“You’re extraordinary, Mirela. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”
Mirela’s lips parted in silent disbelief.
Claire stepped closer, lowering her voice. “When I saw your drawings, I felt as if you’d peeled back the wallsaround me. I didn’t feel like a nun, or a sinner. Just… me.” She hesitated, her chest tight. “You saw me, Mirela…” she whispered. “That is why I can’t go back to them. To that place.”
“To the convent?”
“Convent… home.” Claire shrugged. “It makes no difference. One didn’t hesitate to get rid of me. One wants to keep me locked up.”
Mirela looked at her carefully. “I would not get rid of you,” she said softly. “If I could, I would keep you forever. But not in a tower or as a prisoner. Not in a convent. Not even in Paris.”
Claire’s throat caught. “Would you run away with me, then? To the countryside?”
Mirela blinked in surprise. “I have never seen it,” she admitted. “I wouldn’t know what it’s like.”
Claire’s heart fell for a moment, thinking that Mirela would say no to her idea but then Mirela smiled.
“But I would love to see it… if you were my guide.”
Something in Claire broke and healed all at once.
To live with Mirela, to have their own home somewhere in the countryside filled with their pets, with flowers and warmth and the smell of a lovingly cooked meal, and to be surrounded by the warmth of the sun instead of hiding away in a convent or in the cathedral. Just them…
It sounded impossible, but beautiful atthe same time.
Claire laughed, releasing the bag she was holding and dashing towards Mirela. She cupped her face, pulled her lower and kissed her before she could think better of it. Mirela stiffened for only a moment before her hands found Claire’s waist, pulling her close.
“I will take this as a yes,” she laughed as well, her strong arms circling around Claire. “Then let us go,” Mirela whispered against her mouth. “Together.”
Claire’s breath hitched. She pressed her palms against Mirela’s stomach. Her touch drew a quiet sound from Mirela, a shiver that echoed through her own body.
The kiss deepened, first softly, then hungrily, then breathlessly. Claire’s fingers slid into Mirela’s hair, clutching the back of her neck as desire coiled low in her stomach. It reminded her of their unfinished business, of the need to taste everything that was Mirela. The world around them faded until only the sound of their breathing remained. But then Mirela pulled away suddenly, eyes darting to the window.
“I have to toll the bells.”
Claire blinked, dazed. “Now?”
“It’s the hour.” Mirela stood, looking flustered. “You can stay here, I—“
“Take me with you,” Claire said.
Mirela turned, startled. “You want to watch me toll the bells?”
“Yes. Anything,” Claire said, breathless. “I’ll do anything, as long as it’s with you.”
Mirela scoffed softly, eyes darting away. “I don’t know much about… well, anything.”
Claire smiled, stepping forward until their foreheads touched. “Then we’ll learn together. I’ll teach you, and you’ll teach me. But together, not alone. Not anymore.”
Mirela stared at her, her chest rising and falling fast. “I…” she hesitated, then smiled faintly. “I like that.”
She took Claire’s hand and led her up the final flight of stairs.
When they emerged into the tower, the night air struck them full force. The city stretched far below, the river glinting like dark glass. Pigeons scattered from the ledges as they approached the rope hanging from the largest bell. To think that after all these years, this was Mirela’s tether to the outside world. That her only solace was a man claiming to care for her, while she spent her days alone, looking down as life went on without her.
It wasn’t fair, not for anyone, especially not for someone like Mirela.
Moving past her, Mirela grasped the rope with both hands and pulled. The great bronze mass swung, and the sound that followed was enormous yet pure and resonant.
