MALAIKA AND KAWEME

The satin curtains shimmered in soft hues of cream and gold, catching the sunlight that filtered through the tall glass windows of the boutique. Wedding gowns hung like dreams along the wall, lace, tulle, silk, all white, all breathtaking.

Malaika let out a gasp.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, then louder, “Oh my God!”

She clutched her chest, tears welling in her eyes.

Kaweme turned toward her with a smirk. “Malaika, why are you crying again? You’re so emotional. Everything makes you cry!”

Malaika sniffled through a smile. “I can’t help it. You’ve been through so much, Kaweme. And now look at you… just look at you. You’re stunning.”

Kaweme stepped in front of the mirror, smoothing down the lace bodice of the wedding dress. She paused, her reflection looking back at her like a version of herself she hadn’t seen in a year, safe, and ready for joy.

She blinked fast, but the tears still came.

“I’ve just been surviving,” she whispered. “And now you’re making me emotional. I thought my sister was going to be dress shopping with me, whenever I was getting married. I always thought my mum would be here too.”

Malaika stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her. “They are here. I believe that. They’re watching from heaven, and they are so proud of you.”

Kaweme buried her face into her friend’s shoulder, tears wetting the fabric of Malaika’s blouse.

“How am I going to get through this?” she whispered. “How do I even begin?”

Malaika leaned back, cupping her friend’s face. “The wisdom of God. That’s how. He preserved you, Kaweme. You could have been on that flight. Your name could have been on that manifest. Your whole family could have been wiped out, but God kept you.”

Kaweme nodded slowly, lips trembling.

“And now,” Malaika continued, “you’re going to live a life that your parents and sister would be proud of. Japheth, he’s not just a good man, he’s the man. That’s God’s protection too. This, this love, this marriage, that’s God showing up.”

Kaweme exhaled shakily and looked at Malaika, both women swiping tears from their cheeks with the back of their hands.

“You tell me you’re not intelligent,” Kaweme said, her voice hoarse. “That you’re just occupying space. That you’re some kind of burden in my life. But you’re the best friend anyone could ask for.”

Malaika laughed through fresh tears. “Stop it. You’ll make me cry all over again.”

A voice called from the changing room.

“Ladies, I’m still waiting!” the seamstress said.

“Yes, yes! We’re coming!” Kaweme called back.

But before they stepped through the curtain, Kaweme paused, turning to face Malaika.

“So… what’s going on with Shem?” she asked. “I thought you two had a moment the last time. Like, a proper heart-to-heart.”

Malaika shrugged, forcing a half-smile. “I thought so too. But ever since he left and went back to his place, it’s like I don’t exist. I’m the one who initiates conversation, and his replies are… short. Cold. It’s like he’s shut me out.”

Kaweme tilted her head. “That’s strange.”

Malaika sighed. “I don’t even know when I’ll see him again.”

“You’ll see him at the wedding,” Kaweme said, linking her arm with Malaika’s.

Malaika muttered, “I’m not that patient.”

Kaweme grinned. “Then you can go and see him today.”

They both laughed.

Kaweme added, “But seriously, be patient. If God wants this for you, nothing will stand in its way. Not even stubborn, emotionally repressed Shem.”

Malaika chuckled softly, her eyes distant. “Amen to that.”

They pulled aside the curtain and stepped back into the glowing room, one of them dressed like a bride, the other slowly stepping into something that looked a lot like love.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

SHEM

The wedding felt like something they had been planning for three years, not three weeks. Every detail had been obsessed over, colors, seating, playlists, even how the chairs were to be tied. But now, finally, it was here. Tomorrow, Japheth and Kaweme would become husband and wife.

Shem was back in his place. With the dust settled, the investigations closed, and Kaweme now safe, there was no reason to remain in hiding or on high alert. The Presidential Medal of Honor hung quietly in a glass frame above his desk, an award he never imagined would bear his name.

He stood by the ironing board in his room, smoothing out the jacket of an old navy-blue suit he’d bought three years ago for a work event. It still looked decent. Functional. That would do.

He needed distraction. The last few days had been hard, not because of stake-outs, not because of old wounds, but because of Malaika.

