Episode 6

Amarachi sighed in relief as she finished tidying up the kitchen. Ziora sat at the table, a small bowl of oatmeal and akara in front of her. The little girl was eating slowly, peeling bits of akara apart and nibbling on them. 

 

Yemisi perched on a stool nearby, clapping her hands in amazement. “Amarachi, you are a superstar! The last time I saw this girl, six months ago, she wasn’t even feeding herself. How did you do it?”

 

Amarachi smiled faintly, wiping her hands with a towel. “It’s a lot of work, Yemisi. Honestly, she was messing up everywhere at first, but we kept at it. Now, she’s coordinated herself well. Even potty training… well, sort of.”

 

Yemisi raised her eyebrows. “Potty training? For a child who isn’t talking? How did you manage that?”

 

Amarachi chuckled lightly. “I don’t know if I’d call it potty training exactly, but I’ve put her on a routine. I take her to the toilet at specific times, and she pees then. Outside of those times, she rarely pees. If I see her holding her pants, I know it’s time, and I rush her there. That’s how we’ve been doing it.”

 

Yemisi shook her head in admiration. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Amarachi. You’re beating yourself down, but you’re a superwoman. Raising a child like this on your own is no small feat. Be proud of yourself!”

 

Amarachi smiled faintly, though her heart still felt heavy. Just then, her phone buzzed on the counter. She picked it up and read the message. 

 

Yemisi leaned closer. “Who’s that?” 

 

Amarachi handed her the phone without a word. Yemisi read the text aloud:  

“Amarachi, I just wanted to apologise if I came on too strong earlier. I don’t want to overwhelm you, and I respect where you are in your life. Take care of yourself.” 

 

Yemisi rolled her eyes dramatically. “Ah, I don’t like men like this. Wasn’t he the one sounding all lovey-dovey on the phone not too long ago? Now he’s blowing hot and cold. What’s all this? He should make up his mind abeg!”

 

Amarachi shook her head. “No, Yemisi. Don’t say that. Timothy isn’t like that at all. I think he’s just trying to respect my boundaries. Yes, he was moving too fast, but that’s Timothy for you. He’s… different. His love is unique, very different from how most men like women these days. I understand him.”

 

Yemisi smirked at her. “Oh, really? Explain how.”

 

Amarachi sighed. “I know him so well. Seeing me again after all these years must have stirred up a lot for him. He told me he hasn’t had a girlfriend since then, and I believe him. But… honestly, I prefer things this way. It’s calmer, less complicated. I don’t want to read the wrong meaning into things. I can’t afford to hope for something that can’t happen.”

 

Yemisi frowned. “And why can’t it happen? Why can’t you have him?”

 

Amarachi’s expression darkened. “Because I’ve ruined my life, Yemisi. I’ve made mistakes. I’m not the kind of woman Timothy can be with. Even if there was a chance, I wouldn’t take it. I need to focus on my faith. I have questions—big questions. And I can’t be thinking about someone like him while I’m trying to find answers.”

 

Yemisi tilted her head. “What kind of questions?”

 

Amarachi hesitated, then confessed. “Questions like… who created God? The Bible tells us ‘In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.’ But what happened before the beginning? And the Bible… How do we even know who wrote it? They said it’s the apostles and Moses, and David, and the prophets, but how do we verify? How do we know it’s real? All these things are messing with my head, Yemisi. I can’t explain it, but I feel lost. To be with a man like Timothy, I have to be grounded in my faith, and I’m not there yet.”

 

Yemisi stared at her in disbelief. “Wow. That’s deep, Amarachi. But who are you talking to about all this? Your pastor?”

 

Amarachi shook her head. “No. Honestly, I don’t trust my pastor to answer these questions. Timothy is the only one I know who can help me.”

 

Yemisi’s eyes widened. “Wait. Timothy? Are you serious?”

 

Amarachi hesitated, then unlocked her phone and showed her Timothy’s blog. “I commented anonymously on his blog. He doesn’t know it’s me. I asked him some of my questions, and he responded. Let me see if he has replied again.”

