Episode 10

The front door swung open, and Maryann stepped into the living room. Tari, who had been pacing the floor, turned to her immediately.

 

“Thank you,” Tari said, relief evident in her voice. “Thank you so much.” 

 

Maryann barely acknowledged the gratitude. Instead, she waved a dismissive hand. “I didn’t do it for you to say thank you,” she replied. “I did it because I care about Timothy. I need to see him.”

 

Tari exhaled, already expecting this. “I don’t think he’s in the mood to see anybody.” She folded her arms, glancing toward the hallway. “Since he got back four hours ago, he has locked himself in his room.”

 

Maryann gave her a knowing look. “Well, I just saved him from a scandal. I’m sure he wants to see me, even if it’s just to say thank you.” 

 

Tari hesitated. It was true that Maryann had helped, but Timothy… he wasn’t himself right now. She weighed her options and finally said, “Okay, you know what? Give me a second. Let me go check on him.” 

 

With that, she disappeared down the hallway, leaving Maryann standing in the middle of the living room. Mrs. Ebele Johnson, who had been listening to their conversation from the hallway, finally walked in. 

 

“Maryann, my dear, how are you?” she asked warmly, though curiosity sharpened her tone.  Tari told me that you got the post taken down. How did you achieve it?”

 

Maryann offered a small smile. “It was simple, really. I checked the blog’s contact details, every blog has one, even the unserious ones. And since I have a Google Alert set up for Timothy’s name, I was one of the first people to see the post.” 

 

Mrs. Johnson’s brows lifted slightly. “A Google Alert?” 

 

Maryann nodded. “Yes. Anytime Timothy’s name appears in the media, any media, I get an email alert. So, the moment I got that email this morning, I forwarded the link to Tari and got straight to work. I contacted the blog and told them to take it down immediately, or else we would sue them.”

 

Mrs. Johnson leaned forward, interested now. “And they agreed just like that?”

 

Maryann’s lips curled in slight amusement. “Fortunately, the girl behind the blog is just some small-time blogger who happens to live near Amarachi’s house. She was simply at the right place at the right time and decided to use the situation to chase clout. But thankfully, no bigger bloggers had picked it up yet, so I was able to shut it down before it spread.” 

 

She tilted her head, the hint of a smirk forming. “I also promised her something small in exchange.”

 

Mrs. Johnson exhaled in relief. “Maryann, you are a good girl. You have always been a good girl.” She reached for her hand and gave it a firm squeeze. “Imagine having a Google Alert just to make sure you know everything that happens with him. You’re a thoughtful girl. Thank you.” 

 

Maryann lowered her gaze slightly, not out of shyness, but as though she was trying to downplay the compliment. Mrs. Johnson, overcome with appreciation, pulled her into a warm embrace. 

 

At that moment, Tari returned from the hallway, her expression neutral. 

 

“He really isn’t in the mood,” she announced, “but he’s very grateful to you, and said we can meet him in the studio in thirty minutes, he just needs to tidy up a few things first.”

 

Maryann’s face lit up, satisfied. “That’s fine. At least he’s willing to talk. But before then, you have to feed me. I’m starving.”

 

Tari chuckled. “You’re always starving.” 

 

Maryann grinned. “Tari, there is a live-in chef in this house. What did he cook today?” 

 

Tari rolled her eyes playfully. “Look at this one. Just because you pulled a solid, you are demanding food like a queen.” Then she smirked. “Don’t worry, if you want us to prepare  a feast for you, we will do it. You’re a lifesaver.”

 

Maryann let out a small laugh as they made their way toward the dining area, feeling proud of herself.

 

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

 

Timothy laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling, exhaustion finally catching up with him. The past twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind, between his mother’s outburst, the unexpected visit to Amarachi’s area, and the blog drama, he needed more time to process everything.  

 

Just as he exhaled deeply, his phone vibrated beside him. He lazily reached for it, expecting another annoying message from the family group chat. But when he saw Amarachi’s name, he sat up immediately, his heartbeat picking up pace.  

 

Amarachi: Timothy, I just wanted to say thank you. For everything. I honestly believe that the prayers you were praying while you were in my house played a huge role in the dream I had. I feel like I’m beginning to gain some clarity about things that have troubled me for a long time. I’ve spent years wondering if Christianity is real or just something we’ve made up to give ourselves a sense of purpose and stability. But now… I feel like things are starting to make sense. Bit by bit, I see clearer. Your messages, your kindness, your presence… they’ve helped me more than you know. I appreciate you. Thank you. 

 

Timothy reread the message, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. ‘My messages?’ he wondered.  

 

He had not been sending her messages, had he? Apart from the brief conversations they had over the past few days, he hadn’t exactly been feeding her faith directly.  

 

Then a sudden thought struck him.  

 

His blog. 

 

He quickly opened the site on his phone, scrolling through the past messages he had received anonymously. He clicked on the most recent ones – the ones from the woman who had been wrestling with her faith, asking deep questions about God, about Jesus, about salvation.  

 

Could it be…? 

 

Without hesitating, he typed:  

 

Timothy: Amarachi, have you been leaving comments on my blog posts?  

 

It took a moment before she responded.  

 

Amarachi: Let’s keep it anonymous. 

