Three women arrive at the gates of Heaven, where St. Peter greets them with a simple rule:
“Welcome to Heaven! There’s just one thing — DO NOT step on the ducks!”
As they enter, they realize the place is full of ducks. Ducks waddling, ducks napping, ducks blocking paths — like someone spilled an entire farm across the clouds.
No matter how careful they are, the first woman accidentally steps on one.
St. Peter appears immediately, dragging along the ugliest man she has ever seen.
“Your punishment? Spending eternity chained to this man!”
The second woman becomes extra cautious, tiptoeing around like she’s defusing bombs. But the next day — squish.
St. Peter appears again with another extremely unattractive man.
Now the third woman is absolutely terrified. She walks slower than a sloth on vacation. She sleeps standing up so she doesn’t roll onto a duck. She refuses to blink if she’s near feathers, just in case.
Months go by. Not a single duck is harmed. She’s proud. Confident. Victorious.
St. Peter stands beside a stunningly handsome man. Not just good-looking — this man is sculpted like a marble statue that fell out of Heaven’s gym. The third woman gasps.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Eyes like blue lightning. A smile that could melt glaciers.
Before she can speak, St. Peter takes her hand and chains her to the gorgeous stranger.
“W-wait,” she stammers. “Is this… is this my reward? I didn’t step on any ducks!”
The handsome man sighs deeply — almost tragically.
“I’m sorry,” he says with a defeated shake of his head. “I don’t know what you did… but I stepped on a duck!”
St. Peter grins, gives them both a pitying shrug, and disappears into a cloud of feathers, leaving the two of them alone.
She stands frozen, mind spinning. Months of effort… only to end up chained to a man who looks like he was handcrafted by divine artists — but apparently isn’t too bright.
The handsome man looks around awkwardly. “Uh… sorry again. I’m kind of clumsy. And blind in one eye.”
The woman blinks in surprise. “You’re blind?”
“Well,” he corrects, “not blind-blind. More like… visually spontaneous.”
“That’s not even a real phrase,” she mutters.
“Exactly,” he says proudly. “I made it up.”
A JOURNEY BEGINS — AND IT’S NOT WHAT SHE EXPECTED
One time he tried to pet a duck and accidentally tackled St. Francis.
He rambles about random things like cloud density and celestial cheese inventories.
He sings terribly — terribly — but with so much enthusiasm she can’t even be mad.
Against her will… she starts to like him.
She finds his clumsiness charming. His innocence refreshing. His smile addictive.
Every time he laughs, she feels something tug at her heart. And every time he apologizes for stepping on the duck that cursed them together, she notices he means it. Really means it.
One afternoon, as they walk across a field of shimmering white feathers, she asks quietly:
“What were you doing before you… stepped on the duck?”
He turns to her, eyes soft. “My soulmate.”
“But why Heaven?” she asks. “Why not Earth?”
He smiles. “St. Peter told me she’d be here.”
“He said she’d be smart,” the man continues, “and stubborn, and kind. And that I’d know her the moment I met her.”
He shrugs. “Well, you’re chained to me for eternity. Hard to get closer than that.”
She laughs — really laughs — for the first time since she arrived.
St. Peter smirks. “I see you two have bonded.”
The woman frowns. “Is this… some kind of test?”
“Oh no,” St. Peter says cheerfully. “Just cosmic irony. The universe loves that.”
She crosses her arms. “So you chain us together randomly?”
St. Peter chuckles. “Nothing in Heaven is random.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Then why punish the others with ugly men?”
He shrugs. “Because their punishment was vanity, not ducks.”
“You avoided stepping on ducks,” he explains. “But you’re here for a reason. You were shallow… incredibly shallow.”
St. Peter gestures to the handsome man beside her. “You didn’t even try to get to know him before assuming you deserved him as a reward.”
“And HE,” St. Peter says, nodding at the man, “stepped on a duck on purpose.”
The man grins sheepishly. “I saw you. You were tiptoeing around like a nervous ballerina. I figured… if we were chained, you’d have to talk to me.”
She tries to respond, but her heart is suddenly full — annoyingly, overwhelmingly full.
“You are,” St. Peter says. “But whether you stay together is up to you now.”
The man stands shyly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“So… uh… now that we’re not forced to be together… do you still want to…?” He trails off nervously.
“I think,” she says, “that maybe I stepped on a duck too.”
“No. But I stepped on my pride. And maybe that’s better.”
He grins — that warm, ridiculous, heart-melting grin.
She nods. “Only if you promise not to accidentally fall into a duck pond.”
They walk toward Heaven’s glowing horizon together — not chained, not forced, but choosing each other.
“Nope!” he says quickly. “That one wasn’t me.”
And see St. Peter, smiling mischievously, holding a single duck under his arm.
“Relax,” he says. “Just keeping you humble.”