The Zoom call had ended, but the prayers did not.

Like a relay race in the spirit, they had agreed to take turns through the night, each person carrying the baton for an hour before handing it over. It was a vigil without walls, stretching across cities and time zones, bound together by the name of one man: Ham.

Mutale chose the first watch.

She dimmed the light in her living room, knelt by the couch, and opened her mouth to pray.

But no words came.

Instead, her chest caved inward and the tears spilled.

“God…” Her voice broke on the single syllable. “I don’t even know how I messed this up.” She shook her head, pressing her palms into her eyes. “My role in this man’s life was to bring him to You. That was it, but somewhere along the line, I got… carried away. And now—” Her breath caught. “Now he’s farther than ever.”

Her sobs grew heavy, slowing her words into gasps. “I’m sorry, Lord. I’m sorry for where I failed. I’m sorry for thinking I could fix him in my own strength. I’m sorry for walking away without hearing from You first.”

The heaviness didn’t lift immediately, but a quiet nudge in her spirit urged her: 

Open your Bible.

Her hand trembled as she reached for it, flipping without thought. The pages stopped at Romans. Her eyes fell on the words as though they had been waiting for her all along:

“There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.”

She froze.

“No condemnation…”

It was as if the words pressed gently on her heart, lifting the pressure an inch at a time. She wasn’t beyond repair. God wasn’t finished with her.

A sob escaped her again, but this time it was softer. “Thank You for forgiving me, Lord. Thank You for not throwing me away.” She pressed her forehead to the couch. “Please, please let Ham find You. Let him taste this peace. And Lord… let me find him again too. I love him, I want to be with him, but not in my timing, not by my emotions. Show me how to proceed. I don’t want to get this wrong. I don’t want to rush ahead of You.”

The tears flowed more now, but they mixed with a strange, quiet strength. Her shoulders still shook, but her voice steadied. “I give us back to You, God. Him. Me. All of it.”

She stayed there, in the stillness, long after the hour was up. When her time ended, she passed the baton in the prayer chain, but the fire on her altar didn’t go out.

HAM

Ham barely slept, yet for the first time in weeks, he felt a strange kind of peace, knowing that soon he would see Mutale again. The thought steadied him, gave him something to hold on to. Whatever it took, he was ready to bring her back into his life. That same resolve pushed him toward the meeting he had arranged with a Real Madrid scout. David had always handled those conversations before, but Ham could no longer trust him. If David could steal his passport, who knew what else he was capable of? This time, he decided to face Madrid on his own.

The private lounge was almost too quiet.

Muted jazz hummed from invisible speakers, the air faintly scented with expensive leather and citrus polish. The walls were lined with bookshelves that looked like they were more for decoration than for reading, and the long windows overlooked the early-morning drizzle of London.

Ham was early, deliberately so. He’d learned from Japheth that arriving before the other man gave you a kind of unspoken advantage. It made people walk into your space, on your terms.

To pass time, he was reading through the bible app on his phone. Japheth had told him to start with John, but Ham had decided to start with Matthew, the beginning of the book. The words about Jesus, His voice in the wilderness, His steady hands on the sick, His calm command over storms, felt strangely alive.

Ham whispered under his breath, “Jesus… You feel so… real.”

The word lingered like a foreign taste in his mouth.

He scrolled on his phone, paused, then opened ChatGPT.

Give me a scripture that helps me understand Jesus, His realness, and why I should give my life to Him. Now beyond the scripture, tell me what you think about Jesus. Don’t you think he’s a scam?

The AI answered in moments, offering him:

John 14:6 – “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.” 

Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection are among the most historically documented events in ancient history, and His teachings continue to transform lives across cultures and centuries. Far from being a scam, His claim was not about building an empire of wealth, but about reconciling humanity to God. Billions follow Him today because their personal encounters with Him have proven Him to be exactly who He said He was.

Ham stared at the screen. The answer felt genuine.

“Jesus,” he muttered, “my whole family swears You’re more than just a Sunday school story. That You’re… real.” He sat back, restless. “If that’s true, You’re going to have to show me Yourself.”

Before the thought could settle, the door opened and the Madrid scout stepped in. A tall, broad man with a quiet confidence, he crossed the room in long strides.

“Ham, my man.” They shook hands firmly. “Where’s your manager? I thought David would be here.”

“I wasn’t joking when I said I was considering leaving him,” Ham said evenly.

The scout raised his eyebrows. “David has your best interests at heart. He’s one of the best in the business.”

“I’m not sure I can cope with him anymore,” Ham replied.

“Well, that’s between you and him.” The scout leaned forward, lowering his voice. “But hear me out, Real Madrid isn’t just offering a contract. We’ll give you the best training facilities in Europe, global exposure, and a brand that will outlive your playing days. London is good, but Madrid will put you on a different map entirely.”

Ham listened, weighing every word. “Chelsea has given me a good financial deal, I am comfortable here” he countered.

“They might have more money too,” the scout said, “but Madrid has the stage that you need. This is more than football. It’s about making history. You’ll be part of a team that shapes the game for the next generation. And comfort—” he smiled faintly “—comfort can be found in Spain too.”

Ham drummed his fingers against the table. “I don’t know. I can’t give you an answer yet.”

“We can’t wait forever,” the scout said gently. “It’s almost season time. Make up your mind fast.”