 

Timothy chuckled, shaking his head.  

 

Timothy: So it’s you. No wonder I had a strong connection to the conversation.

 

Amarachi: Anonymous.  

 

Timothy smiled to himself. Of all people… Then he sent a proper response.

 

Timothy: I want to be here for you through this journey. Until you have full clarity. I’m so grateful to God that you had that dream, but please, don’t let it end there. Just because you saw Him in person doesn’t mean the conversation stops. Keep talking to Jesus. Even if you can’t see Him physically, He is still real. He still listens. The moment you call His name, He is right there, present. Omnipotent. Omniscient. Always waiting.

 

Amarachi took a while before responding. When she did, her reply was simple.  

 

Amarachi: Yes, sir. I will. 

 

Timothy smiled.  

 

Timothy: You guys still haven’t left?  

 

Amarachi: Nope. I’m just tired of waiting here. This trip is dragging so much. Some people reached out to my father. I think something is happening in our village, but he hasn’t given us the full details.

 

Timothy glanced at the time: 12:54 PM.  

 

Timothy: This is almost 1 PM. You know it’s not safe for you to start travelling to the East this late, right?

 

Amarachi: I’ll keep you posted. 

 

Timothy: Please do.

 

Just as he sent the last message, there was a knock on his door. Before he could respond, the door cracked open, and Tari peeked in, arms crossed.  

 

“Timothy, do you want to see Maryann or not?” she asked, her tone exasperated. “You told us thirty minutes. It’s been forty-five. It’s somehow.”  

 

Timothy sighed, running a hand down his face. “Sorry. I was in the middle of something important.”  

 

Tari narrowed her eyes, stepping inside fully. “Or you were just chatting with someone.”  

 

Timothy smirked. “Yes. Someone important.”  

 

Tari rolled her eyes. “Timothy, I really hope you know what you’re doing.”  

 

Timothy met her gaze, his expression turning serious. “Since you’ve known me, when have I not?”

 

Tari let out a dramatic sigh. “Let’s go, let’s go. Maryann is waiting.”  

 

Timothy slid his phone into his jean pocket, stretched lazily, and got up.  

 

“Yes, ma.”  he teased, dodging a playful slap on the back from her as they headed out together.  

 

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

 

Amarachi and the entire family left the park and went back to the family house. However, their compound was a chaotic scene. The once lively atmosphere of Christmas anticipation had been swallowed up by frustration. Tension loomed in the air like the heavy harmattan dust settling on everything in sight.  

 

Children, exhausted from the long wait, were finally huddled in a corner, eagerly devouring bowls of rice, their noisy chatter the only remnant of the festive spirit that was supposed to fill the air. The adults were grouped in clusters, engaged in heated discussions, their voices carrying different tones of frustration, disappointment, and resignation.  

 

Amarachi sat with Ada and one of their cousins on a low wooden bench, her eyes darting back and forth, following Ziora, who was running up and down the compound with the other children. Every few minutes, Amarachi would call out to her daughter, warning her to be careful.  

 

Ada let out an exasperated sigh. “Let’s just cancel this trip,” she muttered, arms crossed. “But Daddy says we must still go and spend some time there. Honestly, for me, this Christmas is already ruined. Imagine us spending Christmas Eve in confusion instead of on the road.” 

 

Their cousin scoffed. “But wait… are they fighting in our village or a neighbouring  village?”  

 

Ada shook her head. “It’s the village itself. Some youths got angry because Senator Ike came home to throw a big retirement party for his wife. Now they’re demanding their entitlements. I heard things turned violent. The whole place is in chaos as we speak.” 

 

Their cousin sighed, rubbing her temples. “Honestly, I don’t even feel like going again. So right now, all the roads that lead to the village are blocked?”  

 

Ada nodded. “Yes, but Daddy and the other Elders are convinced that the whole thing will blow over soon. He thinks we can still travel tomorrow or something.”   

 

Amarachi finally spoke, her voice firm. “Travel on Christmas Day? This whole thing is weird. We’re just speculating. The roads are blocked. There’s unrest. What if we leave and get stranded on the way?”  

 

Before Ada could respond, the front door swung open, and one of the young men in the house stepped out, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention.  

 

“Everybody, the elders have called a meeting. Let us come into the parlor now.”

 

Ada frowned. “Can the parlor even take all of us?”  

 

The man shrugged. “Let’s just go. Your father said it’s important.”  

 

Ada and her cousin stood to leave, but Amarachi stayed rooted to her seat, reaching for Ziora and lifting her into her arms as though the child was a shield.  

 

Ada noticed immediately and turned back. “Amarachi, what are you doing? Why are you hiding?”  

 

Amarachi exhaled, shifting uncomfortably. “I just don’t want to face Papa.”  

 

Ada folded her arms. “And when exactly do you plan to face him? You’ve been avoiding him since we arrived. If you don’t come now, you’ll still have to answer him later. Just come, he definitely won’t have the energy to focus on you now, with everything going on.”  

 

Amarachi tightened her hold on Ziora, looking away. “I just don’t want to argue with him. Anything that’s not safe, let’s not do it. That’s my take.”  

 

Ada sighed, stepping closer. “Come and tell him yourself. Papa needs to hear all sides before he decides. Don’t just stay here and assume he knows what is safe or not.”  

