Lahat ng Kabanata ng SIN FOR ME, VIRGIN NUN: Kabanata 81 - Kabanata 90

Chapter 82Esme:I make sure the phone is properly hidden beneath my dress before walking away from Christian. I know Sister Theresa is waiting for me; she would've pretended to walk back into her quarters but would be waiting for me on Celeste's floor, and if I walked into Celeste's room, it would be game over.I wasn't as forgiving as Celeste; I knew Sister Theresa had some kind of agenda against the poor girl who was trying to navigate life on her own, and the rest of the church heads turned their heads around, pretending not to know that Sister Theresa was doing more than training future nuns. She was a bully, and sadly everyone was too timid to go head-to-head with her, even me.But Celeste already had enough going for her. When Christian first showed interest in her, I had thought it would be a harmless crush, something Celeste hadn't experienced her whole life. I was glad she had finally met someone who made her heart run, but I had no idea the hell she had been put through all

Chapter 84Celeste:We arrived at Esme’s room. The floor above mine. I took a seat on her bed while she bent down to pick the phone from under her carpet.I recognized it immediately. The black case has a cracked screen protector because I was a bit careless while hastily packing my things this morning.Esme handed me the phone. “Here it is. I think his number is the only one saved on it.”I nodded. “I didn't have anyone else to call; I mostly used it for games.”“See.” Esme smiled. “You can also find use for it here; at least you wouldn’t be bored out of your mind.”“I guess so,” I replied sadly.“You miss him, don’t you?” Esme asked, noticing. She was always watching me.“I don't know how I feel, Esme,” I replied truthfully. It was like I was missing something, but I couldn't put words to it.“That's also not bad; when it becomes clear to you, you'll know,” Esme replied.“I have to go now; Mother Lucia said she'd send someone to come get me,” I told her.“For the spiritual liaison s

Chapter 86Celeste:The morning began with the sound of Sister Theresa’s voice echoing through the corridor.“Celeste! Esme! In the hall, now!” her shrill voice stopped us in our tracks.Esme and I exchanged quick glances before hurrying out of the laundry room, both of us, still holding damp linens. Esme muttered under her breath “It’s not even sunrise, and already we’re being summoned like saints in trouble.”I bit back a smile. “Maybe she’s seen the dust behind the storage shelf again.”“Then I’ll start praying for mercy,” Esme whispered.We stepped into the main hall where Sister Theresa stood with her clipboard, her expression as rigid as the crucifix on the wall. Around her, a small army of other novices carried boxes, chairs, and rolled-up banners.“The planning week for the donation event begins today” Sister Theresa announced, her tone clipped and authoritative. “Mother Lucia wants everything ready by Sunday. That gives us five days to prepare the orphanage hall, confirm the

Chapter 88Christian: The city looked clean from a distance. From my car window, marble towers and mirrored facades caught the sun like polished halos. But up close, the air always betrayed the truth: smog, sweat, ambition. Everything gleamed, yet nothing was pure.Matteo was quiet in the front of the car, his hand tapping on the wheel. He was always quiet before we went into war. It was his tick; he went into a zone that only he could bring himself out of. I didn't care for it; he always ended up doing the job, so whatever helped him sleep at night.Convincing Carlos De Rossi Jr to abandon his father’s legacy wasn’t something reason alone could achieve. The De Rossi name had been synonymous with hostility for decades, and when I killed his father, I hadn't expected the human rights activist to walk in his deadbeat father's footsteps, but Carlos Jr had inherited more than just a cause. He’d inherited vengeance. Influenced by the men whom his father used to head, it was pathetic, real

Chapter 90Christian's POV The glass of the orphanage window was fogged at the edges, but through the pale smear of light I could still see her. Celeste.She was moving through the crowd with a tray in her hands, her steps quick but careful, her face calm in that way that hid everything. Around her the hall was still alive, with music playing softly, children darting between rows of chairs, the relief,chairs,and the faint clatter of plates and cutlery. It was a simple thing, an end-of-day gathering.I stayed in the shadow of the trees outside, watching. My hands were buried in my coat pockets, but the cold wasn’t what kept me still;it was the smallness of her smile when she spoke to the little girl tugging at her sleeve, the quiet grace that had always disarmed me.Matteo waited by the car a few metres away. “We should go,” he said after a while. “It’s already late.”“Just a moment,” I murmured.He sighed but didn’t press. The headlights of the parked cars along the street blinked i