 

Yemisi burst out laughing. “You’re unbelievable! The same man you’re trying to avoid is the one mentoring you on your Christian faith? Amarachi, you’re playing with fire!”

 

Amarachi smiled faintly. “If there’s anyone I trust about Christianity, it’s Timothy. He introduced me to a kind of faith that felt real. I don’t want to ask anyone else. Not even my pastor.”

 

Yemisi shook her head, amused. “You’re a case, Amarachi. A real case.”

 

Just then, Ziora tugged at Amarachi’s dress. “You’re hungry again?” Amarachi asked, scooping her up. Yemisi watched them fondly, then teased, “You know, Ziora might end up being the one to bring you and Timothy together. Did you remember how he was carrying her in the picture on the blog? So protective.”

 

Amarachi rolled her eyes. “Please, Yemisi. Let’s not start that today.”

 

They both laughed, but as Amarachi refreshed Timothy’s blog, her heart raced. There was a new response from him. She read it silently, everything he said about faith and knowing God by building a relationship still didn’t feel like he had the right answer to her question. It felt abstract, because she still didn’t know how to build a relationship with a spirit; a God that she cannot see.

 

She typed her reply:  

“Thank you for your response. But this faith thing still feels abstract to me. How do we know it’s real? How do we know the Bible isn’t just a collection of myths? I’m confused. Please help me understand.”

 

She hit send and sighed. Yemisi smirked. ‘You’re playing with fire.”

 

Amarachi didn’t respond, but deep down, she knew Yemisi was right. 

 

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

Twelve Years Ago

 

The bustling streets of Yaba hummed with life as Timothy stood in Aunty Janet’s store, helping her rearrange shoes and bags. The shop smelled of leather and faint perfume, and sunlight streamed through the glass doors, making everything inside seem livelier. Aunty Janet stood behind the counter, her neatly ironed blouse tucked into a pencil skirt, giving her a poised and professional air despite the casual atmosphere.

 

“Ah, Timothy, God bless you!” she said, smiling broadly. “If not for you, see how these boys would scatter this store instead of arranging it properly. God bless your mother for having you.”

 

Timothy grinned as he stacked a row of shoes neatly on the shelf. “Aunty Janet, I’m your plug now. Once you have new stock, just call me. I’ll always come here.”

 

She laughed, shaking her head. “You this boy. Timothy, tell me something. How did you get over your shyness? I still remember when you used to hide behind your mother whenever we visited.”

 

Timothy chuckled softly. “It’s Jesus, Aunty. He makes all the difference. As soon as I gave my life to Christ, I became a new man. I realised that hiding myself didn’t serve the Master. I had to step out and be bold.”

 

“Ah, is it that simple?” Aunty Janet asked, intrigued.

 

“Yes, now,” Timothy said, his voice steady. “Just like Peter and John in the Bible. Remember in the book of Acts? As soon as they received the Holy Spirit, those timid, uneducated men became bold and transformed. Now, me, with my education and the Holy Spirit, I can’t be the shyest person in the room anymore. God has given me a purpose, and boldness is part of the package.”

 

Aunty Janet nodded slowly, her admiration evident. “Ah, Timothy, I just want my son to be like you. You’ve really changed. God has done well for you.”

 

She paused, squinting at him. “Wait, Timothy, hope you don’t have exams o! I don’t want to be distracting you when you’re supposed to be reading.”

 

Timothy smiled. “No exam, Aunty. WAEC has not started, but I have Jamb Exams next Saturday.”

 

“Next Saturday?” Aunty Janet clapped her hands. “You should be reading! That exam is not beans, o.”

 

Timothy laughed. “Aunty, it’s not the reading I do today that will make me pass. I’ve been reading since. This break is good for me.”

 

She sighed but smiled indulgently. “You this boy. Okay, if you say so.”

 

Timothy picked up a shoe from the rack and studied it. “This one doesn’t have a size on it, but it looks like a 38.”

 

Aunty Janet squinted at it, then laughed. “You’ve been coming here long enough. Now you’re an expert, abi? You’re right—it’s a 38. Look inside the upper strap; you’ll see it.”

 

Timothy checked and nodded. “Ah, yes, it’s there.”