 

Amarachi hesitated. “I’ll try to air my opinion,” she muttered. “I really don’t think going is a good idea.”  

 

Ada simply raised a brow. “Let’s go. Then we’ll find out.” 

 

With a reluctant sigh, Amarachi adjusted Ziora on her hip and followed them inside.  

 

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

 

As Timothy and Tari step into the living room, Maryann rises immediately from the couch, concern etched on her face. 

 

“Timothy, are you okay? What happened?” she asks, scanning him as if checking for injuries. 

 

Timothy offers a small, appreciative smile. “I’m fine, thanks to you. I heard you handled the blog issue. I really appreciate it.” 

 

Maryann waves it off with a chuckle. “Of course. I’m your unofficial Public Relations Officer, remember?”  

 

Timothy nods. “I am grateful.” 

 

From the corner of the room, Mrs. Ebele Johnson cleared her throat dramatically. “Ah, Maryann, we are all grateful. This whole issue could have been a disaster.” She shifted her attention to her son, her tone turning sharp. “Timothy, see what you are doing to us! Putting us in the public eye like this, dragging our family name through the mud!”  

 

Timothy sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Mummy, with all due respect, you put yourself in the public eye. You embarrassed yourself, not me. Did you look at the blog, it was not even about me. It was about you.”  

 

His mother scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Well, thank God Maryann was able to clean it up. Please, stay away from that girl. I don’t understand what kind of jazz she’s using on you.”  

 

Timothy clenches his jaw. “Mummy, can we not have this conversation right now? It’s inappropriate.” He turns apologetically to Maryann. “I’m sorry you have to hear all of this.”  

 

Maryann crosses her arms. “No, I don’t mind. Honestly, I’m also a bit worried, Timothy. That girl, Amarachi, she’s not your type. She’s not the kind of woman you should be associated with, especially considering her past.”

 

Timothy’s mother snaps her fingers. “Thank you, Maryann! Help me talk some sense into him! Maybe he will listen to someone else since he has seen me finish. The girl is nothing to write home about; she has a child, and lives in the slums!”  

 

Timothy’s patience finally snapped. “Mummy, don’t talk about Amarachi like that! I can’t stand it.”

 

His mother’s eyes widened. “Why is it hurting you this way? Timothy, wait… what exactly are you trying to say? Are you two dating already?” 

 

Timothy exhaled, and looked directly at her. “She was my girlfriend.”  

 

Maryann jumped in. “Exactly. Past tense. There’s a reason she’s in your past, Timothy. And that’s where she should stay.”  

 

Silence hung in the air until Tari spoke, her voice firm. “And what if he doesn’t want her to stay in the past? What if he still sees her as his present? Or even his future? Who are we to decide what’s right for him?”  

 

Timothy’s gaze softened as he turned to face Tari, appreciating her words. “Thank you, sis. I really appreciate you.”  

 

Mrs. Johnson let out a loud hiss. “Tari, you had better shut up! If you have nothing meaningful to say, go to your room and stop making matters worse! What do you mean by his future? That girl?!”  

 

Timothy straightened, “Mummy, stop referring to her as ‘that girl.’ Let me make something clear – I love Amarachi. I have always loved her. I still love her. I have never had romantic feelings for any other woman except her.”  

 

His mother gasped. “Hey! Jesus!” 

 

Maryann’s lips parted in shock. “Wow… What am I even doing here?”  

 

Timothy’s voice remained steady. “I’m not trying to be dramatic, but I won’t lie to myself anymore. If the Holy Spirit allows, if He ministers to her and we can start again, I will pursue a relationship with her.” 

 

Timothy’s mother clasped her hands, looking toward the ceiling. “God, what have I done to deserve this kind of situation?”

 

Before anyone else could speak, the TV screen flickered to a breaking news segment. Arise News.  

 

Tari squinted at the screen. “Ah… what’s happening?” She grabbed the remote control and increased the volume.  

 

The news anchor’s voice is urgent. “There is ongoing unrest in the southeastern region following an altercation between Senator Okafor and aggrieved youths during his annual yuletide visit where he celebrated his wife’s retirement. The situation escalated into violent clashes, with multiple reports of injuries. Authorities have confirmed that roads leading in and out of the affected villages are currently blocked. More updates to follow.”  

 

Timothy’s heart dropped and immediately, he stood up. “Oh my God… Amarachi. That’s where she’s going.” 

 

Maryann and Mrs. Johnson exchange worried glances.  

 

“Excuse me.” He said as he turned abruptly and rushed out of the living room, already dialling Amarachi’s number.  

 

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

Timothy paced the length of his studio, phone pressed to his ear, his heart pounding. The moment Amarachi picked up on the first ring, he exhaled a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.  

 

“Amarachi, what’s up? Did you guys see the news?”  

 

Her voice came through, steady but tinged with frustration. “Yes, we saw it. That’s why we’re still here. We’re trying to decide if it’s a good idea to go.”  

 

Timothy shook his head instinctively. “Amarachi, there’s nothing to decide. Clearly, it’s not a good idea to go. The roads to the villages are blocked. There’s literal chaos happening over there.”  

