The evening hours were elapsing lento as if centuries were elapsing until the imminent sunrise dawned as the moonset looms in the grayish azure sky.

Even a quarter an hour after the mysterious woman as the hallway's darkness shadowed her figure as it abided an unsolved mystery for Timothy, himself, he thought it might be one of the patients' visitors, due to her casual or rather unholy outfit for his hallowed pools as the holy water might be the sole armor against anything unhallowed for his sight.

His bottom berry-coloured curled indisposedly after his recited in murmur evening prayer in his dim lit office as his tall, masculine silhouette perfectly reflected on the pale gilt wall as if a shadow of beast resided the austere, old-fashioned office. His chocolate brown orbs blankly, colder, howsoever, drab pigments tinged the ignited flames in them as they were keep dancing its fire dance were fixed on the wooden framed photo of his favorite nun, posing next to him as he kept storing this prominent paraphernalia of his in one of his bureau's drawers since in the nuthouse was a policy the personal or memorable paraphernalia shouldn't be in anybody's bare hands. He has contemplated the old vintage photo of him, posing next to Jude just after their successful mission in Boston's outskirts, in order to save hive of wretched, lost souls.

The vintage photo spoke volumes as they were worth thousand of words to be described instead just in a sentence. Their radiant, shining smiles flashed upon their porcelain, pale as ghosts complexions and their dark, hazel irises darted directly to the camera with its vibrant nuances illuminated their pair of irises, affecting their general mood.

Furthermore, they resembled a married couple for a long time as their postures were readily apparent, sketched upon their figures. Nevertheless, the church was as restricting as the jail. They were sacred, devotional servants of God and the ecclesiastical duties, in order to conceal each fragment of their dark pasts including heartbreaks, marriage, dating, sex, romance and so forth. On the contrary, if they posed for the same photo without being disguised as a priest and a nun, otherwise it would be much different.

As he judged the photograph, it wasn't older than a half a decade ago, just months after their first encounter and choosing her as his right hand, proudly calling her his own rara avis.

He gripped the wooden framed photograph, scrutinizing it as his other hand's long, adroit fingers tipped lightly her gloriously rejoicing face as he somewhat commenced blaming himself for being as impulsively coarse as he eventually behaved hours ago especially during their heated argument about Arden. What the holy man yearned was Jude's security as he plotted her convey to another institution as she doesn't lose her clerical possessions and title, besides opening a new chapter of her life especially in Pittsburgh.

"I'm so sorry for my anger, rare bird! I just wanted you to be safe as I don't want you to be the next craved victim of Dr.Arden!" Mellowed in firm British accent mumble zinged his berry-coloured lips as if he could picture the apology he owed Judy as she solely believed the version of her removal from the mental hospital is her love interest was ultimately manipulated and bamboozled under the bewitching spell of Arthur's cunning words. "I'm just sorry! I want your safety as I don't want you to be as mutilated as Shelley. You don't deserve her fate!" His mumble bear a semblance of a sermonized prayer, lingering on his tongue. He closed his eyes for awhile, allowing to snuggle the framed photograph as his heart beats' frequency diminished, subsequently, baptizing them in clamminess of its pulsation.

A handful of minutes later, he fled the office by leaving the wooden-framed photo sitting motionlessly on the hardwood desk as he determined himself to pay a visit to the older woman's office, making sure if she's feeling better.

The pitch-black darkness in her former office was overlooked by him as he rapped a few times on the mosaic glass door, emitting sounds by keeping whether her or somebody else's wits about his sudden presence in the middle of the night.

"Jude? Jude? It's Timothy!" Moments before starting to tap on the door, he cleared his throat as he took a deep breath and glimpsing in the both abysmal, vaguely dim lit corridor, in case, if anybody from the staff members doesn't question him at all. He double checked in the hallway's both directions by throwing a quick glance just seconds before thwacking on her office door louder, despite no response, nor no action loomed. "Rare bird? Is everything alright?" Initially, the member of the clergy thought she was grouchy with him, in fact, their heating debate was the core of her crabby, indifferent demeanor tonight without allowing any visitors to pay a visit to her office even if it's for a split second, according to the version he solely believed.