Since the night in the garden, he had pulled away from her. The feelings she stirred in him were too intense, too consuming. He’d almost kissed her. And Shem wasn’t a man who lost control. So he had distanced himself. They still exchanged occasional messages, mostly short. Surface level. Safe. But tonight… he missed her more than usual.

The iron hissed as steam burst out of its vents, fogging the air. Then his phone lit up.

Malaika.

He turned off the iron and walked to the edge of his bed, sitting down like a man preparing for something sacred. It was as though his thoughts conjured her.

Malaika:

What are you doing?

Shem:

Ironing my clothes for tomorrow.

Malaika:

I can’t wait to see you.

All that abs in a suit. Heyyy.

Shem smiled despite himself.

Shem:

This girl. I’m just wearing one regular old suit I’ve had for years.

Malaika:

Nope. Not on my watch.

Your big brother is getting married once!

Shem:

He’s just two years older, I am not sure about the ‘Big’.

But yeah, he’s getting married. I’m wearing a clean, decent suit. That’s what matters.

Malaika:

That’s not happening. I’m coming to get you.

Shem blinked. Coming?

Shem:

No, no. Please. Don’t. Do you even know where I live?

Malaika:

Okay, fine. Where can we meet then?

Shem:

The wedding is tomorrow, Malaika. There’s no tailor in Lusaka that can make a miracle overnight.

Malaika:

That’s why we’ll buy one. It’s my treat.

Shem’s heart sank. He rubbed his forehead.

Shem:

No. I’m not doing that.

Malaika:

Why are you like this?

Shem:

Because I don’t want you buying me anything.

Malaika:

But I want to. It would make me happy.

Shem:

It won’t make me happy.

Malaika:

So it won’t make you happy that I give you a gift? What does that even mean, Shem? You’ve shut me out. One-word replies. This is the longest conversation we’ve had in days.

Shem:

I just… We said we’d figure this out. That doesn’t mean you buy me clothes.

Malaika:

I can’t do this right now.

See you tomorrow at the wedding.

Shem:

See you tomorrow.

The chat ended.

Shem stared at the screen for a few seconds longer, then dropped the phone beside him. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, and exhaled hard.

“Oh God,” he muttered. “How did I mess that up so quickly?”

He rose and walked back to the ironing board, pressing down the last line in the sleeve of the jacket. “It’s a no-brainer,” he muttered. “I don’t want her to buy me a suit. I don’t want her to see me as a charity case.”

His thoughts swirled, tight, defensive, unresolved.

Then, a whisper in his heart.

“Being cared for doesn’t make you a charity case.”

Shem froze.

He swallowed. “Still. She’s above me. This girl is… way above me. Too soft, too good, too much light.”

He forced his focus back to the jacket. The iron moved slowly this time. A little too slowly.

“Don’t chase her away.”

Where had that thought come from?

He didn’t want to unpack it.

Not tonight.

He folded the jacket and laid it carefully across the back of the chair, whispering to himself, “Tomorrow. Just get through tomorrow.”

JAPHETH

Japheth stood at the altar, trying not to fidget.

He had thought they were planning a small wedding. Just family. A few close friends. Something simple. But it turns out when you’re marrying the daughter of one of Zambia’s most respected men, who may be gone, but certainly not forgotten, people show up.

The cathedral was packed.

Not just packed, the overflow tent outside was full too.

Even on Sundays, this place didn’t see this many people.

And they weren’t here for the reception. They came for the actual wedding. They came to see. To witness. To whisper.

He had heard some of those whispers.

“That guy came from nothing.”

“He’s lucky.”

“Marrying the Muntanga money.”

Japheth smiled quietly. He didn’t mind. Let them talk.

He knew his story. He knew hers.

And he knew that this wasn’t about luck. This was about God.

Still, as he scanned the room, row after row of well-wishers, familiar and unfamiliar faces from every corner of Zambia, his chest tightened a little.

Ham wasn’t here.

He had sent a message. Short. Cold.

“All the best with the wedding. Congratulations.”

That was it.

Japheth had read it more than once, wondering if maybe there was something unsaid behind the blunt words. But there wasn’t. Not even a voice note. Not even a missed call.

Mutale had come, though. He’d seen her slip in earlier, quiet and alone. He was almost certain she was the one who sent the message from Ham’s phone. It felt more like her, always trying to keep the peace.

He sighed, blinking hard.