 

She sighed. “I know, but my father and the other elders are being stubborn. They insist we wait it out today and see how things look tomorrow before deciding.”  

 

Timothy’s jaw tightened. “Amarachi, I don’t like this at all.” 

 

Her laugh is soft, almost teasing. “Why are you sounding like a concerned boyfriend?” 

 

The words were barely out of her mouth before she realised what she had just said. “Timothy, I’m sorry. That was—”  

 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Timothy interrupts smoothly. “If you want, I can be a concerned boyfriend. I wouldn’t mind at all.”  

 

She paused, caught off guard. “Uh-uh, that was out of the blue. Are you… are you asking me out?”  

 

Timothy chuckles. “I wish I didn’t even have to ask. I wish you were already mine.”  

 

A soft silence lingered between them before Amarachi breathed out, “Oh, Timothy…”  

 

He cleared his throat, bringing the conversation back to its urgency. “But we can talk about that later. Right now, I’m just worried about this trip. Are you sure it’s worth it? Putting Ziora through all this uncertainty? It feels dangerous. Reckless, even.”  

 

Amarachi’s voice turned somber. “I know. But my father insists we stay back today and if, by tomorrow, things settle down, we’ll leave first thing in the morning.”  

 

Timothy ran a hand over his head. “Amarachi, I’m worried.”  

 

“Don’t be,” she murmured. “I’ll be fine.”  

 

He stopped pacing, gripping the phone tighter. “I don’t want to guess that you’ll be fine, Amarachi. I want to know for a fact.”  

 

She sighs again, but this time, there’s a raw edge to it. “The only thing that can make me truly fine right now is if Ziora is okay. If God will just heal my daughter. Because honestly, whether there is unrest or no unrest, I’m still not fine.”  

 

Timothy listened intently as she continued, her voice thick with emotion.  

 

“The embarrassment is too much. People greet her, but not because they care—just to observe her. The way they call her name, not to be kind, but because they want something to talk about. They’re whispering, commenting on how she hasn’t developed. But they don’t know her. They don’t know how beautiful and special my daughter is.”  

 

Timothy closes his eyes, feeling her pain. “Amarachi, forget them. They don’t matter. They don’t know Ziora. But God does. And I do. I know she’s special. She will be okay. I am praying for her. We are praying for her.”  

 

She didn’t respond for a moment, but he could hear her breathing.  

 

“Please, Amarachi,” he says softly. “Keep me updated on everything. And I really hope you guys don’t travel tomorrow. Maybe sit this one out.”  

 

Amarachi exhaled a humourless laugh. “Sit it out and do what? Christmas with my family is already complicated. But without them? That’s a lonely Christmas.”  

 

Timothy’s voice was firm, and filled with conviction. “It won’t be lonely. I’ll be here.”  

 

She scoffs lightly. “Timothy, you’ll be with your family.” 

 

“And I want you to be my family too,” he replied without hesitation, then he added “We are brothers and sisters in Christ. So if you’re around, we’ll find a way to spend Christmas together.”

 

She didn’t respond immediately and he waited, allowing the words to settle.  

 

Finally, she sighed. “I don’t know. Let’s see what my father decides.”  

 

Timothy nods, even though she couldn’t see him. “Alright. Just… keep me posted.” 

 

“I will.”  

 

There was a small pause before she softly said, “Goodbye, Timothy. I need to go. We were in a meeting.”  

 

“Okay, Amarachi. Stay safe.”  

 

She ended the call.  

 

Timothy stared at his phone for a moment before dropping it onto his desk, his heart still racing.  

 

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

Ada stepped out of the crowded living room, rubbing her arms from the warmth of too many bodies pressed into a tight space. She spots Amarachi in the kitchen, rinsing a cup absentmindedly, her gaze distant.  

 

“What’s the conclusion?” Amarachi asked, barely turning her head.  

 

Ada sighed, leaning against the counter. “Nothing has changed. Daddy is still considering tomorrow, but we’ll see.”  

 

She narrows her eyes, suddenly studying Amarachi’s face. A slow smirk spreads across her lips. “Now, hold on a second. That look, who were you talking to?”  

 

Amarachi immediately looked down, shaking her head. “No one.” 

 

Ada folded her arms, her smirk deepening. “No one? Please. Was it that guy? Minister Timothy?” 

 

Amarachi hesitates, then nods once, trying to play it off.  

 

Ada’s eyes widened. “What?! Where did you meet him? How come you even know him?!”  

 

Amarachi let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “You won’t believe it. He was my boyfriend.”  

 

Ada stared at her as if she just confessed to dating the President. “Excuse me? What? When?!”  

 

Amarachi shrugged. “Secondary school.”  

 

Ada’s jaw dropped. “Secondary school?! Are you telling me that the biggest Christian artiste in Africa, the one that even mummy and daddy know and respect, was your secondary school boyfriend?!”  

 

Amarachi chuckles. “Yeah, he was my first boyfriend. And honestly… my best.” 

 

Ada was still gaping at her. “And you just… let him go? Why?”  

 

Amarachi sighed, placing the cup down and turning fully to her sister. “I was foolish. We got into university, and I didn’t think we could make it work. He was in Covenant, I was in Unilag, and I wanted to… I don’t know… explore.”  