The silence replied him as her absence was oblivious for him until his mammoth, lukewarm hand met the office door's doorknob, subsequently twisting it as he opened askew the door, peeking through the gap even when the darkness shadowed almost everything which motionlessly was on its place.

Neither a feminine, petite figure welcomed him kindheartedly in the austere, empty office as it sunk in the jet back veiling gloaming.

In the meanwhile, the man of the cloth entered inside his rara avis's old, former office by shutting the door behind him, in case, if somebody surprises him and endangers him with his presence whether one of the most dubious patients or Dr.Arden since he feared of him, besides exalting him as an addition to the name of the progress, although his barbarous experiments.

His oxford shoes clicked against the cemented flooring as he walked in each corner of the office, surveying it as he found out her pair of eyeglasses along with her rosary beads were gone.

"Jude?" His honeyed whisper sounded as an echo in the numbing barrens. Further, the British aristocrat was all ears to hear any sound which takes its place whether in the office or otherwise in the en-suite bedroom, linked to the office.

The heart beats' frequency pulsation invigorated in his constricting chest as if a ghost was haunting him as his body muscles weakened at the desolation along with the darkness. The darkness wasn't problematic for him at all. Nonetheless, the desolation spoke volumes as if it betokening animus cowed the murmurs that were dying as they once danced on his tongue, ready to spit them out.

At last but not least, the heavy pulsation of his hammering flimsy heart pulsated into his ears as if its heart beats were solely audible for him unlike the further sounds such as footsteps, reluctant clinks and clicks, desperate bewails of the jailed patients in their wards.

His impending destination was literally the en-suite bedroom after inspecting the office within a few minutes without resulting any tracks of her peculiar absence.

Throughout he clutch tightly his colossal, veiny hand into a balled fist, consequently patting lightly, wondering if she was asleep in the wee hours of midnight or mulling everything which happened earlier today without kipping.

"Jude? Jude?" He repeated the raps on the en-suite bedroom's door as she didn't reply. Perhaps the silence answered him again. "If you aren't sleeping, therefore may I speak to you in person, if you don't mind?"

He awaited a quarter a minute for her response, inhaling inwardly the stiff office air, flaring his sensitive nostrils as his eyes lowered momentarily to the doorknob, thereafter opening it within milliseconds until the door creaked, witnessing her ultimate disappearance from the facility.

"Rare bird?" An inner voice echoed in his mind after his weary, brittle chocolate brown pools which frequently blinked noted his right hand's evanescence.

Consequently he stepped in the room as he was beyond flabbergasted it wasn't locked along with her office since she's no longer working in the madhouse, besides the heart beats were severer and building its additional ounce, encumbering his body. He inspected the bedroom as he checked every drawer of the dresser where she once stored up her garments such as the sheer angelic cotton white nightgown which was accorded to every nun, her sinful, diabolic succumbing bloody red satin negligee with the unholy, ravishing scent of flowers. Everything was gone.

Little did he know where the former administrator of the mental institution was as the location was unidentified for him yet as a paradoxal mystery.

"Monsignor," It was the possessed juvenile nun who snapped him out of his train of thoughts as she propped on the en-suite bedroom door's askew opened door, studying each manner and body language of the vulnerable priest, chewing her bottom, plumpish lip. Suddenly Timothy turned timidly to the fragile nun, whose Satan's essence smeared every cell and muscle of hers.

"She's gone. I don't have any clue where she might be." He sighed a sigh of relief as his heart raced after noticing Judy's favorite protégé. In the meantime, the young blonde's tongue clicked, tipping the roof of her mouth.