Today was a celebration. He wouldn’t let the absence of one person overshadow all of this joy. But still, it would’ve meant something. Having Ham here. 

He whispered a prayer in his heart. Maybe one day. Maybe someday, Ham will come home. Maybe grace will find him, too.

The music shifted. Everyone stood.

The doors opened.

And there she was.

Walking down the aisle alone, just like she said she would.

She’d told him, “No one is giving me away. My father is walking me down that aisle, even if no one else can see him.”

He believed her.

She moved slowly, gracefully, like she knew the weight of what this moment meant, not just for her, but for everyone watching. Her father’s name still carried weight. But so did her own story now.

Japheth blinked fast, trying not to cry. But the tears came anyway.

Reverend Charles, standing beside him, gently patted his back.

Luyando handed him a clean handkerchief. Japheth took it, glanced at his brother, and whispered, “Thank you. Thank you for being my brother.”

Luyando smiled. “I love you. Always.”

Japheth turned back, just in time to see Kaweme reach the altar.

The Reverend took her hand and placed it in Japheth’s. And for a second, everything around them blurred out.

He leaned in, voice low but steady.

“Kaweme… my life is yours now. I promise to love you the way Christ loves the church. Fully. With all of me.”

She laughed through her tears. “You’re going to ruin my makeup.”

He grinned. “I don’t care.”

“I love you,” she said.

The Reverend chuckled. “Well, you two seem more than ready. Shall we continue with the vows?”

They both nodded.

And just like that, the ceremony began.

They said their vows.

They exchanged rings.

They were declared husband and wife.

It was a beautiful wedding. Not because of the crowd or the flowers or the choir. But because it was real. Honest. Joyful.

It was everything they had both fought through pain to reach.

And as the congregation stood to clap and cheer, Japheth squeezed Kaweme’s hand and muttered; “This is it. This is the beginning of everything.”

————————————————————————————————————–

Shem had forgotten how exhausting events like this could be.

The wedding was breathtaking. Truly beautiful. But it was also loud, chaotic, and overwhelming, the kind of environment he avoided without apology. Yet here he was, suit slightly tighter than he remembered, collar hugging his neck like it held a grudge.

And still, it was worth it.

As Kaweme walked down the aisle, everyone’s eyes were fixed on her. But not his. His eyes kept drifting to Malaika.

She looked… ethereal. That soft pink bridesmaid dress wrapped around her like it had been made for this moment. Her hair swept up, her eyes glowing with joy for her friend. It was unfair, the way she stood out. It was distracting, how badly he wanted to talk to her.

They hadn’t spoken since the argument. And now, all he wanted was a moment. Five minutes alone to say something, anything, that might undo the damage.

At the reception, he lingered longer than he normally would. Everyone was dancing, eating, laughing. He wasn’t. He kept scanning the crowd. Waiting.

Finally, as he made his way toward the front of the hall, hoping to casually “bump” into her, their eyes met. She smiled.

And just then, he heard his name.

“Shem?”

He turned. Mutale stood there, a delicate clutch in hand, her makeup pristine, though her eyes were heavier than they’d been a moment ago. She didn’t look sad, not exactly, but there was something unsettling in the way she looked at him.

“Mutale,” he said, surprised. “I didn’t know you were here.”

She nodded. “Ham couldn’t make it. But I wanted to represent.”

He sensed there was more, but he didn’t push. They exchanged pleasantries, and then, in that quiet way grief creeps in, her voice lowered.

“I wish Ham found a way to make it here. I am so worried about how cold he is, and how indifferent he can be to his own blood. Even now I worry about my fate, because… because…” She took a breath. “I lost the baby.”

Shem’s chest tightened.

“Oh no. I’m so sorry.”

She gave a small, apologetic smile. “It’s okay. It’s been a few weeks now. It happened three days after the wedding. He was very kind to me, and took care of me to the best of his ability for a few days before he had to go back to Europe. But everything’s just… different. I don’t even know if I still want to go join him. He barely talks to me. His training schedule is so rigid. I wonder if he’s always been like that or he’s avoiding talking to me about our future, a future we rushed into. I feel like I’m walking into a life that doesn’t have room for me anymore.”

Shem gently touched her arm. “Ham will always have room for you. It’s like being married to your brother. He has loved you since you were five and he was seven. You don’t have to figure it all out today.”