 

Ada shook her head in disbelief. “Wow. So how is he back in your life now?”  

 

Amarachi ran a hand through her hair. “It’s a long story. I don’t even know where to start. But yeah, here we are.”  

 

Ada raised a brow. “Right. And him dropping you off so early this morning? That’s nothing? Amarachi, please.”  

 

Amarachi groans, rubbing her temples. “It’s complicated. Yes, I know he still likes me. And I can’t lie, I have deep feelings for him. But right now, I’m leaning on him for discipleship. He’s helping me grow in my faith.”  

 

Ada snorts. “Discipleship? That’s what you’re calling it?”  

 

Amarachi glared at her. “Ada, I mean it. This time, I don’t want to be with a man just because it makes sense or because I want to. I want to be with someone because it’s the right thing, because it’s God’s will.”  

 

Ada tilted her head, her smirk turning into something softer. “Did you see the way he was looking at you this morning? The way he was helping you? Amarachi, a man like that is a gift. If he wants to be with you, allow him.”  

 

Amarachi’s chest tightened. “You don’t get it, Ada. I don’t think I’m good enough for him. He’s… perfect. Trust me, everything you know about him is only half of who he really is. His family? They’ll never accept me. I’m not the kind of woman they’re expecting.”  

 

Ada frowned. “What are you even saying?”  

 

“I mean it,” Amarachi continued, her voice quieter now. “I don’t even blame them, because I know I’m not the kind of woman for him. He deserves one of these tongue-speaking sisters, the ones who grew up in the church, who never lost their way. Not me.”  

 

Ada took a deep breath, then placed her hands on Amarachi’s shoulders. “You also speak in tongues. Yes, you might have lost your way, but you have been back for a while. You need to stop thinking so low of yourself. What’s the point of him being with one of these ‘perfect’ ladies if you’re the one he loves? If you’re the one who makes him happy?”  

 

Amarachi shook her head. “It’s not that simple.”  

 

Ada scoffed. “Maybe it’s not. But you also have to think about this from his perspective. This isn’t just about what ‘feels right.’ It’s about what is right. And if Timothy, a man you’ve described as perfect, chooses you, then maybe you should stop deciding for him whether you deserve him or not.”  

 

Amarachi looked down, her heart pounding. Finally, she whispered, “I love him.”  

 

Ada beamed as she spoke. “Then don’t let him go. Again!”  

 

Before Amarachi could respond, a loud voice cut through the kitchen.  

 

“Amarachi! Wetin do your pikin?”  

 

Both women turned as one of their aunties marched in, hands on her hips. “Why she no dey play with the other children? She just dey one side. Why? She no dey talk? Wetin happen?”  

 

Amarachi’s body stiffened. “There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s just a little different.”  

 

The woman frowned. “Different how? Why? Ah, Amarachi, this is not good o! Is she sick?”  

 

Amarachi forces a tight smile. “She has Autism Spectrum Disorder.”  

 

The woman’s eyes widened in horror. “Autism? Ah! That’s bad! Very bad! How you go cope? This kind thing… shey she go ever dey normal? She fit live normal life like this?”  

 

Ada stepped forward, irritation flashing across her face. “Aunty, calm down. Please. What’s all this?” 

 

Amarachi clenched her fists, forcing herself to stay calm. But she couldn’t.  

 

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice clipped. And with that, she turned and walked out of the kitchen.  

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

 

The day had been impossibly long; so long that even at 9 P.M., Timothy felt like the day was just starting (if the had been long, why does he feel like its just starting. His mind was restless, his spirit unsettled. He had spent the entire day trying to focus, but Amarachi lingered in his thoughts.  

 

So he prayed.  

 

First, for himself.  

Then, for Amarachi.  

Then, for the journey ahead.  

 

He had fought the urge to call her again, knowing she might find it intrusive or exhausting. Still, his heart was with her. His spirit ached to intercede for her safety, for clarity, for the unknown future ahead of them both.  

 

As he continued to pray, his voice low, his head bowed, he suddenly heard it – clear, firm, urgent.  

 

Release. Release this sound. The Encounter.  

 

Timothy exhaled, rubbing his temple. “God, my heart is somewhere else, but I believe Your heart is somewhere else too.” 

 

The command remained. The pull was unmistakable.  

 

So he obeyed.  

 

He walked into his studio, turned on the streaming camera for YouTube, and adjusted his guitar strap. His fingers found their place on the strings, and without overthinking, without waiting for his producer’s approval, he began to play.  

 

The song that had been brewing in his spirit.  

 

The song that needed to be sung now. 

 

The Encounter.  

 

He allowed the melody flow, let the lyrics pour from his lips, raw and unfiltered.  

 

I have wandered, I have questioned,  

Is Your love still reaching me?  

Through the silence, through the distance,  

Still, You whisper, “Come and see.”  

 

Chorus: 

I have met You in the fire,  

I have seen You in the storm.  

But tonight, I need an answer,  

Let me find You, make me Yours.  

 

Verse 2: 

Not a vision, not a shadow,  

I need more than just a sign.  

Speak the words that shake the heavens,  

Tell me I am truly Thine.  

 

Bridge:  

Oh, my soul longs for encounter,  

Not just echoes in the night.  

