Chapter Nine

A week passed, and nothing happened.

That, more than anything else, was what Busayo was grateful for.

No headlines or grainy photographs circulating on blogs hungry for scandal. The moment outside her office, the one she had replayed in her mind too many times, had remained exactly what it was: a private moment.

She decided it must have been a curious passerby who had taken the photograph. Perhaps a fellow Christian who recognised Apostle Michael and felt a quiet thrill at witnessing something that felt personal, almost intimate. Unlike the noisy devotion reserved for celebrities, the admiration of church folk was usually restrained, respectful. People looked, noticed, and sometimes moved on. Or maybe Michael prayed against it.

It was still weird thinking of him as Michael, but the Apostle was determined to simply just be a man to her.

In the week that followed, clarity arrived not as revelation, but as peace. It sat gently within her. The kind of peace that did not demand interpretation. Busayo had learned, over time, that this was how God often spoke to her.

Michael had been busy. She knew this without being told. The crusade preparations had taken over his days, and she had not seen him again since that night. Yet, somehow, his absence did not feel like distance. He checked in, remembered the things she told him, and asked questions that showed he was listening even when he was not physically present.

Unplanned, she had also sort of joined the crusade planning. At the workers’ meeting last week, she had drifted, almost accidentally, into the children’s committee session. She had no grand intention to be seriously involved, so she sat quietly at the back, but Agnes, one of the Australian delegates, had welcomed her with an easy warmth, speaking about children as though they were not an afterthought, but the heart of the gathering.

Busayo discovered that she liked this. The idea that the children would not simply be managed while their parents listened to sermons, but truly given an experience. In less than a week, she attended four meetings without realising when participation had turned into commitment.

Agnes, with her gentle humour and thoughtful questions, became a friend quickly, one of those friendships that felt as though it had been waiting for the right moment to arrive.

On this particular evening, Busayo sat beside Gloria in the car as they drove into the church compound for yet another meeting. The air was thick with voices and movement, workers arriving in groups, chairs being arranged, people greeting one another with the familiarity of shared purpose.

Gloria laughed as she parked.

“You’re not even a member here yet, and you’re already a worker.”

Busayo smiled, amused by the truth of it.

They joined the larger group, settling into their seats for the general meeting before the teams broke off into units. Gloria, ever efficient, was already being called aside for protocol matters.

It was then Apostle Michael walked in.

There was a ripple of attention, subtle but undeniable. He greeted the room easily, standing before them not with the weight of authority alone, but with something gentler. He spoke about service, sacrifice, discomfort, and the kind of work that did not always come with convenience or applause, especially given the amount of meetings and work each person had to do for the success of the event.

“Take one for the team,” he said simply.

Busayo listened attentively, until she felt it, that quiet shift. She looked up just as his eyes found hers.

He paused.

Only for a moment. A fraction of a second that might have meant nothing to anyone else. Then he smiled, small and unguarded, before continuing as though nothing had happened.

When the meeting ended and people began to disperse, her phone vibrated in her hand.

She glanced at the screen.

Michael:

So this is how you keep coming around and never visit me. Will you see me when this is over? Come to my office.

She hesitated, then typed carefully.

Busayo:

I’m sure your schedule is packed.

The reply came almost immediately.

Michael:

Never too packed for you.

She read the message twice before slipping her phone back into her bag, her heart doing that quiet, giddy thing it had been doing more often lately, then she went to sit down at the children leaders department.

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

As soon as the Apostle left, Agnes moved on briskly, back to the agenda of the day, her pen tapping lightly against the notebook as she spoke.

“We’ll need structure,” she said. “Clear structure.”

She began to assign roles. Someone would oversee welfare. Another would handle painting and creative expression. Someone else would be responsible for cleanliness, not just sweeping floors, but maintaining order throughout the program. We even need a lead for potty time, because toddlers, Agnes said simply, required dignity too.

Busayo listened quietly, nodding where necessary, hands folded in her lap. She was content to remain exactly where she was, unnoticed, and possibly join one of the sub teams.

Then Agnes paused.

“We also need a team lead,” she said.

The room shifted slightly. Chairs creaked. A few people straightened.

Agnes lifted her eyes and looked directly at Busayo.

“Busayo.”

For a moment, Busayo was certain she had misheard.

“I’d like you to coordinate every one,” Agnes continued. “You’ll oversee the teams, ensure alignment, and be the point of contact.”

The words landed heavily in the room.

Busayo felt her chest tighten. She opened her mouth, ready to protest, to explain that she had only joined recently, that she had come to serve, not to lead, when a voice rose from behind her.

“But we don’t even know her like that.”

A murmur followed.

“She just joined.”

“This might be too much for her.”

Busayo’s shoulders stiffened. She lowered her gaze, heat crawling up her neck.

Agnes didn’t flinch.

“How do you know it will be too much?” she asked calmly. “Let her decide.”

Another voice, sharper this time. “She hasn’t even done discipleship. How will she lead us?”

Agnes inhaled, then said softly, “Because that’s what the Lord placed in my heart.”

The room went still.

“The first day I saw her, the Lord showed me a vision.” Agnes continued, “I saw her standing before children, many children, speaking with clarity. I didn’t understand it then. I understand it now.”

Someone shifted, about to respond, but the Pastor who had been leading the unit before Agnes arrived raised her hand gently.

“Let’s calm down,” she said. “Busayo, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

Her tone was polite.

“We don’t mind you serving with us if you are interested, because we don’t move by protocol, we move by God’s instruction” she went on. “But you are new. Have you done discipleship? When did you join the church?”

Busayo swallowed.

“I haven’t,” she said quietly. “I’ve been streaming online mostly. I have not officially joined.”