Ham rose first, pushing back his chair with a quiet scrape against the polished floor. The scout looked up in surprise.

“I’ll think about it,” Ham said, slipping his phone into his pocket. “But no promises.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked out of the private lounge. The low murmur of other conversations, the clink of cutlery, the faint scent of roasted coffee, all of that blurred into background noise.

Outside, the late morning light spilled through the tall glass windows, gilding the edges of his thoughts. The scout’s words continued to echo, platform, history, comfort, opportunity, and yet threading through them all, quietly yet persistent, was a verse he couldn’t shake:

I am the way, and the truth, and the life.

He didn’t know why it felt more potent than any contract on the table, but it did.

Ham exhaled, long and slow, as he stepped into the London air. The question of where his future lay, on the pitch and off it, remained impossible to answer, because without Mutale in it, his future didn’t excite him.

JAPHETH

The gym smelled faintly of iron and eucalyptus oil, the low hum of the treadmill in the corner filling the otherwise quiet space. Japheth stood before a rack of dumbbells, sweat beading along his brow as he lifted with steady precision. His breathing was rhythmic, the kind that was born from years of discipline.

His phone, propped against a water bottle, lit up with Kaweme’s smiling face. He thumbed it on without pausing his reps.

“Hey, my love,” she said, her voice exciting him. “You sound like you’re running a marathon.”

“Not quite,” Japheth grinned, lowering the weights and setting them down with a muted clink. “Just the gym in Ham’s house. Trying to keep these abs from disappearing.”

She laughed softly. “I can’t wait to see them again. When are you coming back to hold me?”

“Soon,” he said, reaching for a towel. “But first I have to finish this assignment God has given me. You know why I’m here.”

“I know,” Kaweme said, her tone both resigned and tender. “It doesn’t stop me from missing you though.”

He smiled at the screen, imagining her sitting cross-legged on their bed, hair wrapped, her laptop probably open beside her. “How did your meeting go with the Chinese suppliers?”

“I’m going to do both orders,” she said with quiet pride. “And I’m locking in ten thousand units.”

Japheth let out a low whistle. “When you have money, you can dream big dreams.”

Kaweme chuckled. “And when you have a husband like mine, you learn to take risks.”

They lingered there a moment longer, exchanging the kind of small, easy words that only belonged to people whose lives were intertwined.

The door opened then, and Ham stepped in, dressed in a fitted tee and joggers. “Oh, so this is where you’ve been hiding. I always pegged you for just being a bookworm.”

Japheth ended the call with a promise to ring Kaweme later, then grinned. “I didn’t grow these abs by typing away on a keyboard. When you live a sedentary lifestyle like I do, you have to work out. That’s how we stay healthy.”

Ham smirked. “I thought Jesus keeps you healthy.”

“Yes, He does,” Japheth said easily. “But there are principles for life. One of the things He told me in prayer five years ago was to exercise daily. I haven’t missed a day since.”

Ham arched a brow. “So Jesus is your fitness coach?”

“Jesus is my everything.”

“Interesting.”

Ham crossed to the rack, grabbed a kettlebell, and began his own set. For a while, the two men moved in companionable silence, the only sound was the clink of metal and the steady thud of shoes against the padded floor.

Then Ham stopped, rolling his shoulders. “I’m about to make a decision today, and I don’t know if it’s the right one. And since I don’t have Jesus like you do, I’m borrowing your corporate brain.”

Japheth dropped into a squat beside his weights. “I’m all yours. I could also pray with you.”

“I’m going to sack my manager,” Ham said bluntly.

Japheth straightened. “Don’t make a rash decision. David has your best interests at heart. Think about it first.”

Ham sighed. “You are the second person saying that today, and you may be right because I think I miss him already, but Mutale is my priority and he clearly doesn’t want that. I don’t even know who I’m playing for next, Madrid or Chelsea. I want to win Mutale back and bring her to London, but with all the drama happening here, Madrid could give us a new beginning. David is going to hate that, he loves London, I just… I don’t know. I am confused.”

“Then don’t rush,” Japheth said, his voice calm. “Pray. Apart from not firing David, my biggest advice is, pray.”

Ham gave him a half-smile. “You guys pray about everything?”

“Yes,” Japheth said simply. “The bible says, Men always ought to pray and not to faint. And right now, you’re fainting. You’re unhappy. But if you pray, you’ll find strength, and wisdom.”

Ham rolled the kettlebell in his hand. “Okay. You pray. I’ll watch.”

“Ham…” Japheth’s voice was steady.

“What? I’m trying. I’m reading the Bible, trying to understand God for myself.”

Japheth nodded. “And that’s always a good idea.”

They went back to their sets, the air between them lighter but lined with unspoken questions neither was ready to answer.

Ham broke the silence, wiping his face with a towel. “I rented a private jet.”

Japheth looked up mid-rep, and jokingly said, “You don’t already own one?”

Ham smirked. “I’m a conservative.”

They both laughed, the sound echoing off the mirrored walls.

Then Ham’s tone shifted. “We’re going home. I need to see Mutale before I make a decision between Chelsea and Madrid, and all I have is one week.”

Japheth set the dumbbells down, nodding slowly. “That’s more than enough time. And if we’re flying home…” a knowing smile spread across his face, “I might just surprise my wife.”

Ham chuckled. “Double mission.”

Japheth grinned. “Triple. Don’t forget the one God sent me here for.”