I smiled to myself as I hummed and rocked my children to sleep. Almost a year old now, my son, little Piers drifted off to sleep almost immediately. Ria, my daughter, was the stubborn one, who went to sleep unwillingly. A real fighter, I thought as I tucked the cotton sheet around her .
Like her father, said a small voice inside me.
I sighed and stood up, wearily. Even though we were thousands of miles apart, he remained in my heart all the time. Every second moment, I thought about him…
The life I led in the monastery was safe and tranquil. Yet, in some hidden part of my heart, I had hoped that he would come looking for me. But as the days had become months and now it was almost a year, I had realised that I had, after all, only been his plaything of the moment. That the love, the hope I had carried in my heart was in vain...
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In the stillness of the evening, while the nuns were at prayer, chanting, I sat quietly on the steps outside the monastery temple. It was when I was alone that I thought of him, every evening, wondering what he was doing, who was in his arms…and the pain still felt raw.
I worked as an administrative assistant to the head priestess, helping with the correspondence, It was a simple life, without being in any related to the world of the wealthy in faraway USA. I was secure in the serene hills, my children were looked after…