Grace

By the time I got home, it was almost morning.

The streets had grown quieter than Lagos usually allowed, yet it wasn’t completely silent. Lagos never truly slept, but at this time of the day, it was softer. The kind of quiet that hangs in the air just before the city wakes up and starts stretching itself again.

I had refused Ifeoluwa’s offer to take me home.

Even when he insisted, and said it gently, the way someone speaks when they’re used to being obeyed but are trying not to push.

Still, I took a taxi but in the side mirror, I noticed something – His driver followed us the entire way.

Not close enough to make a scene, but near  enough to make sure nothing happened.

That was the kind of man he was.

Thoughtful in ways that felt almost old-fashioned. Whoever raised him had done a remarkable job.

And that was part of the problem.

Everything about him felt… too perfect.

As the taxi rolled through the early Lagos roads, I stared outside the window. A few buses were already moving. Motorcycles buzzed past us like restless insects.

Who was going anywhere at 4 a.m.?

When we reached my street, I paid the driver quickly and stepped out.

I hoped everyone in the house was still asleep so that  I could quietly slip inside with my key.

But the moment I opened the door, I saw my mother in the sitting room.

She was kneeling on the rug, praying.

Of course.

She turned when she heard the door.

“Ah, you’re back?” she said, rising slowly. “I thought they said you people were working through the night.”

I forced a tired smile. “That was the plan.”

I began walking toward my room.

“I’m really tired, mummy.”

I said that hoping she won’t drag me into a conversation, but I could already hear her footsteps behind me.

Ah. Today of all days.

She followed me into my room and sat down on the small chair near my bed while I began pulling off my clothes.

My head still felt slightly woozy from whatever Adrian had made me drink earlier. The memory alone made my stomach tighten.

“My dear daughter,” my mother said gently, watching me. “What is wrong with you? You don’t look settled.”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Did you abandon your colleagues at work?”

I paused.

“No… yes… not exactly.”

I sat on the bed and rubbed my face.

“That man who called you earlier,” I finally said. “The one who told you I might be busy through the night.”

“Yes?”

“He… likes me.”

My mother’s eyes widened slightly.

“So you were with him, and not at work?”

“Yes.”

“Ah,” she said thoughtfully.

“But he didn’t lie,” I added quickly. “Something actually came up. My office wanted to interview him with the government and he refused, but he was still trying to help me out of the situation.”

She nodded slowly.

“Okay. So who is this man?”

I sighed.

“Mummy… I don’t understand him.”

She leaned forward.

“I met him at Tolu’s wedding,” I said. “And since then he has been… amazing. The things he does. The way he shows up. The way he helps me even when I don’t deserve it.”

I shook my head.

“I can’t even explain everything.”

My mother smiled.

“Well,” she said simply, “that sounds like a promising young man you should get to know.”

“That’s the problem,” I said.

“What problem?”

“It feels unreal.”

I began cleaning my face with makeup wipes even though I had already bathed earlier. Everything tonight had been a blur of automatic movements.

“I feel… targeted.”

My mother burst into laughter.

“So you don’t deserve to be liked by a great man?” she asked. “Is it foolish men you deserve instead?”

“That’s not what I mean!”

I pulled my bonnet over my hair and changed into my nightdress.

“You should be getting ready for work,” my mother said. “But you’re dressing like you want to sleep.”

“I just need two hours,” I muttered. “My brain needs to reset.”

She crossed her arms.

“So what exactly happened?”

I hesitated.

“I told him I don’t want to see him again.”

My mother frowned immediately.

“That doesn’t make sense,” she said. “Everything you’ve said about this man sounds good.”

“Mummy,” I said quietly, “he knows too much about me.”

She waited.

“And he’s not just any man,” I continued. “He’s Prince Ifeoluwa.”

My mother froze.

“Wait,” she said slowly. “That man we see on television?”

“Yes.”

“The one rescuing people and doing all those interviews?”

“Yes.”

“And he likes you?”

I spread my hands helplessly.

“You see now? It doesn’t add up.”

But instead of looking worried, my mother began smiling.

A wide, knowing smile.

“Mummy, why are you smiling?”

“My daughter,” she said calmly, “this is grace upon your life.”