 

“How did you know it’s a 38 just by looking?”

 

“My girlfriend’s size is 38,” Timothy replied with a shy smile.

 

Aunty Janet’s eyes widened, and she gasped dramatically. “Girlfriend? Timothy! You, the pastor of the family? You, that I tell my son to emulate because you’re so holy. You have a girlfriend?”

 

Timothy laughed. “Aunty, it’s not what you think. We’re not doing anything. She’s more like my best friend than my girlfriend. I just don’t want to lose her. And, honestly, she’s the woman I want to marry.”

 

“Marry?” Aunty Janet placed a hand on her hip. “Timothy, you’re too young to know who you’ll spend the rest of your life with.”

 

“Aunty, I can feel it in my spirit. I love her,” Timothy said earnestly.

 

“Love? What do you even know about love, eh?” Aunty Janet teased. “This boy that used to run from visitors is now talking about love. Timothy, don’t let this small boldness you’ve developed take you to the wrong place.”

 

Timothy smiled. “She’s not just anybody, Aunty. She’s smart, kind, and beautiful. She’s the one, I promise you.”

 

“No wonder you know her shoe size by heart,” Aunty Janet said with a chuckle. “You’ve crammed her leg size, eh?”

 

Timothy shook his head, still smiling. “It’s not like that. It’s just… she doesn’t have good shoes. Her parents don’t want to buy her new ones because we’re almost graduating. She’s been struggling with it, but when I saw this shoe, I thought, ‘If only I could buy it for her.’”

 

Aunty Janet paused, her teasing smile fading. “You this boy. Do you know how much it costs?”

 

“Yes,” Timothy said hesitantly. “Can I work for you after my exams for one month to pay for it? But, please, can I take it now?”

 

Aunty Janet stared at him for a long moment before shaking her head with a laugh. “Timothy, you’re something else. Take the shoe. Don’t worry about money.”

 

“How will I pay you back?” Timothy asked earnestly.

 

“You’ll pay me back in the future. When you make it big—and I know you will—don’t forget me. Don’t say it’s only Lekki or Dubai that you can shop from. Continue to be my customer.”

 

Timothy smiled widely. “Never, Aunty Janet. I can never forget you.”

 

“Better not,” she said, handing him the shoe. “And make sure you don’t fail those exams.”

 

“Yes, ma. Thank you.”

 

As Timothy left the store that evening, holding the shoes in a small bag, he felt so proud of himself, his heart full of purpose. Amarachi would love it. He was sure of it.

 

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

 

The classroom was warm that Saturday afternoon, while some rays of light flickered through the windows and dust motes floating lazily in the air. Amarachi sat near the window, her eyes distant as she stared outside, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. The math tutorial was supposed to help struggling students like her prepare for JAMB and WAEC, but today, her mind was far from equations and formulas. 

 

She sighed softly, wishing Timothy were there. His absence was glaring, a reminder that, as the best student in school, he had no need for such lessons. She missed his steady presence, his calm confidence. The way he always made everything seem possible, even mathematics.

 

“Amarachi!” the teacher’s stern voice cut through her daydream. She snapped her head back to the front of the class.

 

“Yes, sir?”

 

“Your mind is not here today. Focus!” he said, shaking his head. “The reason most of you are here, struggling with mathematics, is because your mind is never in one place. Mathematics is not that difficult if you just focus.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Amarachi mumbled, lowering her gaze.

 

The teacher clapped his hands together, commanding the attention of the noisy class. “Now, write down this assignment. I will see you all next Saturday.”

 

With that, he gathered his materials and began to leave the classroom. But as he got to the door, he turned back. “Amarachi,” he called.

 

“Yes, sir?” she replied, standing up quickly.

 

“Come and help me carry these books to the staff room.”

 

Amarachi walked briskly to the front, stacking the books carefully before following him out of the room. Behind her, the class erupted into chaos. Some students were shouting, others gossiping in small groups, while a few slipped out of the room entirely.

 

By the time Amarachi returned from the staff room, the noise had escalated. As she walked past a group of girls huddled near the back of the class, she overheard snippets of their conversation.

