--- 25th of November, 1963 ---

Today was Jude's birthday as she hasn't reckoned them as prominent days with exception of just mere days. Days like the other days of the year unlike Christmas, Easter and Thanksgiving. Nonetheless there was sole issue which with the advancing time and part of her evolution became her second nature. Notwithstanding the rueful circumstances of being a childless, unwed and without a family ordinary woman, devoted to the church and taking solemnly the vows as a golden, plate armor. Golden plate armor against her former lifestyle, known as criminally licentious for the one-night stands with the stranger men, the inebriating alcohol, the distressing loneliness. Thanks to the second chance that God gave her, the devotional woman of the cloth, herself, took his hand and opened a new chapter in her life, where she's Judy Martin, disguised as a nun with the conservative, dark rigid habit and dark wool wimple as hallowed attires, concealing the darkness of her past. Or rather, well-known as Sister Jude.

In the wee hours of midnight after reciting in a murmur the evening prayer, the blonde released her lion mane of crispy glossy gilt tresses, piled up on her dark conservative shapeless habit, hugging her slender, doubtlessly ageless body as she casted the wimple on the dresser.

It has been a couple of hours since the lunatics have been gathered in their cells for extra good night sleep, as a result of shutting down up to the morning after the common room.

The middle-aged woman was about to crawl in her compact bed by commencing to unbutton a handful of buttons of her habit until a couple of sufficiently audible, potent raps on the door caught her off guard, snapping her out of her train of thoughts. Pensiveness petered off as she buttoned back the buttons.

"Jude, may I enter?" It was the Monsignor standing beside the mosaic glass office door, taking a deep breath coyly, his mammoth, milky as vanilla hands were into his pockets.

The first minutes in the midnight episode of the day loomed as it was 25th of November's eve, being embraced by the translucent moonlight dispersing its pale light through the former licentious jazz nightclub singer's battered, miniature wall window, bathing her en-suite bedroom in dim moonlight as it mingled with the turned on lights.

Little did the holy woman what her crush was doing during midnight time especially being widely awake.

"Hold on a second, Timothy!" The middle-aged lady cautioned, walking away from the en-suite bedroom by turning the lights off as it sunk in partly ebon darkness, throughout stepping back in her austere, dim lit up office as her light, feminine footsteps approached the locked door, unlocking it until she opened it and the blonde was eventually embraced by her love interest's flabbergasting presence. "Oh! For heaven sake," The blonde cried out, clawing with her petite, creamy hand her chest as her flimsy heart verged to spring up from her constricted chest like a toy-out-of-the-box, inhaling then exhaling sharply, frantically as a beaming, benevolent smile honed up in the corner of Timothy's berry-coloured, dry lips. "What are ya doing in midnight, Timothy? Yar supposed to be already," As Jude verged to resume her utterance, he shushed to her, cutting her off curtly.

"I came here for an informal reason, Jude!" In the meanwhile, she stepped aside, allowing him to step in her dim lit office, thereafter the door was shut by the Bostonian, herself, consequently ushering him to take a seat as she seated on the top of her cherry wood desk. She returned the smile with a radiant, serene, swaying across her naturally rosy-coloured, perfectly shaped lips.

"Oh! What kind of an informal reason brings ya here, Timothy?" The blonde darted her caramel brown pools, fueled with delirious weariness, in fact, she was sleepy. On other hand, the warmest molting caramel glinted its genuine pigments. In the interval, the British compatriot's warm chocolate brown eyes were transfixed on his favorite nun, opting to not admire her ethereally undeniable beauty along with her halo ringlet of fleecy old Hollywood aureate curls, framing ideally her angelic, still gorgeous complexion for a middle-aged lady. She looked nothing compared to the majority of the middle-aged ladies, who have already gained weight, gave a birth once at least, their parchment complexions are mapped with wrinkles, stretch marks naturally inked on their fleshes. Even the alluring hair scent taunted his sensitive nostrils, testing their sensitivity and sinful versatility.

