The convent of saint Paul sat high above the small Italian town of Lavenza,it's white walls catching the afternoon light like bone from the hilltop,one could see the rooftops of the town sloping down to the sea.But up here,there was only stillness.The world outside was a rumour something whispered about during cleaning duty or after evening prayers.
Inside,silence was the first rule. Words were rationed like water,laughter was discouraged unless it was quiet enough for God to hear. Each day began at four, when the first bell echoed through the sleeping halls,summoning the sisters to prayer.
They moved like shadows through the corridors,the rustle of habits and the scent of wax and incense filling the air.
Sister Thywill walked among them, veil drawn low,eyes lowered. Her footsteps were soft,deliberate like someone afraid to disturb her own thoughts.
To the others,she was a model of obedience. Always early to prayer. Always calm,even when the Mother Superior's voice turned sharp.
But beneath her composed expression was a mind that never truly slept. She carried a restlessness she could not name, like a pulse under her skin that no prayer could silence.
No one here knew where she had come from.The sisters whispered that she had been sent from another order after 'tragedy'. Others said she had simply walked through the gates one day and asked to stay.
Whatever her story was. Thywill had learned to keep it buried.Some memories were better left unspoken.
That morning, the convent was unusually loud- voices in the courtyard, tools clanging against stone. workmen had arrived to restore the bell tower, which had cracked after a winter storm.The sisters were uneasy, the last time men had entered the convent grounds it had been the reason she found her way here. After morning prayers, she went to the courtyard to deliver water for the workers. The air was sharp with the scent of lime dust and rain soaked earth. She balanced the tray in her hands, trying not to look toward the scaffolding where the men moved, loud and alive,like creatures from another world.
Then a voice - low,teasing cut through the noise. 'Careful,sister. You look like that tray weighs more than your faith'.
She looked up.
He was leaning against the wall, half shadowed,sleeves rolled to the elbows, a streak of dust across his neck. A hammer hung loosely from his hand. Hus smile was crooked, disarming.
For a moment, she forgot how to speak.
' I'm sorry?' She said softly.
He tilted his head,studying her. ' Didn't mean to startle you. Just never seen anyone look that serious while carrying water.
' I take my duties seriously '
' yeah', he said, voice dropping a note. 'I can tell'.
There was something in his gaze that made her look away. She placed the tray down too quickly, the cups rattling.
The mother Superior's voice called from across the courtyard, sharp as a bell.'Sister Thywill !'
'Yes mother !'she turned, hands folded,her composure returning in a single breath.
When she turned around the man was already walking away,the faintest smile on his lips.
That night,instead of praying her mind returned again and again to the sound of that voice, the curve of that half smile.
She didn't even know his name.
And yet for the first time in years,she dreamed of a world beyond the gates.