"Oh, Monsignor! Don't worry about Sister Jude! Your favorite old whore is gone." Meanwhile, Mary Eunice clumsily, playfully played with the buttons of her habit, strolling up to Timothy as she opted to horrify him with each took step as their proximity was closing its gap, despite Timothy attempted to flee the en-suite bedroom of his love interest, pursing self-effacingly his berry-coloured, damp lips.

At the moment, the holy man can note his rare bird's protégé bizarre demeanor as a couple of questions deluged his mind.

For example, what's the core of her bizarre demeanor especially lately and now? Is she possessed by the devil and its vile essence dwelling inside her? If yes, is it possible the devil leaving Jed's body by finding a new home especially in the orphan's body as it was one of the essential reasons why she fainted after the fiendish teenager's decease and Timothy and Oliver's attempts to save his life?

"Frank? Carl?" The British aristocrat yelled, trying to grab either of the orderlies or security guards' attention so that to drag the blonde off Judy's old office by being strapped on a bed, sedated and perform an exorcism on her on the morning after along with Father Malachi and Dr.Clarkson.

"Nobody can't help you, Father! Even the old whore can't rescue you from the vicious cycle."

"Shut your filthy mouth, Sister!" He sternly, dryly wailed at her, opting to survive her vicious claws which verged to touch any inch of him as he was about to flee the office, evading Mary Eunice's scoffing taunting. Meantime, wicked, devilish snicker rang in his ears, resulting the possessed sister of the church's hyperbolical seriousness as she escorted Timothy as she was almost a feet away from him as he didn't dare to turn to her.

"Frank? Carl?"

"Oh, Father! Don't you ever think of any orderlies or security guards to strap me on the fucking bed and being exorcised! Is that what you thought of?"

All of a sudden, horde of security guards including the former Irish police officer, Frank, sped up after hearing the exceeding bewail of Timothy, colliding into the dull walls of the asylum as radioactive waves.

"What's matter, Monsignor?" Frank asked begrudgingly, panting as they approached promptly the Monsignor, while the possessed juvenile holy woman struggled to approach her recent target.

"Mary Eunice is possessed and her demeanor is urgently odd! You should just strap her on a bed by sedating her and I'll call Father Malachi along with Dr. Clarkson to exorcise the demon of her body tomorrow the morning."

"Accepted, Monsignor!" Frank nodded his head, affirming his words as he and his colleagues trapped the young nun by dragging her in the old asylum's lobby in the women's wing as emotional protests, wriggles into their callous and tight grips attempted to grab somebody's attention, in order to rescue her as a smug, slight smile swayed across the Monsignor's lips.

"Please, Monsignor! Anybody help me! They're dragging me off with what I haven't finished." Terrified bemoan rejoined as she felt outnumbered by the swarm of security guards, who were escorting her to a free cell by imprisoning her.

The former policeman with the other security guards ignored the impotent, squealing woman of the cloth.

--- *** ---

A handful of hours have elapsed as a summer breeze as Jude has already arrived in the motel by parking her cab on the free parking lot and paying for the first night, besides spending the entire night in her reserved motel room in thoughts of her love interest. Obsession over the man of the cloth fogged her fatigued mind as it denied assimilating diversity of information with exception the impure thoughts and fantasies, reworking them as if she was picturing them being as realistic as she yearned more than anything.

In the meantime, the blonde just laid on the double bed under the cotton, warm blanket as she wore nothing than her ravishing red satin negligee as an armor against the cold climate which hardened her nipples and goosebumps encrusting the soft, mossy flesh of her scarcely trembling body.

The lion mane of silken old Hollywood honey curls were ruffled wildly on the cotton pillow as a disheveled bush. Her eyelids were tightly clutched, inhaling inwardly as a newborn the stiff air which acclimated the room, which was counted as a living room and bedroom in the same time.

"W-Why ya did this to me, Timothy? And look where I'm now." Grunt escaped her lips as she was raving in her reverie of the holy man, who was the crucial character in it all over again as he was the character, who was teasing her and granted her sexual pleasure, besides romance. "Being in a motel because of this piece of shit. Is that yar promise for not separating yarself from me? Huh?"