“I know,” she said, forcing a laugh. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to drop that on you.”

“It’s okay,” he said, meaning it. “Really.”

He glanced behind her.

Malaika was still standing in the distance, but her smile had vanished. She’d seen them. Seen him talking to Mutale. Close. Quiet. Seriously.

And she turned away.

“Mutale, give me a second,” he said, gently.

He hurried across the room.

“Malaika,” he said, breath catching as he reached her.

She didn’t let him speak.

“I hope you’re enjoying the event,” she said lightly. Too lightly. Her voice held no emotions.

“I was coming to you—”

“It’s fine,” she said, smiling politely. “I’m happy you came. See you around.”

She turned before he could say another word, walking briskly toward the bride.

He stood there, stunned.

He had waited all day for a moment that had just slipped through his fingers.

And this time, he had no one else to blame.

Shem walked back toward Mutale, his mind still half with Malaika, still hoping he hadn’t lost his chance. But now, here was this woman, his brother’s wife, looking like the world had shifted under her feet.

He sat beside her.

“But how did it happen?” he asked quietly.

She let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know. I just woke up one morning and there was blood. We rushed to the hospital, but… it was too late.”

Shem’s heart ached for her. He didn’t know what to say.

Mutale continued, her tone calm but far away. “Ham tried. I mean, he was gentle. Said he was sorry I had to go through that. But… I could see it in his eyes. We rushed into marriage because of the baby. Now there’s no baby, and we’re still married. It’s like we’re just stuck.”

She paused, then added, “My papers will be ready soon. I’m supposed to fly out to meet him next month. But honestly? I don’t even know if I should go.”

“It’s complicated,” Shem said softly.

She laughed bitterly. “It’s more than that. It’s… weird. It’s like we’re strangers now, tied together by something that doesn’t even exist anymore. And it’s not like we can just undo it. I mean, how do you explain divorcing someone you barely got to know?”

Shem looked at her. “Don’t think like that. Your life’s not ruined.”

Mutale scoffed gently. “It feels like it is.”

“It’s not,” Shem said, firmer this time. “You’ve given your life to Christ, your life can never be ruined. Not even by your own mistakes. That’s what grace is.”

She blinked. “Grace?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “When you mess up or you hit a roadblock, you go to Him. You say, ‘Jesus, I can’t fix this, please help me.’ And He will. That’s what kind of Father He is. A fixer. Of impossible things.”

She looked at him, startled by the conviction in his voice.

“Wow,” she said, almost smiling. “Shem, look at you. Preaching to me.”

He smiled back. “Exactly. That’s what Jesus does. He changes people. Tell Him to fix this, Mutale. You don’t have to figure it out alone.”

Mutale exhaled, slowly. “Thank you. Really.”

“I’ll come check on you later this week,” Shem added as he stood.

She nodded. “I’d like that.”

He glanced back toward the hall. Scanned the crowd.

But Malaika was gone.

And just like that, the moment had passed again.

Weeks Later

Back like he never left, Shem was in the barracks. It had been exactly one month since he returned, and truthfully, the quiet rhythm of army life was the only thing keeping his thoughts from spiraling.

His boss, the Colonel, had insisted on forcing him back into official leave, arguing that what he’d just gone through wasn’t the kind of leave a soldier should ever have to take.

But Shem had told him point-blank: “Sir, if you send me home again, I might run mad.”

The Colonel had given him a long look and said, “Hmm. I sense you’ll be needing another break soon anyway. For now, you can stay.”

Shem had raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, sir?”

The man had only chuckled and said, “Call my niece. Fix things up.”

The temptation had been real. His boss’s niece was calm. Beautiful. Uncomplicated. With her, he’d know exactly what he was getting into, none of this emotional rollercoaster that came with Malaika.

He had even prayed about it, knelt beside his bed with all the sincerity he could muster.

Nothing.

The Holy Spirit said nothing. No stirring, no peace. Not even mild curiosity.

But when he thought of Malaika?

His heart leapt. His pulse quickened. Everything in him came alive.

Now, standing under the barracks’ fading evening sun, Shem had just dispatched a few new sergeants for their night patrol when his mind drifted again, as it always did, to her.

It had been one month.