"Well, since it's your birthday, I've a surprise for you since you know," The younger man stuttered, struggling to spell the last words correctly as his berry-coloured lips curled in choir. "You've always taken care of me and nurtured me. We've been friends for years and the friends deserve presents as a sign of the promises. Reward for the loyalty and the strong bond that kept us inseparable." All of a sudden, he took one of her quivering elvish, pale as snow hand into his larger, amusingly balmy warm hand, whereas his other hand balled tiny, silver, shimmering due to its grizzly hues ring with rolled short note. It wasn't extravagant, nor exorbitant. The thumb kneaded the back of her hand, alleviating her nerves which to be tantamount to freezing, being nonplussed and incapable of thinking rationally and clearly as usually.

The truth was Timothy and Jude have been not only friends for a couple of years, further, they discreetly concealed the spellbinding feelings they've harbor shortly after meeting one another and realizing the brilliant potential of being a potent, unarguably entangled bond. They've always yearned for fleeing the church and be family people, resulting a marriage and having their own children with the concept either their daughter possessing her mother's beaming, charming smile or their son having inheriting his mother's piercing, brutally honest hazelish-brown eyes.

"Is that for," Dew of moistness pooled her incessantly blinking eyelids as the ebon, long eyelashes flapped its wings, baptized in dew, crystal tears sprung up in her irises, verging to gush down on her plump, well-defined cheeks. As soon as the aspiring Monsignor released his balled hand, he slipped the finger on her finger delicately, relishing the moment of slipping it, picturing the explicit, enticing images of if Judy was actually his wife or rather fiancé. Meanwhile, the middle-aged lady shifted down her stare to his hand, following its motion of slipping the ring as electrifying shivers and paroxysm contaminated her bones and muscles. "You're a rara avis, Jude!" The priest whispered in honeyed voice with his British accent, accentuating on the whisper that fancied she's going to be astounded to bones. At the moment, the nun's honey brown irises were goggled on the simple silver ring, wearing a demure, girlish smile, kissing her lips.

"A rara avis?" Without averting her gaze from the precious ring, she nibbled on the silken skin of her bottom, plumpish lip with her anterior ivory teeth as her heart was enveloped in awe, bizarre felicity, whilst he handed her discreetly the rolled note for her, subsequently maneuvering her to grasp it in her solely free hand. "What on world does that mean?"

"It means a rare bird in Latin." Meantime, her honey brown pools drifted up to his alleviating chocolate brown pools, meeting his stare, locking it up as his only free hand squeezed lightly, affably her balled in a fist hand with the rolled note. "You're a rare bird into my eyes."

"But is this ring for me?"

"Not only the ring." In the meanwhile, the younger man arched gamely his eyebrows, manipulating her eyes to lower to the clutch hand, emboldening her to read the note which was a bonus to her birthday present. "Read the note! It's for you."

When she released the grip, she rolled off the sheet of paper, throughout taking her time to scan the text warily, assimilating every word even if it was short.

Jude, I don't know how to say it but you've always been on my mind and you're the reason why I wear a smile across my lips every day or every time whenever we see each other. I've never been like that ever before. You're my ray of sunshine! That's reason why you're going to have a bonus reward tomorrow or rather on the morning after.

I love you, my rare bird!

Timothy

Once the blonde read the brief message, subsequently crystal, translucent tears rolled on her cheeks, ducking her head as she was beyond speechless somebody is going to be that amiable and lovely to her especially on her birthday as she has outnumbered it as a remarkable day. It was her boss, who eventually was amidst the fewest people or the sole person that cares about her and has a yen to behold her heavenly gleeful.

"Timothy, I've never been that happy ever before or somebody to care about me by making my birthday so special!" The sister of the church muffled tearful mumble as Timothy got from his seat, consequently scooping her in a tight, warmhearted embrace as one of his hands was rubbing her upper back, in order to soothe her and encourage her to subdue the sniffles. In the meantime, her tear-stained, ruddy face was buried in the crook of his neck, scarcely nuzzling the mossy, creamy as satin skin of his neck. Her eyelids were tightly shut as blinds.

"Shu, shu, shu, Jude! You deserve everything that makes you happy." Meanwhile they had their arms snaked around one another's torsos, being clung to one another. "Happy birthday once again, rare bird!"

Shortly after they broke off the hug, consequently her tears ebbed off her face without even being wiped off with a thumb or a handkerchief, whilst her uncontrollable, reckless sniffles subdued, vanished in the thin air at last.