--- *** ---

The wee hours of the morning loomed as a dew, coating the grasslands in the countryside's outskirts.

The patients were in the common room after their release from their wards by having breakfast, subsequently starting to work their first shift or doing nothing else than their casual activities in the common room unlike the devious quest of Timothy, Father Malachi and Dr. Clarkson, who're about to exorcise the Satan of the young nun's body.

Mary Eunice spent the entire night and wee hours of the morning being strapped on the tattered, old bed in one of the wards in women's wing as some of the diligent security guards were outside, keeping their wits about the young woman's possession and murderously eccentric behavior, hearing her humdrum, demonic cries per a handful of minutes as if they're interweaving with certain patients' sorrowful whines.

"Somebody please help me!" The desperate, deep cries of the orphan were sufficiently audible for the both ecclesiastical members of the clergy as they paced in the women's wing along with Dr. Clarkson who was newly hired doctor after Dr. Thredson.

"Monsignor, are you completely sure the young nun is possessed?" The elder member of the church posed the question beyond gravely as his temple crinkled along with his arched sparse eyebrow.

"More than anything, Father! Since the exorcism of the poor boy Jed Potter, therefore I came to the conclusion the evil has dwelled into this fragile nun's body as she fainted after we announced the news of his decease." The younger man heaved a sigh, flaring his lungs as they stood beside the iron, rusty cell's door, just seconds before unlocking it with Timothy's pair of keys he had for the cells since he's the head of Briarcliff.

"It makes sense your words, Father!" Dr. Clarkson replied dryly as his lip curled as soon as they unlocked the ward, consequently stepping inside as Timothy and William Clarkson were the first temporal inhabitants of the cell with Father Malachi in front of them as team players, determined to save the pure soul and Mary Eunice's identity before it was too late.

Eventually William Clarkson was mildly older than Timothy approximately his late 30s with classy raven black, neatly combed hair, capping his head, followed by his piercing grayish-ocean pools, fair skin to ne, his readily appealing height 6'1 and his lean body built, framing him generally. At last but not least, the pungent scent of honey perfume emanated from his suit's formal cardigan and his dark, excellently tied tie.

The wall battered window bathed the room in dim day light as it significantly affected the possessed girl's vision, causing her bewails to splotching her tongue as they rocked up from her lips.

"Come on, little piggies! Let's have some fun." The possessed blonde jeered at the horde of adults, trying to belittle them especially her former mentor's favorite priest as Timothy and Father Malachi were on the left side of Mary Eunice's bed, whereas William was on the right side, supervising her as they were overlooking her daredevil game.

"Don't listen to her!" Timothy sternly clarified once again, in order to shield his both trustworthy partners by purging the demon out of her frail skeleton with prayers and giving CRPs. The men were utterly focused on their recent task.

"Monsignor, have you ever wondered what the old hag whore has always fantasized of you or rather, the question is what you haven't heard from her?" The juvenile, smitten nun said in teasing manner as her profound, diabolic voice accentuated on every spelled word hers, gawking raffishly Timothy, Father Malachi and William, who were combating the Satan.

Hard lump which just formed in his dry throat was swallowed momentarily after he figured out she knew everything even the deepest, grimmest secrets of his favorite nun, who was no longer in the mental hospital.

It wasn't the first time when the vile essence attempted to test his thin patience, declaiming every phrase from his daredevil, fiendish game.

Meanwhile, Timothy's face tinged in sheer sanguine hues as the muggy heat crawled underneath the roundness of the cheeks. An anterior tooth nibbled on the silken skin of his berry-coloured lip at the thought of his rara avis being mentioned especially by the devil, who knew everything even if it's obliterated away on the surface. Cocky, smug grin danced across her naturally rosy-coloured, perfectly shaped lips.

