Veil Of Traditions

Once upon a time, two stepsisters lived in a village where everyone still did things the old way. They prayed together, followed every rule, and never raised their voices—until Leya packed up and left for college in the city. Zazie Skymm watched her go with tears in her eyes but kept quiet. She didn’t like it, yet she stayed silent. A year later they meet again on Pillow Day, the silly holiday they invented as kids. Zazie can hardly believe the girl who steps off the coach. Leya Desantis has the city look now: tight skirt, painted lips, and a swagger that would’ve shamed the priest. The softness is gone; in its place sit city edges and quick little grins. They sit on the bed just like always, stuffing their faces with leftover cake. Zazie chatters about dresses, chapel bells, and waiting till marriage. She sounds exactly the way she always has. Leya listens, then suddenly stops smiling. She reaches out, tugs Zazie’s hand closer, and says they don’t need vows to know what a body wants. Zazie pulls back, cheeks hot. Leya leans in anyway, lips brushing her ear, telling her how good it can feel before any ring. Her fingers slide down the front of Zazie’s nightdress, slow, playful, like she’s unlocking something already half-open. Zazie squirms, but Leya pins her wrists to the pillow and keeps going, saying sin can wait till morning and the night is all theirs.