Break the veil, tear through my doubts,  

Let me stand in holy light.  

 

Chorus (repeated, soaring into worship):*  

I have met You in the fire,  

I have seen You in the storm.  

But tonight, I need an answer,  

Let me find You, make me Yours.

 

Timothy’s voice cracked as tears slipped down his face. He wasn’t just singing. He was releasing.  

 

The presence in the song was undeniable.  

 

The presence of God was undeniable.  

 

His hands trembled as they played, but the anointing in the atmosphere carried him forward. The YouTube comments rolled in faster than he could process:  

 

“Oh God, I needed this right now.”  

“This song just pulled me out of depression.” 

“Minister Timothy, I don’t know how, but this was for me! 

This is the best way to start the Christmas holidays.” 

“Please, sir, release this song officially! I need it on my playlist!” 

 

The numbers on the live stream climbed. He had only planned to sing for a few minutes, but the worship stretched for over an hour.  

 

By the time he strummed the final chord, Timothy exhaled deeply, his heart still racing.  

 

God had spoken.  

 

And tonight, He had released a sound that was not just for the world—but for him too.  

 

As Timothy ended the live session, he wiped his face, exhausted yet fulfilled. The presence of God was thick in the room, but so was something else—an ache.  

 

A longing.  

 

He set his guitar down and leaned against the studio wall, exhaling deeply.  

 

“Lord,” he whispered, “give me a sign.” 

 

His voice was steady, but his heart was raw.  

 

“Give me a sign to make me know that pursuing a marriage is the right thing to do right now. I don’t want to rush her. I want her to grow in her faith, to be solid in You. But God… I’m lonely. I want a woman to call my own. And I want it to be a marriage.”  

 

He sighed, shaking his head with a small, tired chuckle.  

 

“Please, God, I need an encounter.”  

 

He smiled, as if amused by himself, then pushed himself off the wall, heading toward his room.  

 

Then his phone rang.  

 

The sound sliced through the quiet.  

 

Timothy paused, glancing at the screen.  

 

Amarachi.  

 

His breath caught.  

 

She had never called him first. Not once since she came back into his life.  

 

He stared at the screen, the ringing filling the room, filling his spirit.  

 

He smiled.  

 

“If this isn’t a sign,” he murmured, “I don’t know what else is.” 

 

Then, with a steady hand, he answered.  

 

—————————————————————————————————————————

Timothy barely had time to say hello before Amarachi’s excited voice burst through the phone.  

 

“Oh my God, Timothy! She said hello! She said hello!”  

 

His brow furrowed.“Wait… was that Ziora? Did she call me?”  

 

Amarachi exhaled shakily, her joy tangible even through the call. “Yes! She was with my phone, watching cartoons. Then I looked over, and I saw her press something, before I knew it, she put the phone to her ear and said hello.”  

 

Timothy closed his eyes, absorbing the moment. “Your daughter called me.”  

 

“She called you, Timothy. She said hello.”Her voice broke with emotion. “Oh my God, my daughter said something, she spoke…”  

 

A slow smile spread across his face. “This is a new beginning. God is set to do a new thing. And it has started already. Your miracle is here.”  

 

“Oh my God, I’m so happy.” Her voice wavered between laughter and tears. “Timothy, she called you.”  

 

Timothy chuckled. “Even your daughter knows I’m the one to call.”

 

Amarachi groaned. “Timothy.” 

 

“What? I’m just saying.”  

 

Amarachi let out a breath. “Actually… I was on YouTube, listening to your song. It was after you finished that I gave the phone to Ziora to watch cartoons. But instead of watching, she called you.”  

 

Timothy felt something stir deep in his spirit. “I don’t believe in coincidences. That was divine orchestration.” 

 

A pause. Then Amarachi whispered, “God, you sing so well. That song… it was for me.”  

 

Timothy smiled. “I agree. Because it was one of your blog messages that inspired me to write it. So yes, maybe it was for you. But now, the world can benefit too. We’re officially releasing the song first thing next year.” 

 

Amarachi hesitated. “So why did you play it tonight? Not that I’m complaining, but I’m sure people will wonder.”

 

He let out a short laugh. “Because I needed to take my mind off you. And God was trying to help me, so he said, ‘Release the sound.’ And I did.” 

 

Silence stretched between them. Then, in a voice so soft he barely heard it, she asked, “Timothy… Do you really think there could be a future for us?”  

 

Timothy didn’t hesitate. “I don’t think. I know.” 

 

Another pause. Then Amarachi sighed. “Okay, my sister is calling me. I have to go.” 

 

Timothy chuckled. “That’s a lie. Your sister is not calling you. You just don’t have an answer for me yet. And that is fine.” 

 

She exhaled. “I’m sorry.”  

 

“Don’t be. Go to bed. But please, if anything changes about your trip, call me. Whatever time it is, I’ll be waiting.” 

 

“Thank you, Timothy.” 

 

He smiled. “Goodnight, Amarachi.” 

 

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

Amarachi held Ziora close, stepping out of the small, cramped room she was meant to share with Ada and another cousin for the night. The air outside was cooler now, the once-bubbling compound finally settling into a hush. A few people were still scattered around—some deep in quiet conversation, others simply sitting in the dim glow of lanterns.  

