The quiet had returned to the church, a blessed hush after days of noisy bikers. It was a relief, truly. But even the peaceful silence couldn't quell the turmoil churning inside me. The image of the head nun, our spiritual leader, defiling our sacred space, was a constant, gnawing presence. How long had this been going on?I wanted to confront her, to demand answers, but every time I tried, the words would lodge in my throat. My mouth simply wouldn’t open. Around her, I felt utterly lost, awkwardly fumbling for composure, and I knew it showed. After a week of my strange behavior, Sister Ophelia, with her kind, perceptive eyes, took me for a walk one evening. “Stella, you’ve been so… off around the head nun,” she began, her lovely face creasing with worry. “Did she do something to you?”My heart rocketed into my throat. The realization hit me like a physical blow: my discomfort was radiating, obvious to everyone, even the head nun herself. As Sister Ophelia waited patiently for my ans
Last Updated : 2025-07-03 Read more