"Oh God! Timothy, don't stop it!" She commenced with her derision, imitating Jude's moaning voice, biting her bottom lip as she double played the former licentious nightclub singer's protagonist in her sexual dreams, cram-full with criminal, blow minding desires and lust over the British aristocrat. "I'm coming, Timothy! Oh!" The soft, nevertheless, ideal imitation of the sultry moans which sailed from the top of her lungs caused immense embarrassment, painting blanching tinges across his complexion as moist thick layer veiled his forehead.

What the holy man hankered for was hearing the sensual, mellow as feather moans escaping his rare bird's lips after flaring as fierce blaze her lungs, whereas they were clung to one another as their bodies were pressed to one another. Feminine, soft as velvet skin contacting another skin. Masculine, callous, mossy as peach.

The exorcism advanced as Mary Eunice was not only sedated by the doctor, further, the combat resumed as the winners weren't apparent yet. Demonic chuckles and babbles floated in the cell as they were numbing the hallowed prayers until the bed along with the blonde's body writhed as the final seconds of her life were elapsing quicker than the gushing down rain drops.

They gave their best to rescue her and her taintless, pure soul until she shrieked in soreful pain for last time as her final word on her deathbed just set free together with the final, lethal breath, blew through the nostrils as she rose up, seconds before collapsing forcefully her head back on the pillow, subsequently without moving a single muscle of her youthful corpse.

"She's dead!" It was William who gave a couple of CRPs to the dead lady as the heart attack was the reason of her death just like in Jed's case.

Afterwards the 3 men looked up at each other, meeting each other's glassy, fueled with fresh sorrow gawks as the youngest man's brittle eyelids were pooled with bitter swamp, tears betraying to spring up into his peaceful chocolate brown eyes, rolling down on his cheeks.

When the exorcism ended as Mary Eunice's salvation was a failed quest, consequently Timothy negotiated with the former Nazi war criminal about his favorite precious nun's death as he couldn't accept it with an ease as he was sure the possession has corrupted not only every cell of her immobile corpse and mind, moreover she has no relatives to grief over her recent death as the crimination was the sole alternative to get rid off her corpse and protect the nuthouse from the evil and its vices.

Despite the tough decision, incapable of performing cremation of the deceased orphan's soul case, the elder doctor of science was more than docilely determined to do whatever his boss was telling him.

First and foremost, Timothy began wondering how his rara avis is going to accept his former protégé's latter death, occurring shortly after whether her emigration in Pittsburgh or her stay in Boston as he hasn't known to these days her current residence.

--- *** ---

--- A Week Later ---

On Friday, the middle-aged woman didn't miss her flight for Pittsburgh as she embraced with open arms the offered position in the wayward home for girls as a dorm, food and everything else she needed was ensured for her.

As she spent a couple of days working in the home for wayward girls, hence, she started liking working in the facility by spending some of her leisure time with girls, whether young or about to turn 18, by advising them or cheering them up, deeming them as her own daughter figures even if Mary Eunice was her sole and one of a kind daughter figure. Moreover, the woman of the cloth was heard galore of grim stories, being told from the girls from the home for wayward girls. Wise advices traveled to their ears as they imprinted permanently into their minds as benevolent, cordial embraces scooped them to comfort them, besides the cheek and forehead tender, delicate kisses and the encouraging words to chin up without giving up and carry on with their lives. Bright smiles flourishing on their lips as rosebuds of the flowers which have just blossomed in the wee days of the spring.

Howsoever, she has doubted the love of her life will come for her by checking her how she was exactly working as a nun again especially in a much different institution than a mental hospital for criminally insane. At least, each silent prayer of his which was sent directly as a message to her hinted the pensive expressions of gratitude, molting her flimsy heart.

Every morning after getting from the bed and getting ready for the day, every afternoon after lunch and finishing some remarkable or petty tasks, every night before crawling in the bed, the middle-aged lady prayed her heart out for her protégée and her love interest, hoping they didn't have any trials, blocking their ways to accomplish their ultimate goals.