 

She inhaled deeply, as the night air filled her lungs, and then she exhaled, her lips moving in whispered gratitude.  

 

“Thank you, Lord.”  

 

She took another step forward, cradling Ziora as she rocked her gently.  

 

“Thank you, Lord, for your faithfulness. Thank you for the little signs. Thank you for tonight. Thank you for the encounter. Thank you for being determined to change my life. Thank you for making me attractive to a man like Timothy. Thank you, Lord, for everything. I am grateful.”  

 

Her heart swelled, and she closed her eyes, feeling a deep pull within her spirit.  

 

“Lord, I am done doubting You. For every time and every season, I am determined to be Yours now. Please forgive me of my sins and unrighteousness. Please forgive me for being a doubting Demas and take me back. Help me to come into the full knowledge of the risen Christ. Oh, Lord, help me. Oh, Lord, help me.”  

 

Tears welled up in her eyes as she clutched Ziora tighter.  

 

“In Jesus’ name, Amen.”  

 

When she opened her eyes, there was a stillness in her heart, a certainty she hadn’t felt in years.  

 

She knew it.  

 

It was time for a new beginning.  

 

She wasn’t going to the village.  

 

She was going home.  

 

Still holding Ziora, she pulled out her phone, typed a message, and sent it to Timothy before she could overthink it.  

 

I have decided to just take an Uber and go home. Regardless of the situation, I can’t risk Ziora witnessing a crisis. That’s my final decision. 

 

She stared at the screen for a second before locking the phone. A deep sense of peace settled over her.  

 

For the first time in a long time, she knew—she was exactly where she needed to be.

 

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

Timothy was lying in bed, scrolling absentmindedly through his phone when Amarachi’s text popped up.  

 

His heart kicked into gear.  

 

Without a second thought, he grabbed his keys and typed back.  

 

Don’t call Uber. I’m coming to get you.  

 

A few seconds later, his phone vibrated with her response.  

 

No, that’s not necessary. It’s already late. It’s almost Christmas. It’s already 11:30. 

 

Timothy exhaled, rubbing his temple. She was right. At this time, traffic would be unpredictable.

 

Okay, yeah, you’re right. There may be traffic. Take an Uber, but take it to this address. 

 

He quickly typed out a location and sent it.  

 

A few dots appeared, then her reply came through.  

 

Amarachi – Where is this? I’m going home. 

 

Timothy – No, I don’t recommend that. I don’t want you to go home.  

 

He paused before adding,  

 

You saw the state we left those people in. You now have bloggers tracking every move. I just… Let’s figure out something first. Please, just come to this address. You’ll be fine there.

 

A moment passed. Then, her message lit up the screen.  

 

Timothy… Mister Take Charge.  

 

He smiled, waiting for her next words.  

 

Amarachi – Alright, no problem. I’ll take my Uber there.

 

Timothy – Thank you for agreeing so easily.

 

Her reply came instantly.  

 

Amarachi: I’m tired of figuring everything out on my own. If someone else wants to figure it out for me, I don’t mind. 

 

Timothy grinned, shaking his head.  

 

Timothy: I’ve got you. 

 

And with that, he grabbed his keys, slipped on his shoes, and stepped out of the house.

 

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

The ride was smooth. Too smooth. It was almost as if fate was making way for what was about to happen. By the time the Uber pulled up to the gate of the address Timothy had sent her, he simply told the security guard to let them in, and the driver drove into the compound without hassle.  

 

Amarachi stepped out first, shifting Ziora’s weight in her arms. The little girl was deep in sleep, her tiny head resting against her mother’s shoulder.  

 

Timothy stepped out next, walked over to the driver’s side, and took his account details to pay for the fare.  

 

“You really didn’t have to,” Amarachi murmured, watching as he made the transfer.  

 

Timothy gave her a small, knowing smile, the kind that needed no words.  

 

She adjusted Ziora in her arms while Timothy grabbed their luggage from the trunk.  

 

As they walked towards the house, she finally took a moment to really look around. The place was a terrace-style home, quiet and tucked into its own compound, with warm light spilling from the windows. It felt safe. Peaceful.  

 

She frowned slightly. “Whose place is this?”  

 

Timothy pulled out a key from his pocket and opened the door. “I bought it last year,” he said casually. “It’s my personal retreat space. Whenever I need to be away from the house, to pray, to reset… I come here.”  

 

She raised a brow. “So, this is like… a holy ground?”  

 

Timothy chuckled as he stepped inside, setting the bags down. “Not exactly. Sometimes, when I invite a guest minister from outside the country, instead of putting them in a hotel, I let them stay here. We pray, we strategise, we make key decisions.”  

 

Amarachi paused in the doorway, still holding Ziora, and stared at him.  

 

“And… you brought me here?”  

 

Timothy sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “To be honest, I wasn’t even thinking about it at first. You were supposed to travel, remember? But when you told me you weren’t going again, I knew you needed somewhere safe to stay.”  

 

Her voice softened. “And you brought me here. A place reserved for men and women of God. Special people.”  

 

Timothy held her gaze. “There’s no one more special than you.”  

 

Her breath caught. She wanted to argue. To say she wasn’t worthy. That she didn’t belong in a place like this. But instead, she swallowed back the lump in her throat and stepped inside.  