One month of silence.

And yet he missed her like he had known her forever.

How do you miss someone you barely got to know?

On impulse, Shem reached for his phone. He didn’t even have Instagram, but today, he downloaded it and searched for her name till he found her.

And there she was.

Bright smile. Bold colors. Snippets of beats she was creating. A woman full of life and artistry. But her most recent post caught his attention.

A photo of her wrapped in a blanket, barely smiling. The caption read:

“Being a woman is God’s gift, but sometimes, this pain? God, abeg. #cramps #PMS #needcomfort”

Hundreds of comments. Heart emojis. Encouraging prayers. Some weird ones too.

Shem frowned. Why would someone post something so personal?

Then he looked at the time stamp.

Two hours ago.

She was still going through it.

That was all the excuse he needed.

He picked up his phone and dialed. She answered on the second ring, her voice low and croaky.

“Hello?”

“Hey… Malaika. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” she said weakly.

“No, you’re not,” Shem replied gently. “You don’t sound fine.”

She sighed. “Yeah… I’m in the hospital.”

He froze. “What? What happened?”

“It’s nothing serious. Just cramps but it is really bad this time. It happens occasionally. The doctor called it… something-something dysmenorrhea.”

“Who’s with you?” he asked, already reaching for his boots.

“My mom was here earlier. She’s gone for now. She might come back later tonight. But I’m really okay, Shem.”

He ignored her reassurance. “Send me the address.”

“Really, you don’t have to.”

“Malaika,” he interrupted. “Please. Send me the address.”

A second later, her location came through.

Shem didn’t hesitate. He walked straight to the administrative block, dropped a request for a short personal break, and by the time the sun dipped fully below the barracks wall, Shem was already out the gates  headed straight to her.

MALAIKA

It had been over an hour since Shem said he was coming.

And even though she’d told him not to bother, her heart had betrayed her lips. She wanted him to come. She had missed him terribly. But pride had built a prison, and she’d locked herself in it for a month.

As soon as he said he was coming, she texted her mom:

Don’t bother coming, mom. I need some alone time.

“Mummy, I’m fine. Don’t come again, please.”

She sent a similar message to the two friends who had promised to stop by.

She didn’t want anyone else here when Shem arrived. Just him.

Now, an hour had passed. And still, no Shem.

Maybe he changed his mind.

She was about to reach for her phone when the nurse peeked through the curtain.

“There’s a Shem here to see you.”

Her breath caught. “Please, let him in.”

The door creaked. Then he walked in.

And the moment her eyes met his, something inside her settled.

It had to be this man. Or no one else.

He came straight to her side.

“Malaika… what happened?”

She smiled weakly. “It’s just cramps.”

“No,” he said, frowning. “Just cramps shouldn’t land you in the hospital.”

“It’s fine,” she said, “just means I get an excuse for morphine. Plenty painkillers.”

He raised a brow. “You’re spoiled.”

She grinned. “Maybe that’s why you stayed away. You don’t want to be around a spoiled brat like me.”

She paused. “So… why are you here, then? Why did you call me?”

Shem sat down beside her. His voice was quiet but clear.

“You think I stayed away because I think you’re spoiled?”

She nodded.

He took her hand. “Malaika… the very thing you think makes me pull back… that’s one of the things I admire most about you.”

Her eyes searched his. Her heart was racing. She began to whisper a prayer.

God, let him say it. Let him tell me he likes me.

“I like you,” Shem said.

She sucked in a breath.

“I stayed away because… I didn’t think I was good enough for you. I’m hard, Malaika. You’re soft. I like that about you. I like how you make life feel lighter. Brighter. I just didn’t want to ruin something so beautiful.”

Malaika sat up too fast, pain shot through her, but she pushed through it.

“Don’t you ever misunderstand me again, Shem,” she said, voice shaking.

“I like you. I like you so much it scares me. I’ve thought about you every single day. I hid my phone from myself four times in the past month so I wouldn’t call you.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “If you like me back… then don’t hold back.”

Shem stared at her, then he held her hand. “You think you like me because I’m tough. A man in uniform. That sounds good now… but what happens when you realize I’m not your type, that we are different.”

Malaika smiled. “That’s why we balance each other out. You bring strength. I bring softness. We’ll meet in the middle.”

