“I’m in love with Cyril,” Emma said in one breath.

She didn’t dare look up at Manu, keeping her gaze on the ancient fan-shaped steps they were climbing.

“Wow.” Manu turned around to glance at her. “Cyril Cyril? The musician?”

She nodded.

“OK.” He returned his attention to the corkscrew staircase. “So what’s your question? You said on the phone you needed to ask me something.”

She remained silent for a long moment, struggling to put years of hope, shame, secrecy and self-loathing into a question. They continued climbing the north tower of the Notre Dame Cathedral, their steps synchronized and their breathing increasingly pained. When they reached the walkway leading to the open gallery, Emma was too hot inside her jacket and out of breath. But she’d come up with a question.

“Does it make me a contemptible person?”

Manu pointed at one of the formidable stone monsters watching over Paris, its pensive mug propped on its elbows. “Meet Stryge the Immortal, chimera extraordinaire. Isn’t he gorgeous?”

She surveyed the winged creature. “He is…in a creepy half-human, half-demon sort of way.”

“Chimeras are the guardian demons of the cathedral. Notre Dame wouldn’t be the same without them.”

Emma pointed to the less intimidating gargoyles perched atop both towers. “I think I prefer those. They’re less intimidating.”

They stayed at the chimera gallery long enough to feast their eyes on the intricate iron lacework of Eiffel’s Grande Dame, the gilded dome of the Hotel des Invalides, the white cupolas of the Sacré Coeur and all the other magnificent vistas the gallery offered. A native Parisian, Emma had enjoyed these views countless times, but the beauty of her city never failed to move her.

“Ready for the second leg?” Manu asked.

She consented with a nod.

“Emma,” he said as they ascended the south tower to the upper viewing platform, “I’m not sure I’m the right person to answer your question.”

“You’re the most spiritually inclined friend I’ve got.” She gave him a pleading look. “Manu, it’s either you or a shrink. I prefer you.”

“How about a priest?”

“I don’t know any. My parents are chemistry teachers that don’t believe in ‘spirits.’”

“Do you?”

She hesitated. “I don’t know… But you do! You’re a Buddhist monk, for goodness’ sake!”

“Please.” He shook his head. “Dabbling in Buddhism doesn’t qualify me as a man of the cloth.”

“If ‘dabbling’ is how you describe your daily practice and your two-year stay in a Sichuan monastery, then fine, you’re no monk.”

Emma tightened her grip on the handrail as she scrambled up the steep staircase. Manu didn’t seem to struggle as much as she did. She smiled to herself. Must be his daily meditation practice. Who knew it could build muscle and stamina?

“To answer your question,” Manu said, turning around, “you’re not a contemptible person.”

She gave him a long stare, unsure how to ask her other question.

He raised his index finger. “That is not to say your feelings for Cyril aren’t morally dubious or that you shouldn’t fight them.”

She swallowed, processing his words.

“Can you go away for a while?” he asked. “Chances are, you’ll forget him in a few weeks.”

“Been there, done that.” She paused to take off her jacket and catch her breath. “When you met me in Sichuan three years ago, what do you think I was doing there?”

“Really?” He gave her a sympathetic look. “When I suggested you go away for a while, I only meant a vacation in Europe. But, wow. You actually spent a whole year in China just to get someone out of your system.”

“And I’m prepared to do it again. I’d go even further than China, to some island at the other end of the world.”

His lips quirked. “I hear Samoa is fun.”

“Samoa it is then.” She sagged against the wall. “Only I don’t think it would help. He’s stuck too deep in my heart.”

Emma let out a long breath, relieved to have finally spoken of her feelings, shared her secret with someone. She should’ve done it earlier. Manu was the perfect agony uncle—compassionate, wise and kind. He wouldn’t judge her. He might not understand her, but he wouldn’t judge.

“Is Cyril in love with your sister?” he asked.

“I’m afraid so.” She smirked. “You wouldn’t be asking this if you’d seen Geraldine. She’s… sparkling.”

“Does he have any feelings for you?”

She shook her head, her expression resigned.

“OK. Does Geraldine love him back?”

“Knowing her, and their history, I doubt it.” Emma sat down on a cold step and hugged her knees. “But I can’t be sure. Gerrie and I never discuss personal matters.”

“Has something significant happened or changed recently?”

She looked up at him. “Why are you asking?”

“In the three years we’ve known each other, you haven’t said a word about this. Why now?”

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I think he’s going to propose to Geraldine.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s a hunch. But my hunches are uncommonly reliable.”

“I can help you let go of it, Emma. You can use the power of your mind to silence regret and sadness. You can train your heart to accept their happiness with equanimity.”

“But they won’t be happy together!” Emma shouted before clapping her hand to her mouth. “They can’t be happy together,” she repeated quietly.

“Why not?” He sat down a few steps below her.

“I can’t explain it… You see, Geraldine already dumped Cyril once, when she met a guy who she thought was even cooler than him.”

He stroked his chin. “Then come clean. Tell him how you feel.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

She furrowed her brow. “It would be awful.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s doomed. He wants her, not me.”

“Still, you should tell him.”

She chewed at her lower lip, hesitating. “If I do, I’d ruin any chance of a normal relationship with my sister and my future brother-in-law.”

“There’s a risk. But your love for him…it won’t go away by itself, not even after they’re married. It’ll stay, turn ugly and corrode your heart.”

“I know.”

“Then don’t let it.”

“How?”

“By telling him. Tell Geraldine, too. Put it out there, and then go Samoa, if you need to.”

“They’ll despise me.”

He shrugged. “I don’t think so, but even if they do, you’ll get over it.”

“If you were in my shoes, would you tell a nearly engaged man you loved him? Would it be Buddhistically kosher?”

He smiled. “The Buddha said, ‘If one acts or speaks with a pure state of mind, then happiness follows like a shadow that remains behind without departing.’”

“Pretty,” Emma gave him a lopsided smile. “But that’s the thing: I’m not sure how pure my state of mind is.”

Manu stood and offered her his hand. “Come on. There can’t be more than fifty steps left till the top.”

She let him pull her up.

When they reached the top, he filled his lungs with air, looked around and then turned to her. “You wanted the Buddhist view on your dilemma, right? Here it is: to love another being isn’t a crime or a sin. It’s not what you feel but what you do with it, how you act on those feelings that can cause suffering… Or set you free.”