 

Timothy gently took Ziora from her arms and carried the child into the master bedroom, laying her carefully on the bed. Amarachi followed behind him, standing by the door, watching the scene unfold.  

 

When he turned back to her, she was already shaking her head. “Timothy… do you even know what you’re asking for?”  

 

He stepped closer. “What do you mean?”  

 

She inhaled sharply. “Do you know how complicated my life is? Do you know the kind of past I have? The kind of—”  

 

“Amarachi,” he interrupted, his voice firm yet gentle, “I don’t care about your past. I care about your future. And I want to be in it.”  

 

Her lips parted slightly. “Okay.”  

 

Timothy blinked. “Okay… what?”  

 

She exhaled. “Okay, be in it. Come back to my life. Be my man. Come back.”  

 

A tear slipped down her cheek, followed by another. Before she could wipe them away, Timothy reached out, brushing them off with his thumb.  

 

“This is a serious commitment,” he murmured. “I’m asking you to be my girlfriend, to walk with me… to let me court you towards something bigger.”  

 

She tilted her head. “Something bigger like what?”  

 

He smiled. “Something bigger like marriage.”  

 

A long silence stretched between them.  

 

Finally, she nodded. “This is serious for me. I’m tired of fighting it. I love you, Timothy. Always have, always will.”  

 

Timothy let out a deep breath, like he had been holding it in for years. “Oh, Amarachi.”  

 

He placed a soft kiss on her forehead, then pulled her into his arms. Holding her close, breathing her in.  

 

After a moment, he leaned back. “Have you eaten?”  

 

She chuckled, wiping her face. “We ate something at my parents’ place.”  

 

“Good,” he said. “Tomorrow, I’ll send food over. But for now, I need to go.”  

 

Her smile faded slightly. “So soon?”  

 

He cupped her cheek. “Yes, baby. Merry Christmas.”  

 

Her eyes widened as she glanced at the clock. “Oh my God, it’s almost 1 AM.”  

 

He nodded. “It’s Christmas Day. And I don’t want my mum to be anxious. If she notices I’m not at home, she’ll be worried.”  

 

She smirked. “But you spent the night at my house the other day.”  

 

He laughed. “That was different. I was on an assignment. Now, more than ever before, we have to be careful.”  

 

She gave him a teasing look. “You haven’t changed.”  

 

“Oh, I’ve changed,” he countered. “Right now, I’m feeling things I didn’t used to feel before.” He let out a low chuckle. “The physical things. Ever since I saw you again, I’ve been feeling the physical things. So I am fleeing; for now.”  

 

She laughed, shaking her head. “They don’t make them like you anymore. You’re unique.”  

 

Timothy grinned. “On the contrary, there are many brothers like me. The sisters just aren’t looking in the right places.”  

 

She sighed contentedly. “I’m just grateful God found you for me again.”  

 

He nodded. “Yes, God did.” He chuckled. “And I guess I owe Tari and Maryann a very expensive Christmas gift for being the vessels.”  

 

She laughed. As they walked toward the door, Amarachi hesitated. “You know Maryann likes you, right?”  

 

Timothy shrugged. “Yeah. Like a brother.”  

 

She lifted a brow. “If you say so.”  

 

He gave her a knowing smile. “It doesn’t matter. You’re the only one for me.”  

 

She walked him to his car. He opened the door, turning to her one last time.  

 

“Merry Christmas, Amarachi.”  

 

She smiled softly. “Merry Christmas, Timothy.”  

 

And with that, he drove away, leaving behind the night that changed everything.

 

Author’s Note 

 

Dear Reader,  

 

Thank you for embarking on this journey with me through Rebirth: A Journey Through Time. Writing this story has been an experience of its own, a reminder that Jesus is real, and Christianity is not just a cultural identity or a set of inherited beliefs.  

 

Many people grow up in the faith because it was handed down to them, or because it feels right to identify as Christian. But there is so much more. Faith is not just something we inherit, it’s something we must experience for ourselves. It’s not about routine, tradition, or obligation. It’s about a relationship.  

 

Amarachi’s journey is a reminder that Christianity is real. The encounters with Jesus—whether in the flesh, in a dream, or in the everyday moments of life—are real. But you don’t have to wait for an extraordinary encounter. You can create the atmosphere for one.  

 

Jesus is always speaking, always present. All it takes is a willing heart, a simple prayer, an open conversation with Him. Just talk to Him. You don’t have to use perfect words. Just start. Ask Him to reveal Himself to you. He will answer.  

 

As you close this book, I encourage you to take that step. Create your own encounter. Find a quiet place, call His name, and listen.  

 

I would love to hear from you! Your thoughts, reflections, and testimonies mean so much. Please drop your feedback, your words encourage and inspire.  

 

Support the Mission. 

This book, like many faith-based projects, is a labour of love. From writing, editing, graphics design, website management and production, so much effort goes into making this possible. If you feel led to support and offset some of the operational costs, you can send your donation to:  

 

Providus Bank Account: Oaks of Righteousness (1305932519)  

 

Every gift, no matter the size, helps in bringing more stories like this to life. Thank you for being part of this journey.  

 

With Love,  

Bolanle O. Jenrola.