The weeks dragged on, each day blending into the next. Sister Bernadette wore a mask of duty, yet inside, she was unravelling. Her midwifery duties continued and she attended Lauds and Compline. She shared meals with her fellow nuns and nurses, but she felt like a ghost among them. Her mind was a turbulent sea of thoughts and emotions, leaving her adrift in despair.

In moments of solitude, Sister Bernadette sought refuge in the chapel. There, on her knees with her head bowed low, she cried silentlyWhere has He gone?The question echoed in her heart like an unanswered prayer.

For nearly a decade, she had dedicated herself to serving God and her community. His voice had always guided her—until now. No matter how fervently she prayed or how deeply she rededicated herself, silence reigned where once there was comfort.

Is this my punishment?She pondered bitterly. Had indulging in her feelings for Dr Turner and his son led to this spiritual drought? Had imagining a life intertwined with theirs broken the sacred vows she cherished?

Sister Bernadette felt lost—truly lost—in a way that left no room for solace. She withdrew from Dr Turner and distanced herself from her fellow nuns and nurses. In times of turmoil, Sister Julienne would have been her confidante, but shame clung to her like a heavy cloak. How could she confess the turmoil within? All that remained was the desperate act of prayer.

One late evening after a long delivery—thankfully successful—Sister Bernadette returned to Nonnatus House quietly. She closed the front door softly to avoid waking anyone and made her way straight to the chapel. Dropping her bag near the door, she walked forward until reaching the altar where she fell to her knees.

Tears streamed down as if they had been waiting for this moment to break free. Each drop felt like self-punishment for allowing herself to feel so deeply for Dr Turner— a man who did not belong to the religious life (or to her) but understood her in ways faith could not reach.

In that sacred space, with only flickering candles as witnesses, Sister Bernadette poured out her heart to God: "Help me find my way back." Each tear carried a plea for guidance and healing—a desire for clarity amidst confusion.

As darkness enveloped Nonnatus House outside those chapel walls, Sister Bernadette found herself caught between two worlds: one filled with devotion and service, another shadowed by longing and regret.

The struggle within was profound yet silent—a battle fought on bended knee beneath the watchful gaze of divine grace that felt so distant now.

She prayed not just for answers but for strength—the strength to face both love and loss without losing sight of who she truly was meant to be: A servant first, navigating through human emotions while seeking divine connection once more.

And so there she knelt—broken and unsure of how to proceed from here.

xXx

Meanwhile, Sister Julienne had become increasingly worried about Sister Bernadette's well-being. Over recent weeks, Sister Bernadette had withdrawn almost completely; although still fulfilling necessary duties, the spark that once lit her spirit had dimmed. Sister Julienne watched silently as distress clouded Sister Bernadette's demeanour day by day.

Late one restless night, unable to sleep easily as usual, Sister Julienne ventured out of her room towards the kitchen for warm milk when something caught her eye—the chapel door slightly ajar with soft light spilling out into the corridor.

Curiosity pulled at her feet as she approached quietly; there, the soft glow of candlelight illuminated a heart-wrenching scene. Sister Bernadette knelt at the altar in deep prayer, with tears streaming down her cheeks—a sight both familiar yet heartbreaking.

Walking silently into the chapel, Sister Julienne made her way towards Sister Bernadette's trembling form before kneeling beside her gently placing a comforting hand on her shoulder "My dear child," she whispered softly "whatever is troubling you?"

Sister Bernadette turned toward Sister Julienne; tears streamed down as words escaped too quickly from trembling lips "I…I can't…He isn't….punishment…done…" Her words stumbled out in broken whispers.

"Oh my sweet child," replied Sister Julienne soothingly "calm down now; let us sit together." With care assisting Sister Bernadette up whose legs shook beneath their weight while kneeling too long at prayer's mercy—they moved towards nearby benches nestled against candlelit walls' embrace.

"What is troubling you my dear?" The question hung in the air like a fragile prayer. But silence enveloped them; Sister Bernadette stared at her hands in despair as tears continued to fall.

It was clear to Sister Julienne that Sister Bernadette was unable and unwilling to fully express inner turmoil swirling within. An urgency crept closer with each passing minute for Sister Julienne.

Worry gnawed at Sister Julienne's heart. "You know you can talk to me about anything," she urged softly. "I want to see you happy, but I cannot help if I do not know what ails you."

Sister Bernadette finally spoke again, voice trembling. "His voice no longer guides me; this is my punishment for…" Her words trailed off into silence.

Realising that more encouragement was needed, Sister Julienne replied gently, "You don't need to explain your feelings of punishment for me to reassure you that God is always by your side—even when His voice feels silent. He does not give punishment; rather He offers love and guidance."

"It is not unusual for a crisis of faith to occur". She continued softly "You are not the first sister to feel this way - and you will certainly not be the last."

They sat together in stillness until Sister Bernadette broke it again with profound sorrow: "I don't believe it's simply a crisis of faith but rather a punishment for my thoughts and feelings." Tears fell freely now as she leaned into Sister Julienne's embrace.

With each sob that wracked Sister Bernadette's body, Sister Julienne rubbed her back soothingly and whispered words of love and comfort into her ear. Slowly but surely, the storm within began to settle.