It has been a tough week later, advancing in the time line without beholding the British aristocrat. Without having the opportunity to contemplate or glance at his handsome, charming, soft as cinnamon roll, airbrushed in innocence face. Without having the opportunity to spot his sheepish, humble, gleeful smile which cradled his lips every time they saw or encountered one another. Without anticipating him with heart races as the heart beats severely, briskly hammered in her ribs. Without greeting warmheartedly and share brief even slightly on personal level conversations. Without having the chance of hearing his velvet, soft, British accent, ringing angelic anthems into her sensitive, petite ears as if she was hearkening the twittering birds' songs in the wee hours of the morning along with the pale, mist light, illuminating the exposed flesh.

As the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer was seating on an old, wooden chair in the expansive dining room where the girls were having lunch as usually, a few girls preferred to stay with the member of the church, whereas the rest of them were playing outside, relishing the late autumn days which were dying very soon as innuendos of the winter were readily obvious in the climate change, in fact, the days were colder and windier. The crispy, multicoloured leaves which once overcrowded, shaping a grandiose tree crown weren't housed on the branches as they have tumbled down, carpeting the ground.

Perhaps Angelica and Yoanna were the only children who preferred to accompany the sister of the church, struggling to eat the poor-quality dish which was part of their daily menu.

"Aren't ya peckish anymore, Angie and Yoanna?" She asked them as the maternal instincts resurrected once one child joins her company at least. A sympathetic, soothing smile curled up in the corner of her dry, naturally rosy-coloured lips, gluing her honey brown irises on them.

"No, Nanny! We want to be with you and play with you!" The eight-year-old, Angelica, replied capriciously, turning to the middle-aged woman as her thin lips pouted suddenly, sighing.

"I know, sweethearts! But Nanny has sometimes important tasks, involving clerical duties which aren't for little kids or not pious people at all." Hoarse, joyous giggle zinged her lips as she fondled gently the both girls' heads. "However, I hope you aren't as grumpy as you seem at first sight."

Angelica was actually a young girl, approaching her pre-teen stage as she was abandoned by her parents, due to their lack of enthusiasm to look after a girl since they have always desired to have a boy in their family. The young girl possessed chestnut pigtails, framing ideally her angelic, childish face, followed by pale as snow skin color, strawberry brown irises.

Yoanna was mildly older than Angelica as she was 2 years her senior with olive-tanned skin tone, slender body structure, azure blue pools, aureate, shoulder length halo ringlet of ebony black straight strands, framing her sheer, angelic image. At last but not least, the reason why she's residing the home for wayward girls is her mother committed suicide as shortly before that a maniacal depression befell her as soon as she became a widow, losing her husband in a brutal car accident.

"Aren't you free, Nanny?" The children loved her as well as they adored to address her Nanny since day one as she quickly became doted on them and vice versa.

"At the moment, yes! Just finish yar dishes or go play outside with the other kiddos as," When her hazel eyes spotted a familiar figure for her vision especially a young man, dressed up in clerical attires, known as the Monsignor and the future New York Cardinal, it caught her off guard, taking a sharp breath as she hemmed to keep on with her utterance, teasing her throat. "I'm busy for awhile, if I need to be excused."

"But you promised to be with us." The black-haired infant whined, biting her lip, attempting to catch the middle-aged lady off guard, distracting her from the recent object of her desires, transfixing her gaze on the younger man. "Nanny?"

"Huh? I-I'm so sorry, darlings!" She turned to them abruptly, pecking affectionate, feather kisses on the tops of their heads just before stroking them, emboldening them to go play outside or do another activities as another confrontation weebed her in its venomous spider webs. "Yar Nanny is so distracted at times so that some tasks occupied her hectic schedule. Go jump on the rope outside or play cards or with dolls! I'll be right back within a couple of minutes, okay?" They bobbed docilely their heads, leaving their unfinished meals on the wide dining table just before getting from their seats. "Good girls! I promise ya, everything is fine and everything will be fine once I find some more spare time for ya again." When they got from the chairs, sprinting up to the dining room's door, in the interval, the devotional member of the church set a foot in the room as the blonde fixed her gape on him as her mouth was a tad agape, contracting her jawline.