I groaned.

“Please don’t start.”

“I’m serious,” she continued. “When good things choose you, you don’t run away from them. You accept them and learn how to steward them.”

“But I’m scared,” I admitted quietly.

“Of what?”

“That if I accept this… my life won’t be my own anymore.”

She tilted her head.

“You think you’ll have to follow the rules of his kingdom?”

“Yes.”

“And he expects you to be perfect?”, my mother asked.

“No,” I admitted. “He says I should come as I am.”

“Then what exactly is the problem?”

I hesitated again.

“Mummy… apparently his family has known about me since I was a child.”

Her expression changed slightly.

“The blood transfusion when I was sick years ago,” I said slowly. “He said he was the one who donated.”

“That is intense,” she admitted.

She stood up.

“Okay,” she said. “I won’t pretend to understand everything you’re saying.”

She placed a hand on my shoulder.

“But I will say this: don’t reject a good thing simply because you don’t understand it.”

I looked down.

“You have seen bad before,” she continued gently. “So you know the difference.”

Adrian’s face flashed through my mind.

She hugged me and kissed my forehead.

“I’m going back to my prayers,” she said. “I will be praying for you.”

Then she left.

I sat there for a long time after she closed the door. A strange sense of foolishness settled over me.

Yes, I didn’t understand Ifeoluwa, but  I had called him when I needed help.

I enjoyed his presence.

I had trusted him.

And tonight… I had simply walked away.

Maybe he deserved someone better after all.

Someone less confused.

Someone less foolish.

Because my mother was right about one thing.

I had seen bad. I had also just experienced Adrian.

And I knew the difference.

 

——————————————————————————————————————————-

                                                             Prince Ifeoluwa

I did not let my driver take me home.

I should have.

Tonight of all nights, I should have.

But I could not stand the thought of conversation. I did not want questions, or pitying looks, or carefully chosen words meant to soothe a wound no one could see. I wanted silence. I wanted distance. I wanted the road.

So I drove.

The city lights blurred past me as I kept my hands steady on the wheel, my speed measured, my breathing controlled. I had never been reckless and I was not about to start now. Disorder had never been my way. Even in frustration, I knew how to keep myself in check.

Still, my mind refused to rest.

Why was she so difficult?

The question had followed me all evening into morning, circling my thoughts like a stubborn echo. I had prepared for her. I had waited for her. I had shaped my life around the idea of her long before she ever knew my name. I had said no, where other men said yes easily. I had exercised restraint where indulgence would have been effortless.

I was not blind to myself.

If mirrors did not tell me, the world did.

Every day.

I was not merely wealthy. I had freedom, the kind most men never tasted. Access, options, a life that could bend easily to desire. Any woman, any city, any continent, if I chose.

But I had not chosen any of that.

I had chosen her.

When my father first told me about her, I listened, and was willing to comply. Not because I was naïve, and not because I was desperate for destiny, but because my father did not speak loosely. He had never played games with the futures of others. If he said this matters, it mattered.

Even so, belief alone would never have sustained me.

I fell in love with her slowly, from a distance, without ceremony.

I noticed the way she spoke to people who could not advance her life in any way. The way she made room for others, even when she herself needed space. I watched her celebrate her friends publicly and doubt herself privately. I saw the care she took with words, the restraint, the quiet intelligence she did not announce.

I loved that she was kind without trying to be impressive.

I loved that she questioned herself more than she questioned the world.

I loved that she had integrity she did not yet recognise as power.

And yes, I loved her stubbornness, the way she resisted ease, the way she did not surrender quickly, the way she needed to understand before she could accept. A woman like that could not be handled carelessly. She was not meant to be rushed.

I chose her because my father said she was the one but I loved her because she was herself.

Tonight though, she walked away from me.

She had chosen distance, her back straight, her voice steady, her confusion louder than her fear.

And that hurt more than rejection ever could.

I slowed as the gates came into view, grounding myself. Emotion was not an excuse for disorder. I reminded myself of that as I drove into the compound and parked along the driveway, ignoring the valet approaching out of habit.

I took the keys out myself.

My father was awake.

He rarely waited up without reason.

He did not ask many questions. He did not need to. My father had always understood more from silence than most men understood from words.