 

“Have you noticed Timothy lately?” one of them said. “He’s just trying to do too much. See how he’s always organising FCS (Fellowship Of Christian Students) programmes and speaking at every event.”

 

Another girl snorted. “I think it’s because they didn’t make him Head Boy. Ever since then, he’s been doing all these things to prove himself. It’s like he’s secretly pained.”

 

A third girl laughed. “But it’s too late now, abi? They can’t make him Head Boy anymore.”

 

“Have you ever heard of the best student not being made Head Boy before? It’s like a tradition, and Timothy broke it.”

 

“That’s why he’s overcompensating,” the first girl added. “And now he even has a girlfriend. Imagine.”

 

The second girl burst into laughter. “Girlfriend? That one is not a real girlfriend. I heard they’ve not even kissed. He’s just pretending to feel among, trying to be like the other boys.”

 

“And that Amarachi,” someone sneered. “The new girl—”

 

“New girl what?” Amarachi’s sharp voice interrupted them. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, her eyes blazing. The girls froze, caught off guard. “What were you saying about me?”

 

The group fell silent for a moment before one of them muttered, “We were just talking…”

 

Amarachi marched up to them, her voice firm and clear. “You people will just sit here gossiping about things you know nothing about. News flash: you can say anything about me. I really don’t care. But you cannot, and you dare not say anything about Timothy.”

 

One of the girls smirked. “Girlfriend of the year, defending her man.”

 

Amarachi glared at her. “He doesn’t need my defense. But let me tell you something, in case you don’t know. Timothy is the best student in this school, and everyone knows that.”

 

“Abeg,” another girl scoffed. “If he’s so great, why wasn’t he made Head Boy?”

 

Amarachi rolled her eyes. “Do you even know what you’re saying? If you’re so curious, go and ask our class teacher. They begged Timothy to be head boy. He turned it down because he wanted to focus on being FCS president. He said leading the Christian students and teaching them the way of the Lord was more important to him than some title.”

 

“Lie!” one of the girls snapped.

 

“Why am I even arguing with you?” Amarachi shot back. “Does any of this matter? The boy you’re here gossiping about has won the Cowbell Mathematics Competition, travelled to Abuja for national competitions, and won in the entire country. Meanwhile, we’re all here struggling with simple equations.”

 

The girls looked away, clearly uncomfortable, but Amarachi wasn’t done. “If you have time to gossip, use it to improve yourselves. Or do you want to remain in this classroom every Saturday forever?”

 

With that, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving the girls to sit in their quiet defeat. As she returned to her desk, she couldn’t help but smile to herself. She knew Timothy wouldn’t care about their words, but defending him felt good. He was her Timothy, her brilliant, kind Timothy, and she wouldn’t let anyone drag his name down.

 

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

 

The school compound was unusually quiet as the afternoon sun cast long shadows over the grounds. Amarachi walked briskly down the path toward the gate, her bag slung over her shoulder, her mind swirling with thoughts. The gossip from earlier still lingered in her head, making her stomach churn with anger. She hated how people talked about Timothy, twisting his intentions and mocking his dedication. He didn’t deserve any of it.

 

In her former school, she had been the life of the party, surrounded by friends who laughed at her jokes and hung on her every word. But here, Timothy had become her world. She didn’t need anyone else. He was unlike anyone she had ever met—too spiritual, maybe even too serious. But he was good, and that goodness drew her in like nothing else. Still, sometimes she wondered: How could she get him to tone it down just a little? It wasn’t bad to be Christian, everyone was, but Timothy was taking it to a whole other level. And that made people think they could take advantage of him.

 

As if her thoughts had conjured him, Timothy appeared at the gate. The sight of him made her heart leap, and she broke into a smile. 

 

“Timothy!” she called, nearly running toward him. 

 

He smiled back but, true to form, deflected her attempted hug by gently holding her hand instead. 

 

Amarachi frowned. “Timothy, you’re my boyfriend. I don’t get it. Why can’t I hug you? I mean, I’m happy to see you!”

 

Timothy chuckled softly. “Amarachi, are you not happy to see me?”

