•Penelope• I ignored the tingling between my thighs all evening. It didn’t help that during mass, Father Marshall, bless his soul—suddenly looked like Dr. Miguel Ramirez from the side. Same silver hair, same calm, unreadable expression. I blinked hard, looked back down at my prayer book, and didn’t look up again. After service, I moved quickly through the hallway, pretending not to feel flustered, pretending not to notice how warm my palms were. Sister Miriam called after me, something about setting up for the morning medicines, but I was already halfway down the east corridor. I needed air. I slipped outside into the small garden behind the chapel, where most of the sisters wouldn’t bother looking for me. The roses were in full bloom, wild and a little overgrown. They reminded me of how I felt—pulled in every direction, tangled and barely held together by faith and willpower. “Escaping already?” The voice behind me stopped my breath cold. I turned slowly. Dr.
Last Updated : 2026-05-21 Read more