Whenever the road grew uncertain, I went to him. Not because he controlled my choices, but because he reminded me of the will that shaped them.

We spoke for a while.

When I finally left his study, the restlessness in my chest had quieted.

He had not told me what to do.

He never did.

But somehow, after every conversation with him, the path ahead felt clearer.

——————————————————————————————————————————-

By the time I stepped into my suite, I already knew I would not be alone.

I felt it before I saw her.

Aunty Patience was seated on the couch, her wrapper neatly tied, her back straight, one leg crossed over the other as she scrolled through her phone without really paying attention to it. She always sat like that, unhurried, unbothered, as though time itself had learnt to move at her pace.

She looked up the moment I entered.

“Ah,” she said calmly. “My prince.”

I sighed. “Aunty, I’m the only prince you know.”

She smiled slightly. “That is why it is easy to see when something is wrong with you.”

I dropped my keys on the console and loosened my cufflinks. I didn’t bother pretending.

“What is it?” she asked, already standing. “Come.”

She stepped into me and wrapped her arms around my middle.

I was over six feet tall. She barely reached my chest. The hug landed somewhere around my ribs, firm, grounding, unmistakably maternal. The kind of hug that didn’t ask permission or wait for explanation.

I exhaled without meaning to.

“You see?” she said. “Your shoulders were up like a soldier. Who offended you?”

“No one offended me,” I replied quickly.

She stepped back and looked at my face properly.

“Hmmmm,” she said simply. “That is fine. Sit down.”

I obeyed.

She moved around the suite like it was her own, straightening a cushion, opening the curtains a little, letting the night air in.

“You know,” she said casually, “when a man is quiet like this, it is either a woman or destiny. Sometimes both.”

I almost laughed. Almost.

“Aunty…”

“Don’t start,” she cut in gently. “Your face has already started talking.”

I rubbed my palms together. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

She nodded. “Good. Talking is overrated. Eat first.”

“I’m not hungry.”

She gave me a look.

One look.

“You people and your big problems,” she muttered. “Since when does hunger heal heartbreak?”

She headed toward the small kitchenette in the suite. “I will make you oats. Something light. You cannot be empty and be thinking like this.”

“It’s late, Aunty.”

“So?” she replied. “Is your stomach wearing a wristwatch?”

I shook my head despite myself.

After a few minutes, she placed the bowl in front of me and sat opposite, watching until I took a few reluctant spoonfuls.

“There,” she said. “Now your head can breathe a little.”

I leaned back.

“Aunty… why is it that you always know?”

She shrugged. “You wear your worries openly. Your father hides his. You don’t but that is not a weakness.”

I was quiet.

She studied me for a moment, then spoke again.

“I heard about the girls,” she said. “What you did.”

I stiffened. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

She nodded. “I know but I will still say it. I am proud of you.”

I looked at her. “For what?”

“For remembering that power is for protection,” she replied. “Some people have forgotten.”

Her words settled gently.

“But that is not what is worrying you,” she added.

“No.”

She waited.

I didn’t speak.

She smiled knowingly. “Is it the girl?”

I closed my eyes.

Aunty Patience reached across the table and placed her hand over mine.

“Listen to me,” she said quietly. “You have done your part. You cannot force understanding, or love.”

I looked up.

“You know your problem?” she continued. “You think patience means waiting without pain. It doesn’t. It just means you don’t panic while you wait.”

I exhaled slowly.

“Be anxious for nothing,” she added. “Many people quote it but don’t live it.”

I smiled faintly.

“Thank you, Aunty.”

She stood and smoothed her wrapper. “Go and meet your father. He has been waiting.”

I nodded. “I have seen him, but I need to go and send an email, an idea just dropped on my heart.”

As I turned to leave, she added softly, “Ife…”

“Yes?”

“If it is truly yours, it will not run away.”

I paused.

“But if it runs,” she continued, “then it was never meant to be held by force.”

I stepped out of the suite steadier than I had felt all night.

Aunty Patience always did that.

She never fixed things.

She just reminded you that panic was optional.

——————————————————————————————————————————-

Grace

I arrived at the office just in time to avoid clocking in late.