 

“I just said I’m happy to see you!” she retorted. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I have a gift for you,” he said, his voice warm with excitement.

 

“A gift? Really?” Her curiosity piqued as he motioned for her to follow him. They began walking toward the chapel, her mind racing with guesses. 

 

“What’s the gift? Tell me!” she pressed.

 

“You’ll have to guess,” he teased.

 

“A book?” she guessed, wrinkling her nose.

 

Timothy laughed. “Wow. Is that how you see me? Just a boring guy who only gives books?”

 

“Okay, food then!” she tried again.

 

“Nope,” he said, shaking his head. By the time they got to the chapel, she had exhausted her guesses. 

 

“Fine, I give up,” she said as they reached the wooden bench under the shade of a tree.

 

“Sit,” Timothy instructed, gesturing to the bench. She complied, her curiosity growing. Then, to her shock, he knelt down in front of her.

 

Her eyes widened. “No, no, no. Don’t propose! I’m not ready to commit!”

 

Timothy blinked at her, confused. “Commit to what?”

 

She pointed at him. “Is the gift a ring? Are you going to ask me to marry you?”

 

Timothy burst out laughing. “No, Amarachi, but my heart is broken. So you mean if I were asking you to marry me now, you wouldn’t agree?”

 

Amarachi’s cheeks flushed. “We’re young, Timothy. We don’t even know what we want in life yet.”

 

He sighed, standing up and sitting beside her on the bench. “Wait. Amarachi, are you saying that at some point, you think we’ll break up and end up with other people?”

 

“I’m not saying that!” she said quickly. “I’m just saying… we’re young. By the time we get to university, who knows what might happen? Things could change.”

 

“Nothing will change,” Timothy said firmly. “We’re going to the same university. You’re going to Unilag, and so am I. We’ll stay close.”

 

“Yes, but don’t propose now,” she insisted. 

 

Timothy shook his head. “I wasn’t proposing. But still, you’ve broken my heart. It’s clear you’re not as serious about us as I am. I’m not thinking about anyone else, but you clearly are.”

 

Amarachi reached for his hand. “Timothy, I’m not thinking about other people. I just think it’s too early to talk about marriage.”

 

Timothy bent down without another word and began to untie her worn-out school shoe. 

 

“Hey, what are you doing?” Amarachi asked, startled.

 

Timothy reached into his bag and pulled out a pair of brand new shoes. “Trying these on you,” he said simply, slipping them onto her feet. 

 

Amarachi’s eyes lit up as she stared at the sandals. “Oh my God! Oh my God, Timothy, how did you get money for this? They’re beautiful!”

 

Timothy smiled shyly. “I made a deal with my aunty. Found a way.”

 

“You’re the best guy in the whole world!” she exclaimed.

 

“But yet,” Timothy said, his voice tinged with playful sadness, “you don’t want to marry me.”

 

Amarachi laughed, nudging him gently. “Why are you like this? We’re going to Unilag together, and we’ll continue our relationship there. I just don’t want to complicate things now by talking about marriage. That’s all.”

 

Timothy looked into her eyes, searching for something. “Amarachi, I don’t know what I’m doing with you if I can’t think about marriage. I’m a focused guy. I want to know that I already have the woman for me and start building. Is that too much to ask?”

 

She held his gaze and smiled softly. “It’s not too much to ask. To be honest, I don’t see any other man in my future. You’re the only one who can handle me.”

 

Timothy laughed, his somber mood breaking. “Handle you? Ah, Amarachi, you’re one of a kind.”

 

They both laughed then, the tension easing as their conversation fizzled out. For now, they had each other, and that was enough.

 

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

 

Back To Present

 

Timothy paced the length of his room, the air thick with tension. His producer had agreed to move the studio session to tomorrow, understanding Timothy’s insistence on wrapping up Encounter before the year ended. The recording would mark a significant milestone, and Timothy wanted the song’s audio to be perfect. But today, he couldn’t focus. His thoughts were cluttered, emotions pulling him in multiple directions.  

 

Dropping onto his knees, Timothy began to speak in tongues. His voice filled the room as he prayed, hands lifted, his face etched with the internal conflict.  