"Remember" she said gently tucking back the few strands of hair that escaped her cap "You are never alone in this journey and no matter what thoughts or feelings you have had; He is not punishing you my dear sweet child"

After some time passed and calmness returned to their hearts, Sister Julienne stood up with determination. She led Sister Bernadette back to her room and helped remove her habit and wimple with gentle hands. Tucking her into bed like a cherished child, she whispered softly: "It's time for you to rest now. I'll relieve you of your duties for a few days; take this time for yourself."

Sister Bernadette did not respond verbally; instead, she buried herself deeper into the pillow as silent tears continued their descent down her cheeks.

With concern heavy in her heart, Sister Julienne left the room quietly and closed the door behind her with utmost care. Troubled thoughts followed as she returned to bed—her own sleep would be fitful tonight.

xXx

Dr Turner stepped into the kitchen of the Parish Hall, expecting his usual warm welcome. But that day, it was eerily quiet. Sister Bernadette, who always greeted him with a steaming cup of tea and biscuits, was absent.

Concern crept into his mind.It wasn't like her to miss a day of work. He walked out of the kitchen and into the main hall, where nurses and nuns were bustling about, preparing for their patients.

His eyes searched for Sister Julienne, who was busy organising the welcome desk with patient names. Approaching her, he tried to keep his tone light. "Sister Julienne, how are you this afternoon?" he asked.

She looked up and smiled gently. "I'm well thank you, Dr Turner. How about you? Ready for another busy clinic?"

"Absolutely!" he replied with a grin, but an uneasy silence hung between them.

Breaking the stillness, Sister Julienne asked, "Is there anything I can help you with?"

Dr Turner hesitated before speaking up again. "I noticed Sister Bernadette isn't here today… is everything okay?" His voice betrayed a hint of concern.

"She's taking some time off to rest," Sister Julienne replied calmly. Yet her expression told a different story—one filled with worry.

"I hope she's alright," Dr Turner said quickly. "Is she still feeling unwell?"

Sister Julienne raised an eyebrow in curiosity but maintained her composure. "Her ailment isn't physical; she just needs some time away." Her voice was steady but lacked reassurance.

Not entirely satisfied but sensing he should tread lightly, Dr Turner nodded respectfully. "Very well then, please let me know if I can assist in any way during her rest."

He turned away to prepare for the clinic but couldn't shake off his worries about her. She had seemed distant lately—almost as if she were avoiding him since that night at his house when he held her hand too long.

What have I been thinking? She is a nun!The memory of whispering that she would always have a home there echoed painfully in his mind—had she heard me? Have I crossed an unspoken line?

As thoughts spiralled in confusion and regret, the sounds of pregnant women and children filled the hall for their appointments snapped him back to reality.

Shaking his head clear of distractions, Dr Turner put on a smile and faced the crowd of patients waiting for care. Yet even as he attended to their needs with professionalism and warmth, she lingered in his thoughts—a constant reminder of unspoken feelings and unanswered questions that weighed heavily on his heart.

That day would be busy; yet amidst all the activity around him, one thing remained clear: he needed to understand what was happening with her before it consumed him completely.

xXx

Sister Julienne returned to Nonnatus House late in the afternoon, her mind heavy with thoughts. Dr. Turner's probing questions about Sister Bernadette echoed in her ears.What was troubling Sister Bernadette? Is it possible that Dr. Turner played a role in her distress?The question gnawed at Sister Julienne as she walked through the familiar halls.

As she entered her office, she felt the weight of her responsibilities pressing down on her. She had always maintained a clear boundary between her duties and personal matters. She believed deeply in her calling, dedicating herself to God's work without hesitation. The allure of freedom—of having a husband, children, or personal possessions—held no sway over her heart.

Yet, nearly ten years ago, everything changed when Sister Bernadette arrived at Nonnatus House. Fresh from nursing quarters in London, she was quiet and reserved at first, but it didn't take long for Sister Bernadette to blossom into the remarkable nurse and midwife she is today. Her selflessness made her an invaluable part of the community in Poplar. Over time, their relationship evolved into something unexpected—a bond akin to that of mother and daughter.

Sister Julienne had never borne children of her own, but she cherished this connection with her as if she were family. Like any mother, she yearned for her daughter's happiness and well-being.

Now faced with a dilemma, Sister Julienne wrestled with what actions to take next. As a superior nun, she should offer support without prying into personal matters too deeply. Sending Sister Bernadette away to the Mother House for rest seemed like a prudent choice—but could she really do that?The thought felt wrong; it felt like abandoning someone she loved.

Her heart conflicted between duty and affection. She resolved to continue supporting her while encouraging open communication between them. However, if the young nun remained closed off and continued spiralling into despair, Sister Julienne knew there would be no other option but to speak with Dr Turner.

After all these years together at Nonnatus House, could he shed light on what troubled Sister Bernadette so deeply? Perhaps he held insights that could help both women navigate this emotional turmoil.

With each passing moment spent contemplating these choices, one thing became clear: love transcended titles and roles within the convent walls. In this sacred space dedicated to service and compassion, even boundaries must bend for those we hold dear.

Sister Julienne took a deep breath and prepared herself for whatever lay ahead—for herself as much as for Sister Bernadette—and hoped that love would guide them through this challenging time together.