The moment I opened my laptop, my inbox refreshed.

There was an email waiting, from my Boss.

I groaned.

“Does this man ever sleep?”

I opened it.

Updates on Prince Ifeoluwa.
Urgent.

And right underneath it, a warning:

Do not make me look bad in front of the President.

I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my temples.

I hadn’t even finished reading the message when one of my colleagues hurried toward me from the entrance.

“Grace!” she whispered urgently.

I looked up. “What?”

“Everywhere is tense.”

“Tense how?”

“Government people are not happy. Everybody is praising that Prince guy for rescuing those girls. If we don’t get this interview, the governor will look bad.”

I exhaled slowly.

“But he already refused to sit with the governor,” I said quietly. “What exactly do they expect us to do?”

She lifted both hands helplessly.

“Honestly? I don’t know.”

I glanced across the office.

My boss was walking toward our direction.

Instinctively, I turned away.

“Ah. Not today, or at least, not now.”

Before anyone could call my name, I slipped quietly down the hallway and disappeared into the bathroom.

—————————————————————————————————————————-

Grace

The bathroom was empty.

I walked straight to the mirror and stared at myself for a moment. The woman looking back at me seemed tired and a little confused, but there was also a strange clarity in her eyes that hadn’t been there the night before.

Ifeoluwa had offered me a solution.

A perfect one.

He had made everything so simple, so easy to accept and yet I had walked away.

Because of pride?

I shook my head slowly at my own reflection.

“No,” I whispered.

It wasn’t pride. At least not only pride.

I had refused because I didn’t want to use him. I didn’t want to accept his help at work while rejecting him in my heart. Something about that felt dishonest, like taking advantage of a door he had opened simply because he could.

But even as I told myself that, another question crept quietly into my mind.

Then why did you reject him?

What exactly were you afraid of?

My phone beeped.

The sound broke my thoughts immediately. I picked it up and glanced at the screen.

A message from Adrian.

My chest tightened before I even opened it.

I’m sorry about last night. I thought we were having a good time. If I hurt you in any way, I apologize. Can we see this evening?

I stared at the message for several seconds before shaking my head.

“What is wrong with this guy?” I muttered.

I quickly typed a reply.

I’m going to block you.

My phone rang almost immediately.

Adrian.

For a brief moment I considered ignoring it, but before I could change my mind, I answered.

“Adrian,” I said firmly, “I do not have time for your drama this morning.”

There was silence on the other end.

“I meant it when I said I’m going to block you,” I continued. “And I’m telling you beforehand so you don’t assume it’s network issues.”

“Grace—”

“No,” I cut in. “Listen to me. We are not friends. We are never going to be friends. You are not going to be anything to me.”

Adrian chuckled softly.

“Wow. That was very direct.”

“I’m serious.”

“Why are you resisting me?” he asked lazily. “I mean well for you. I can give you a good life. A fun life.”

I let out a short laugh, though there was nothing funny about any of it.

“Adrian, I don’t want your kind of fun.”

“What does that mean?”

“The kind of fun that leaves me out of my mind,” I said quietly. “The kind that pulls me away from who I’m supposed to be.”

He sighed.

“You’re overthinking things.”

“No,” I replied calmly. “I’m finally thinking clearly.”

I paused before continuing.

“Yes, there are things about you that make you attractive. I’m not blind but those things don’t align with my values.”

Silence filled the line.

“I don’t want to be with you,” I said. “I don’t want to be seen with you. We cannot be friends.”

My voice hardened.

“So please don’t ever call me again. Don’t send gifts to my office. Don’t try to reach me in any way.”

Adrian laughed again, but this time the sound carried irritation.

“You’re not the only girl in the world, you know.”

“Good,” I replied calmly.

“If you don’t want me, I’m gone.”

“Perfect.”

“I’ll block you too.”

“Fine.”

“Have a nice life, Grace.”

The line went dead.

I slowly lowered the phone from my ear and stood there for a moment, the bathroom suddenly feeling very quiet again.

Then I checked myself.

Did it hurt?

Did I feel any sense of loss?

Surprisingly… no.

Men like Adrian rarely disappeared permanently anyway. They left dramatically, only to return later as if nothing had happened. And if he did come back, the answer would still be the same.