"J-Jude?"

"For heaven sake, what are ya doing here, Timothy? I haven't been expecting ya so far."

"It's alright, Jude!" He approached his favorite nun as his hands were reluctantly into his dark slacks' pockets, licking his lips in distressed manner. "Well, I wanted to pay a visit to you since we haven't been seeing each other for a week."

"That's right! Is that what ya wanted?"

"Urm, I'm not completely sure if it's better to discuss it right away, howsoever, I'm thinking of inviting you on a private cafeteria to discuss some things which we haven't shared with each other." He stammered, clearing his throat coyly. "In order to spill the tea about ourselves!"

In this moment, the older woman refrained from bickering since it has been a week since she has seen the holy man and most of all, she didn't want to appall him, hence, beget from not seeing one another anymore.

"Okay! At what time and when it's going to take its place?"

"Don't worry about all this! It's going to be tomorrow in 6 o'clock as you should find an excuse to the nuns!"

"Of course, I'll!" Wry, genuinely jubilant chuckle set free as the other adult joined her, relishing the first moments of their reunion in Pittsburgh, although his transfixed chocolate brown orbs, filled with warmness, genuine love and bliss glinted, on her as their proximity was as short as barely an inch. Timothy tried to not admire as much as he could the ethereal beauty of his right hand as he pursed bashfully his lips. "What's that look on yar face, Timothy?"

"N-Nothing!" It was forbidden for him to make a revelation about her ethereal grace especially a nun as he was no longer part of the church's duties by resigning the same week after the juvenile nun passed away and he deliberately disguised himself as a priest, in case, if one of the nuns stops him anywhere in the institution's area. He has always wondered what she concealed underneath her conservative, rigid, jet black habit along with the veiling wimple, questing him a devious quest by solving the impossible, paradoxal puzzle about his favorite sister. Meantime, he ducked lightly, reluctantly his head without averting his idiotic stare from her as if he just beheld the most beautiful woman in front of him. Her indisputable natural beauty, inescapably vibrant hazelish-brown orbs, her radiant, vague smile and the stray aureate strands which framed her well-defined, stunning complexion were the reasons why he was finding her for the most beautiful woman in this world since the first moment he has first laid eyes on her and vice versa. "I just wanted to confess to you something!"

"Go ahead, Timothy!"

"I have never told you this but, in my opinion, you're the most beautiful woman in this world whom I have ever laid eyes on." The compliment which he recently spitted out remorselessly without thinking about breaking her vows was the sweetest, the most heartwarming thing she could have ever heard especially coming from her love interest, whose abstinence was the core of not breaking their solemnly took vows.

"W-What? What are you saying?" She chewed her bottom, plump lip girlishly, demurely as a schoolgirl, who has received her first ever compliment from her crush as the muggy heat beneath her chubby, well-defined cheeks reheated again, lowering her eyes as they met shyly the carpeted flooring.

"I truly mean it." In the meantime, her heart raced as a couple of fingers of his mammoth, veiny hand grabbed her chin, throughout tilting her head to meet her piercing stare, casted on him as a ferocious eagle. "Jude, look at me! I might not know what do you exactly wear underneath these rigid, wool attires of the church, but it doesn't confutes the fact you're the most gorgeous woman I've ever laid eyes on. Trust me!" She swallowed hard at his exclaimation which progressed promptly as railing train.

"Why thank you, Timothy! That's so kind of you, besides I really appreciate your goodwill!" She was beyond flattered in awe, due to the heartmelting compliment which she just earned from the person, she has the least expected to spit it out directly especially a priest, believing the circumstance he's serving the cloth yet. 

"That's when the destiny brings us back together!"