 

For thirty minutes, his prayers were a steady hum of desperation and surrender. Then he switched to English. “Holy Spirit, I need your help with Amarachi… Lord, you know how I’ve never been able to help myself when it comes to her. I don’t want to move emotionally; I don’t want to make mistakes. I already want to see her again, but I know I’m moving too fast. Help me to focus on the assignment You’ve given me. “ 

 

“This song, Encounter, it’s not just a melody, Lord. It’s a message. I want it to carry heavenly sounds that will touch people, that will transform lives. Lord, keep me in Your will. Let me not be distracted. Kill my will if that’s what it takes to stay aligned with Yours.”  

 

As he prayed, a verse dropped into his heart:  

“To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.”  

 

Timothy paused, his hands resting on his knees. “A time for everything…” he muttered, moving to the table and sitting in his chair. “What season am I in, Lord? This is confusing. What am I supposed to do right now?”  

 

Seeking clarity and not finding it, he opened his laptop to distract himself. His blog notifications were full. Several people had commented on his last post, but one stood out—Anonymous had responded again.  

 

Timothy read the comment:  

Thank you for your response. But this faith thing still feels abstract to me. How do we know it’s real? How do we know the Bible isn’t just a collection of myths? I’m confused. Please help me understand.

 

Timothy sighed, resting his hand on the edge of the laptop. “This person is obviously struggling,” he said aloud. “Holy Spirit, give me the words to help them. I don’t know who this is, but You do.”  

 

He placed his hands on the keyboard and began typing:  

“Thank you for asking these questions. These questions are valid, and the fact that you’re asking them is not a reason to worry but a reason to be joyful. Even the Bible encourages us to question all things until we gain clarity.  

 

“But faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. A relationship with God cannot exist without faith, and faith is often beyond human understanding. To navigate this relationship, you need more than answers—you need an encounter with Him.  

 

I encourage you to find a Bible-believing church and immerse yourself in Bible study and discipleship. There, you’ll find guidance and clarity. I pray you experience the light of Christ. Have a nice day.”

 

Satisfied with his response, he hit send and leaned back in his chair. Then, bowing his head, he began to pray again, this time for the commenter.  

 

“Lord, Your word says, ‘Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.’ I don’t know this man or woman, but I know You have destined them for Your light. Holy Spirit, give them an encounter that will answer their deepest questions and settle their doubts. Let them find peace in You.”  

 

The prayer continued for several minutes, and eventually, Timothy dozed off in his chair, head resting on his folded arms.  

 

When he woke up, the clock on the wall read 3:00 p.m. Timothy rubbed his eyes, feeling restless. He had no desire to sing or work on music. Standing up, he stretched and walked to the window, looking out at the cityscape.  

 

“I need a change of scenery,” he muttered, picking up his phone.  

 

He dialled his driver. “Please meet me downstairs in ten minutes. We’re going to Yaba—to Aunty Janet’s shop.”  

 

He grabbed his face cap and sunglasses, ready to step out.  

 

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

 

Timothy walked into the store quietly, adjusting his face cap and sunglasses as he stepped inside. The lively chatter of customers and shop assistants filled the air, accompanied by the occasional rustling of fabric and the hum of a sewing machine in the corner. 

 

Aunty Janet looked up from the rack she was rearranging and immediately broke into a wide grin. “Ah, Timothy! My superstar nephew! Why didn’t you call me to tell me you needed things, I could have come to you.”  

 

Timothy chuckled. “I didn’t want to stress you. And I didn’t need much, just wanted to see what you have.”  

 

“Ah,” she teased. “You should have told me! Those boys outside, I hope they didn’t harass you. They can be rough sometimes.”  

 

Timothy smiled. “No, I don’t think they noticed me. The cap and glasses did their job.”  

 

Aunty Janet clapped her hands in delight. “Ah, thank God. But me, I can never miss your face sha, no matter how you disguise. Boys! Bring a chair for him!”  

 

Timothy raised a hand, shaking his head. “Aunty, I’m not a guest. I just came to pick up a few things, that’s all.”  