‘No.’

I looked at my reflection again and allowed myself a small smile.

I hadn’t solved my work problem.

But I had solved something far more dangerous.

For the first time in a long time, I had chosen myself.

My phone buzzed again in my hand.

For a split second, my heart jumped.

I thought it might be him.

Prince Ifeoluwa.

But when I looked down, the screen was blank.

Just a delayed notification.

I exhaled slowly and shook my head at myself.

“Why was I even expecting that?”

Yet somehow, I knew one thing with unsettling certainty.

The real complication in my life had never been Adrian.

It was deciding what to do with Ifeoluwa, and right now, I think I had finally pushed him away.

—————————————————————————————————————————–

The bathroom door suddenly swung open.

“Grace!”

I turned just as another colleague rushed inside, slightly out of breath.

“Grace, where are you hiding?”

I frowned. “What happened?”

“The boss is looking for you.”

I groaned under my breath.

“Oh God.”

My stomach dropped instantly.

“What does he want from me now?” I muttered, more to myself than to her.

“I can’t perform miracles,” I added quietly. “Prince Ifeoluwa is not my property.”

My heart was beating harder than it should have as I walked back toward the office floor.

I loved this job. Not just liked it, I loved it.

It was exactly the kind of career I had always imagined building for myself. For the past two years, everything has gone smoothly. Whenever my boss had something complicated, something that required strategy, negotiation, or delicate communication, he came to me.

And I always delivered.

So if I told him I couldn’t handle this one assignment, he should understand.

At least, that was what I kept telling myself.

But the closer I got to his office, the tighter my stomach became.

—————————————————————————————————————————–

When I stepped onto the floor, I expected to hear my name called immediately.

Instead, I found my boss standing near the conference area with the widest smile on his face.

I slowed down. Why was he smiling?

The moment he spotted me, he clapped his hands loudly.

“Grace! My dear Grace! You’ve done it again!”

I stopped in my tracks. Done what?

Forcing a polite smile, I walked closer. “Sir…?”

Before I could finish the sentence, the entire floor suddenly erupted into applause.

People were clapping. Actually clapping.

I raised both hands quickly, embarrassed. “Guys, stop, stop, please. This whole thing is still a mess. I’m trying my best, but—”

“Stop being humble!” my boss cut in, laughing. “You’ve done it again!”

My confusion deepened. “What exactly have I done again?”

He was about to respond when another voice cut through the room.

“I had to come myself the moment I heard.”

Everyone turned.

Our Director had just walked in.

We almost never saw her in person.

My heart dropped immediately.

Now I was certain something had gone wrong. My boss was praising me publicly so that I would take the fall privately.

That had to be it.

She walked straight toward me, her expression warm.

“Grace,” she said, extending her hand. “We are very proud to have you on this team.”

I blinked, still trying to understand what was happening.

“We’ll talk later,” she continued, “but the agency is already discussing some things for you. I saw your request about pursuing your master’s in film abroad.”

My eyes widened.

“We’ll discuss that later,” she repeated gently. “First, let’s finish this.”

Finish what?

Before I could ask the question forming in my mind, the atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted.

People straightened.

Someone whispered behind me.

“The Prince is here.”

My heart skipped.

And then I saw him.

—————————————————————————————————————————–

Ifeoluwa walked into the office as though he had always belonged there.

Calm. Composed. Effortless.

For a brief moment our eyes met, just a flicker of recognition before the moment slipped away.

My boss hurried forward to greet him, our director right behind him, and the rest of the office broke into applause again.

I remained where I was, stunned.

What was he doing here?

Only a few hours ago I had told this man I wanted nothing to do with him.

Now he was standing in my office.

My boss shook his hand eagerly. “Your Highness, thank you so much for coming.”

Ifeoluwa nodded politely, then turned toward me.

“Good morning, Grace.”

His voice was calm. Professional. Nothing in his tone suggested that we had spoken privately the night before.

I nodded back. “Good morning.”

A small smile crossed his face.

“Shall we proceed?”

Proceed with what?

He turned slightly toward the room. “Like I told Grace yesterday, this interview has to be done my way. My assistant, Georgina, has already prepared the questions she will ask.”

