The first week of the school had gone remarkably well. The classrooms were bustling with the sounds of eager children, the walls adorned with drawings and lesson plans. Clara, a young nun, had taken her place as a teacher, guiding the children with a gentle hand and a kind smile. But something had been bothering her. She felt uneasy and tired more often than usual, her energy dwindling by the end of the day.
---
One day, during lunch break, Clara felt a sudden wave of nausea. She clutched her stomach and rushed to the washroom, barely making it to a stall before she vomited. Gasping for air, she leaned against the wall, her heart pounding.
"What's happening to me?" she whispered to herself, wiping her mouth with trembling hands.
A knock on the door startled her. "Sister Clara, are you alright?" one of the students asked from outside.
Clara took a moment to compose herself. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you, dear. Go back to class."
The child hesitated but eventually left. Clara splashed cold water on her face, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her pale complexion and dark circles beneath her eyes told a story she couldn't ignore.
---
After the school day ended, Clara decided to visit the nearest hospital. She told no one about her symptoms, not even Sister Agnes, who often looked after her.
At the hospital, she sat nervously in the waiting room, her hands clasped tightly together. When her name was called, she followed the nurse into a consultation room.
The doctor, a kind-looking woman in her forties, entered and smiled. "Good evening, Sister Clara. What seems to be the problem?"
"I've been feeling unwell," Clara said hesitantly. "Nausea, fatigue, and I… I vomited earlier today."
The doctor nodded, jotting down notes. "I see. Let's run some tests to find out what's going on. Don't worry; we'll figure this out."
---
An hour later, the doctor returned with the results. Clara could see something in her expression—a mixture of hesitation and concern.
"Sister Clara, I have the results of your tests," the doctor began, sitting down across from her. "You're pregnant. Approximately two months along."
Clara froze, her mind racing. "What? That… that can't be possible," she stammered.
The doctor's voice softened. "I understand this might be a shock, but the tests are conclusive. Is there someone you can talk to about this? A friend, perhaps?"
Clara shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "No. This… this can't be happening. I've taken vows. I can't…" Her voice broke as she covered her face with her hands.
---
The doctor reached out, her voice gentle but firm. "Sister Clara, I know this is difficult, but you need to take care of yourself—for your health and the baby's. Have you considered what you want to do moving forward?"
Clara looked up, her eyes filled with fear and confusion. "I… I don't know. I need time to think."
The doctor nodded. "Take the time you need. But please, don't keep this to yourself. It's important to have support during this time."
Clara nodded numbly, barely registering the doctor's words.
---
Leaving the hospital, Clara walked aimlessly through the streets, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. She thought back to the night two months ago in the church kitchen when Richard had assaulted her. She had tried to bury the memory, to convince herself it hadn't happened. But now, the truth was undeniable.
Tears streamed down her face as she whispered to herself, "What am I going to do?"
---
When Clara returned to the nuns' hostel, she avoided everyone and went straight to her room. She locked the door and sank to the floor, clutching her stomach. The reality of her situation hit her like a tidal wave. She felt a deep sense of shame, anger, and fear.
The next morning, Sister Agnes noticed Clara's absence from breakfast and knocked on her door. "Clara? Are you in there?"
Clara hesitated before answering. "Yes, Sister Agnes. I'm not feeling well."
"Do you need anything? Should I call the doctor?" Agnes asked, her concern evident.
"No, I just need some rest," Clara replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
Agnes paused, sensing something was wrong. "Alright. But if you need to talk, I'm here."
---
Over the next few days, Clara kept to herself, her usual warmth replaced by a distant, haunted look. Maria noticed the change and approached Sister Agnes.
"Have you noticed how quiet Clara has been lately?" Maria asked.
"Yes," Agnes replied, frowning. "She's not herself. I've tried to speak with her, but she insists she's fine."
Maria nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe she just needs some space. We all deal with things in our own way."
---
As the days passed, Clara struggled to decide what to do. The weight of her secret was unbearable, but the thought of revealing it filled her with dread. She prayed for guidance, hoping for a sign to show her the way.