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Chapter 37 - Chapter Thirty-Seven: Tamara’s Confession — I Was Jealous of You

Angela was folding her laundry — gospel music humming low from her speaker — when Tamara burst in.

> "Can we talk?" she asked, already looking nervous.

Angela looked up. "Sure. What's wrong?"

Tamara sat on the bed. Fidgeted. Breathed. Then dropped it.

> "I've been jealous of you."

Angela blinked.

"That's… a joke, right?"

Tamara shook her head, eyes glassy.

> "I need to say it before it eats me alive."

---

> "I was jealous of how boys looked at you — even Peter.

I was jealous that your heartbreak still made you shine.

I was jealous of your walk with God.

Even when you were messed up, people still listened to your prayers.

I hated that my 'purity' didn't get me noticed.

And your chaos made you magnetic."

Angela dropped the shirt in her hand.

Silence.

Tamara went on.

> "When you came back and everyone started clapping again — I smiled.

But part of me was screaming: What about me? What about my obedience? Why does God still pour oil on her?"

Angela swallowed.

Tamara looked up, tear rolling.

> "I know it's wrong.

I know you deserve the love, the glow, the grace.

But I just wanted to say it out loud…

before it turned me into a Judas."

---

Angela sat beside her.

Didn't speak.

Didn't preach.

Just held her hand.

Then she whispered:

> "You're not the only one who wondered why grace still found me.

I questioned it too.

But Tam… you've always been oil. You've always been holy ground.

Just because the crowd didn't clap doesn't mean heaven wasn't singing."

Tamara cried harder.

Angela continued.

> "And if you think I didn't see how you held me through every fall, every mistake, every confession…

Then you've misunderstood what loyalty looks like.

Tamara, you didn't walk behind me.

You walked beside me — even when my shadow was ugly."

---

They hugged.

A long, quiet hug.

Not all healing needs tongues.

Some just need truth.

---

Later that night, Tamara posted:

> "Sometimes the people you admire… are admiring your stillness.

Sometimes the ones you're jealous of… are grateful for your light.

Jealousy is loud.

But grace?

Is a whisper that still chooses both."

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