My boss nodded quickly. “We reviewed the script you sent this morning. It works perfectly.”

Our Director added, “Of course we would have preferred to do this alongside the governor, but this solution works well.”

My boss chuckled. “When you messaged me saying you and Grace had discussed it and that you were coming in, I knew she had pulled it off again. She was pretending with us this morning like she had no idea.”

The entire room laughed.

I stood there in silence.

Pretending? I had no idea what he was talking about, but those were thoughts I didn’t voice out.

Everything after that moved quickly, too quickly.

We were led into the studio. The questions appeared on the teleprompter. Cameras were adjusted, lights turned on, and before I had time to gather my thoughts, I was seated across from Ifeoluwa.

The glass of water in my hand trembled slightly.

Inside, I was shaking.

Outside, I looked perfectly calm.

For a brief moment Ifeoluwa glanced at me. And smiled.

Not the public smile.

A quieter one. Steady and reassuring.

I inhaled slowly.

Then the cameras rolled.

—————————————————————————————————————————–

The interview went better than I could have imagined.

The questions were diplomatic.

Precise.

Carefully written.

He spoke about the responsibility of citizens to work with government institutions.

He praised the soldiers risking their lives.

He acknowledged the structures the government had built that made rescue operations possible.

Not once did he falsely credit the government for what they had not done.

But he also never embarrassed them.

The balance was masterful.

When it ended, the room erupted into applause.

I hadn’t realized how tense I was until the cameras stopped.

Ifeoluwa stood and shook my hand.

“Excellent work,” he said, maintaining a professional, and polite stance, like we were meeting for the first time.

Then he stepped away.

Group photos followed.

My boss and our director walked him out.

Everyone around me was talking at once.

“Grace, that was incredible!”

“Career-defining moment!”

“No wonder they want to sponsor your masters!”

“You just interviewed Prince Ifeoluwa!”

I smiled.

But inside, something felt different.

—————————————————————————————————————————–

The rest of the day passed in a blur. We began editing the interview immediately.

Clips were sent to television stations.

Channels TV, Arise, Online platforms.

Newspapers.

Everyone wanted the story and by evening the interview was already circulating everywhere.

As I sat at my desk reviewing the final report, one thought kept returning to me over and over.

Why would a man like that come after me…

…only for me to push him away?

Someone who always made sure I had what I needed.

Someone who protected me from embarrassment even when I didn’t deserve it.

He hadn’t even acknowledged me.

Not really.

He had kept a professional distance.

All through that afternoon, I found myself checking my phone.

Waiting.

Maybe he would message.

Maybe he would call.

He didn’t.

I leaned back in my chair and sighed.

It had been a good day.

A very good day.

But the happiness felt incomplete.

Because somewhere along the way… I had pushed Ifeoluwa away.

And now I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to get him back.

I stayed at work longer than I needed to.

Long after everyone had begun packing up for the day, I remained at my desk, pretending to be busy, refreshing documents that had already been finalized.

The truth was simple.

I did not want to go home.

All afternoon I had checked my phone more times than I cared to admit.

No message.

No call.

Nothing.

By 7 p.m., I finally gave up.

I packed my bag slowly.

It was time to go home.

—————————————————————————————————————————–

The taxi had just merged into traffic when my phone rang.

Tolu.

I smiled despite myself and picked up.

“This one that you’re calling me from the moon,” I teased.

“What moon?” she laughed. “The moon has finished. My husband had to go back to work.”

“How? I thought newly weds disappear for two weeks.”

“We’re pausing the honeymoon,” she said dramatically. “We’ll continue later. Work emergency.”

I laughed.

“No wonder you remembered me.”

“Excuse you,” she replied. “My chief bridesmaid, my personal person, my ride-or-die…”

She began her usual exaggerated hype.

“How are you? What has been happening?”

Tolu was the one person I could never lie to.

So I told her everything.

Adrian.

The drink.

The humiliation.

And Ifeoluwa.

How he had rescued me again.

How he had helped me today.

And how I had still pushed him away.

When I finished, Tolu was quiet for a moment.

Then she said flatly, “Adrian is an idiot.”

I laughed weakly.

“You have no idea.”