 

Aunty Janet ignored him. “Celebrity life has chosen you, Timothy. This is your season! You should start embracing it. People are watching you everywhere now!”  

 

Timothy sighed, removing his cap. “Aunty, I just want to stay in God’s will. I don’t care about being watched.”  

 

“God’s will is good. Let him continue to guide you,” Janet said, then gave him a confused look. “But tell me, what do you need? Didn’t I just pack sneakers and clothes for you last month?”  

 

Timothy hesitated, glancing at the shelves. “Maybe I’m just bored. I needed to get out of the house.”  

 

Aunty Janet’s sharp eyes narrowed. “You, bored? Something is wrong. Talk to me.”  

 

He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s complicated.”  

 

Aunty Janet motioned for him to sit. “Complicated how? Is it about that picture on Instagram? The one of you in Ajegunle holding a child? Don’t think I don’t know—I’m on Instagram now.”  

 

Timothy groaned. “Aunty, it’s not about that.”  

 

“Then what is it? Spill. You know I’m always here for you.”  

 

Timothy hesitated, then said, “It’s about my ex-girlfriend. Do you remember Amarachi? I saw her again, and I don’t know. It’s messing with my head.”  

 

Aunty Janet’s mouth fell open. “Amarachi? The same Amarachi you bought shoes for in secondary school? Wow, Timothy, I didn’t even remember you had a girlfriend!”  

 

Timothy smiled faintly. “She’s the only one I’ve ever had. And seeing her again brought back a lot of feelings I thought I had buried.”  

 

Aunty Janet folded her arms. “Feelings? After all these years? What exactly are you feeling?”  

 

Timothy sighed. “I don’t know. I just want her to be in my life again. But it’s complicated. She has a child now, and…”  

 

Aunty Janet cut him off. “She has a child? Timothy! You’re not a boy anymore. You’re a man with a bright future. This sounds too complicated. And for what?”  

 

Timothy shrugged, his eyes scanning the store. “It’s not that simple, Aunty. I’ve forgiven her, but I hurt, knowing that we wasted years being apart. I wish her child belonged to me. I wish she was my wife.  Seeing her reminded me of how much I cared for her. I’ve never stopped.”  

 

Aunty Janet shook her head, motioning for her boys. “Boys, bring the sneakers. Let’s see what we have.”  

 

The boys brought out a pair of sleek men’s sneakers. Timothy tried them on and nodded in approval. “These are nice,” he said.  

 

But his eyes lingered on a pair of women’s sneakers nearby. Janet caught the look immediately. “Timothy, what are you looking at? That’s for women!”  

 

Timothy pointed. “What size is that?”  

 

“Size 38,” one of the boys answered.  

 

Timothy nodded. “Do you have it in size 39? Just in case.”  

 

Aunty Janet gasped, her hands flying to her hips. “Wait, wait, wait. Are you buying this for her? Timothy, are you seriously buying her sneakers? Don’t tell me you’re planning to start sending her gifts!”  

 

Timothy smiled faintly. “It’s just a Christmas gift, Aunty. Nothing serious. Can I have a pair for a four year-old girl? Same colour, same brand.”  

 

Aunty Janet wasn’t convinced. “Nothing serious, but you’re buying matching sneakers for her and her child? Timothy! Your mother must not hear of this!”  

 

Timothy laughed lightly. “Aunty, please don’t start.”  

 

Aunty Janet motioned to the boys again. “Bring me some children’s sizes. We need to find something that will be a perfect fit for a…”  

 

Timothy sighed. “Aunty, just pick something nice. Even if it’s slightly big, she’ll grow into it.”  

 

Aunty Janet shook her head. “Timothy, I just hope you know what you’re doing.”  

 

Timothy glanced at the sneakers in his hands, his smile fading slightly. “Me too, Aunty. Me too.” 

 

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Faith cannot be explained or thought. It must be encountered. Take a pause and ask yourself – “Why do I really believe in Jesus?” If your answer is not hinged on faith, an evidence that cannot be seen, then you need to soak, reflect, research and PRAY! Dear friend, Rebirth is more than a love story but a journey through a time before time to find HIM who created time.

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