There was a long pause. He looked down, then back up.

“Have you eaten?”

She rolled her eyes. “My mum brought food. I’ve had more than I need. But I don’t want food.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to stop treating me like I’ll break. You need to stop ignoring me.”

He blinked. “You have literally shut me out since that day at the wedding..”

“Because you walked away from me,” she cut in. “That woman held you like she belonged there. And I… I panicked.”

Shem nodded. “Mutale is my sister-in-law. My brother, Ham’s wife. There’s history, yes, but not that kind of history. She is my sister. She was grieving. I was comforting her. That’s it.”

She exhaled slowly. “Okay.”

“And I should have come to clear things up,” he said. “But I took the misunderstanding as an excuse to stay away… again. Because I didn’t feel worthy.”

She scooted closer. “Please… be with me.”

“You don’t have to beg,” Shem said softly. “If you want me, I’m yours.”

She gave him a playful smirk. “So… does that mean I’m your girlfriend now?”

“I didn’t want to rush you…”

“I want you to rush me.”

He laughed. “Okay. Yes. You’re my girlfriend now. And I’m yours.”

She leaned back against the pillows, beaming. “Oh God… I love you.”

Shem looked at her. “I love you too.”

His phone vibrated. He checked it, frowned.

“These people should leave me alone.”

She arched her brow. “What people?”

“My boss. There’s this event he wants me to come for. Some family gathering. Soldier stuff. I already told him, one event this year is enough. I’m not going.”

Malaika grinned. “Who’ll be there?”

“His family. Military colleagues. That’s it.”

She leaned in. “Well, guess what? We’ll be there.”

He gave her a look. “You’re literally in a hospital bed.”

“My period ends the day after tomorrow. I’ll be fine. I’ll dress you. I’ll dress myself. It’ll be our coming out party.”

He chuckled. “I love you so much, this girl.”

She smiled. “And I love the sound of that.”

Author’s Note

And just like that, we’ve completed Book 1 and Book 2 of The Damaged Sons of Noah.

Thank you so much for reading Shem’s Story. I hope it blessed you.

As you’ve seen, we used this book to bring closure to Japheth’s arc by showing how he and Shem found their way back to each other. That moment of reconciliation was powerful for me, and I hope it ministered to you too.

My Lessons From This Book

The biggest lesson for me is Prayer.

That scene where Shem went into the raid while Japheth, Malaika, Kaweme, and Luyando were praying? That scene did something to me. It reminded me that prayer is the most powerful weapon we have as believers. You don’t always need to be on the frontlines to fight, sometimes, your knees on the floor is your sword.

Another big theme was forgiveness.

If Shem hadn’t made peace with his brother, he would have never crossed paths with Malaika. That push and pull, ‘will-they-won’t-they’ relationship was one of my favorite parts to write. It reminded me that God gives beautiful gifts, although sometimes, we just have to wait. We have to grow. We have to stay in purpose.

At one point, Shem could have easily settled. His boss’s niece was right there; available, straightforward, drama-free. But there was no spiritual green light. And because he waited, he found Malaika. Or maybe she found him,

Now, let’s talk about the bombshell: Ham and Mutale.

They got married, because of the baby.

Now the baby is gone.

And Mutale is supposed to join him in Europe… but for what? A marriage built on a mistake?

What does that mean for them?

And more importantly:

Will Ham and Japheth ever reconcile?

There’s still so much to unpack in The Damaged Sons of Noah.

So stay with me. Because this isn’t just a novel, it’s a movement.

A Scripture to Leave With You

“Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us…”

— Ephesians 3:20 (NKJV)

God is always doing more than we can see. He’s working behind the scenes – healing, restoring, preparing gifts we don’t even know we need. So dear reader, stay in purpose. Stay in prayer.

If You’re Led to Partner With Us

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If you’re led to partner with us financially, please send your donation to:

Account Number: 1305932519

Account Name: Oaks of Righteousness

Bank: Providus Bank

Every seed counts, and we deeply appreciate it.

Finally…

Please drop a comment. Let us know how this story blessed you.

And most importantly—share the link (You can copy the link from your browser). Let’s get as many people reading as possible.

I can’t wait to meet you again in the next story.

Get ready for Ham’s story.

With Jesus’ love in every line,

Bolanle.