“I actually do,” she replied. “Long story, but Adrian has practically been removed from the family.”

“What?” I sat up. “Then why was he at your wedding?” Because I assumed if he was your family member, he must be a decent person.”

She sighed.

“I’m sorry if I misled you. He’s not.”

“And Ifeoluwa?” I asked.

She hesitated, then lashed at me. “I can’t believe you told that man no.”

I stared out the taxi window.

“If he calls again,” I said quietly, “I’ll give him a chance.”

Tolu gasped dramatically.

“Ah-ah! You are still doing shakara.”

“What do you mean?”

“What is this ‘if he calls again’ nonsense?” she said. “After everything that has happened, you better call him yourself.”

I was quiet.

“You are the one who told him you don’t want him,” she continued. “He won’t force you.”

“That’s exactly the problem.”

“That’s because you don’t understand the kind of man he is,” Tolu said. “Ifeoluwa won’t chase you aggressively. He will keep showing you that he cares. He will help you. He will protect you.”

She paused.

“But he will never force you.”

Her voice softened.

“That’s royalty.”

“If the door is closed, he will stand outside but he will not break it down.”

The taxi slowed in traffic.

“And right now,” she continued, “the key is in your hands.”

I swallowed.

“What if he’s moved on already?” I whispered. “What if he doesn’t want me anymore?”

Tolu burst out laughing.

“That man? Move on?”

“You don’t know him,” she said. “Ifeoluwa doesn’t give up on things that matter to him.”

Another pause.

“Call him.”

—————————————————————————————————————————–

The call ended around 7:30.

I sat quietly in the back seat of the taxi.

Then, almost without thinking, I opened Instagram, and went straight to Ifeoluwa’s page.

I stared at his photos.

God.

This man is fine.

But it wasn’t just that.

The causes he stood for.

The way he used his power.

The wisdom.

The calm authority.

The generosity.

This wasn’t just a good man.

This was a rare man. A king among men, and he wanted me.

Suddenly the truth hit me. I wanted him too, and it was more than I had allowed myself to admit.

With him, life didn’t feel confusing. It felt right, like something had fallen into place.

Even the master’s degree I had been chasing suddenly felt secondary.

Not unimportant, but not at the center anymore.

The center was him.

Ifeoluwa.

The love of God.

His name suddenly made sense.

A man who had loved me patiently, quietly, and consistently.

My chest tightened.

Oh God.

What if I had ruined everything?

Before I could overthink it, I dialed his number.

Then I leaned forward.

“Please turn around,” I told the driver.

He glanced at me through the mirror.

“Madam?”

“Please. Turn back to the Island.”

“Ah, madam,” he said cautiously. “We will have to leave the Third Mainland Bridge and climb it again.”

“That’s fine,” I said quickly. “I’ll pay. Please just turn back. Take me to Ikoyi.”

I didn’t even know if he was still there.

I didn’t know if he would agree to see me.

But I knew one thing.

I had to move toward him.

—————————————————————————————————————————–

He picked up on the first ring, as always.

“Ifeoluwa,” I said immediately.

“I’m sorry.”

My voice cracked slightly.

“I’m very, very sorry.”

There was a brief pause.

Then his calm voice came through.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“Is it because I showed up for you today?”

“No,” I said quickly. “It’s because I finally understand.”

Another silence.

“You are an amazing person,” I said softly. “And I want you in my life.”

He inhaled quietly.

“Grace,” he said gently, “I don’t want you to come to me because of what I can give you.”

I shook my head quickly, even though he couldn’t see me.

“It’s not about that. It’s about you. Your mind. Your heart. The way you live your life. You’re… amazing.”

He chuckled softly. “Me? Amazing?”

“Yes,” I said.

“I want to see you,” he replied after a moment.

My heart leapt.

“I’m already on my way,” I said quickly.

“Can we have that date tonight?” He asked.

“Yes.”

I laughed through sudden tears.

“You’re not even making it difficult.”

“Why would I?” he said calmly. “I have always wanted you, and now you have said yes.”

His voice softened.

“It feels like the beginning of forever.”

“Ifeoluwa,” I whispered.

“You make this so easy.”

“Because, Grace,” he said gently,

“I love you.”

“And nothing…”

“…nothing can separate you from my love.”

Another tear slipped down my cheek.

And in that moment, I knew something else too.

I loved him.

Not yet with the depth of his love.

His love was an ocean.

Mine was still learning to swim.

But it was real.

And it was growing.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said.

“See you soon,” I replied.

And for the first time since this strange, beautiful story began…

I felt certain that I was finally walking toward the life meant for me.

——————————————————————————————————————————-

Author’s Note

When I began writing Coming After You, my intention was simple: I believed this story would run for 52 weeks.

My plan was to sit with it every week of the year, writing a new episode each time, allowing the journey to unfold slowly. I wanted the discipline of returning to this story again and again as a reminder that something is always coming after us, and that every day we must choose which voice we will follow.

But as it pleased the Lord, the story came to an end much earlier.

And I have learned something important about writing for God: when the message is complete, you do not stretch it unnecessarily. You honour the moment and you stop.

So this story ends here.

And in truth, this was never just a writing journey for me. It has been a journey for all of us.

If you have read this story from beginning to end, then you already understand that Coming After You is more than a romance. It is a story about salvation and choice.

The characters represent something deeper.

Ifeoluwa is a Yoruba name that means “The Love of God.” In this story, Ifeoluwa represents Jesus, the One whose love pursues us patiently, faithfully, and without forcing us.

The Bible reminds us:

“But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:8

Adrian represents temptation, deception, and the voice of the enemy, the kind of attraction that feels exciting but slowly destroys.

Scripture warns us:

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it more abundantly.” John 10:10

And Grace is exactly what her name implies.

The grace of God.

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

2 Corinthians 12:9

But grace must be received and honoured.

The Apostle Paul reminds us clearly:

“Shall we continue in sin that grace may abound? Certainly not.”

 Romans 6:1–2

Grace is not permission to live carelessly. Grace is the opportunity to live transformed.

My prayer is that as you read this story, you recognize something in your own life.

Perhaps you have been standing between two voices, one that slowly destroys and one that patiently calls you into life.

The Holy Spirit is gentle, but He is also intentional. And the Bible warns us:

“Do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God.” Ephesians 4:30

Please do not ignore His call.

The truth is that many people believe they can live half-hearted lives with God and still be safe. But the enemy works quietly. Destruction often happens slowly. Like a cake being sliced little by little, everything may still appear whole for a while, until one day you realize nothing remains.

Do not wait until you are empty.

Allow Christ into your life fully.

Jesus Himself said:

“Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in.” Revelation 3:20

When Christ takes over your life, something changes. Your life begins to make sense in ways you never imagined.

Many people think surrendering to God means losing freedom or excitement, but true intimacy with God produces life, purpose, and fruit.

One of the ministers whose teachings have deeply blessed me, Apostle Joshua Selman, often explains that intimacy with the Holy Spirit produces results the same way intimacy in marriage produces life.

Where there is healthy union, there will be fruit.

If your spiritual life feels barren, something may simply need healing and restoration. God is able to restore what seems broken if we remain in relationship with Him.

“Abide in me, and I in you… whoever abides in me bears much fruit.” John 15:4–5

This is my prayer for you: that you choose life. That you choose Christ. That you allow the love of God to pursue you, and that you respond.

—————————————————————————————————————————–

Supporting the Work

Stories like this are part of a larger mission.

We are working to publish and distribute these novels physically so they can reach schools, churches, hospitals, and communities where stories can be used as tools for evangelism and encouragement.

Some of the books we hope to print and distribute include:

• But Yahweh, I Prayed
• Rebirth
• Cheer Up
• Holy Prostitute

… and many more

Right now, the donations we receive come in small amounts, and we are grateful for every single one. But to reach more people, we will need more support.

If you feel led to support this work, you can send a donation to the account number listed below.

1305932519

Providus Bank

Oaks of Righteousness

However if you would like to partner with us in a larger capacity, please reach out by email:

theplantedoaksofrighteousness@gmail.com

Your support helps us continue creating stories that point people back to Christ.

Thank you for reading.

May God bless you richly.

 

Yours in Christ,

Bolanle Oyindamola Jenrola

 

9