There were murmurs again, sharper this time.

Agnes said nothing.

Busayo felt the weight of expectation pressing on her. She wanted to decline, to explain that she wasn’t equipped, that she didn’t know the systems, but when she tried to decline, the words wouldn’t come, till she chose courage.

“I have been discipled by the Light Assembly, and I have some experience with children from helping my Mum with her school, so I believe this assignment falls in the radar of my expertise,” she said instead, honestly.

Agnes smiled. “You will be great.”

The former unit leader nodded slowly. “Awesome,” she said. “But you’ll need to begin discipleship with our church as well .”

“That’s fine,” Busayo replied, surprised by how steady her voice sounded. The rest of the meeting went by quickly, with initiatives introduced. Agnes was definitely a maestro in children ‘s ministry.

After the meeting, the Pastor in charge of the unit  introduced herself properly.

“I am Pastor Ayodele.”

As they walked together, she said quietly, “We don’t have a problem with you leading the committee. There’s just a protocol here, that’s why we insist on discipleship.”

“I understand,” Busayo said. “I’ve done discipleship in my church before though.”

Mrs. Ayodele studied her for a moment. “Would you like to become a member here?”

Busayo hesitated, then heard herself say, “I think so.”

“Think about it properly,” Pastor Ayodele said. “And let us know. Light Assembly is also a very good church, but if you feel led to join us here, we will welcome you with open arms.”

They were still talking when a familiar presence entered the room.

“Ah.”

Busayo turned.

“Apostle.”

Pastor Ayodele moved instinctively, almost kneeling.

“Please,” he said quickly, stopping her with a raised hand. “I’ve told you not to do that.”

She smiled, embarrassed. “You’re our father.”

He shook his head, amused.

“I see you’ve met Busayo,” he said.

“Yes,” she replied. “Agnes chose her to lead the children’s unit.”

“And we were discussing discipleship,” she added carefully.

“Good,” Michael said. “I like that.”

He turned to Busayo. “You’ll do discipleship, yes?”

Busayo nodded slowly.

“And you’ll become a member,” he added, smiling slightly. “My wife can’t attend a different church from me.”

There was a beat of silence.

Mrs. Ayodele’s eyes widened.

“Wait,” she said slowly. “Your wife?”

Busayo laughed nervously.

Michael looked at her. “Busayo,” he asked, teasing, “are you my fiancée?”

She didn’t answer. She just smiled.

Pastor Ayodele gasped softly.

Michael cleared his throat, and joked. “Pastor, keep me in your prayers. She hasn’t said Yes officially.”

Pastor Ayodele whispered, half-laughing, half-awed, “No wonder Agnes refused to change her mind.”

Michael smiled. “Agnes doesn’t know.”

He paused, then added, “God chose her for us.”

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

Pastor Ayodele walked away, already absorbed in another conversation, and Michael turned instinctively toward his office, his hand lightly guiding her elbow.

She stopped.

“I’m not going to your office, Apostle.”

He paused, then turned back to her, amused. “Oh. So we’re back to Apostle now?”

She folded her arms, glancing around the hallway, suddenly conscious of how many eyes were still lingering. “I’m not calling you Michael here.”

A smile tugged at his lips, slow and indulgent. “Alright then,” he said easily. “Woman of God.”

She laughed despite herself, shaking her head. “You see? This is exactly why.”

“We can see later this evening then,” he continued, unbothered.

She hesitated. “I’m… not sure about tonight. We have a family prayer thing.”

He nodded once, already recalibrating. “Okay. Tomorrow morning then. Early.” He exhaled softly. “Tonight is packed for me too. The missionaries, the board, final crusade prep. Everything is tight now.”

She watched his face as he spoke, the quiet gravity of responsibility settling into his features, and for a moment, she felt the weight of the world he carried.

“But,” he added gently, lowering his voice, “I wanted one last unhurried moment with you.”

Her brows lifted.

“Maybe that’s when you’ll finally say yes,” he said, not teasing this time. Just hopeful.

She felt heat rise to her cheeks. “Ah, Apostle… you say these things like they’re ordinary.”

“I’m trying to help you catch up with what God has already started,” he replied, smiling.

She looked away, suddenly shy, suddenly aware that standing this close to him felt less like uncertainty and more like delay. “Okay,” she said softly. “Before someone sees us again and you start introducing me, let me behave.”

His smile widened.

“My driver will take you,” he offered.

She shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I came with Gloria.”

“Alright then.” He stepped back, respectful, and measured. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” she echoed.

He walked away then, unhurried, as though nothing significant had happened.

But she stood there for a moment longer, watching his retreating back, her heart strangely calm.

It was only then she realised the truth.

Even though she had not yet said yes, she already had.

Because resistance had given way to belonging.

And somehow, without ceremony or declaration, she had begun to understand that she was already his.

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

A few hours later

Gloria and Busayo were in the kitchen, shoulder to shoulder, moving around each other with the ease of people who had shared a space long enough to know when to step aside without being told.

They didn’t usually cook together.

Most days, Gloria prepared her meals on one side of the kitchen, Busayo on the other. Sometimes they shared, sometimes they didn’t. It was an unspoken arrangement that worked.

But today felt different.

There was laughter in the air, the soft hiss of oil heating in a pan, the rhythmic tap of a knife against the chopping board. Gloria stirred absentmindedly while Busayo talked, her words spilling out in uneven bursts, about the meetings held earlier in the day and about how strange it felt to suddenly belong somewhere she hadn’t even formally joined.

“I still can’t believe it,” Busayo said, shaking her head as she rinsed vegetables. “Is it weird that my church won’t even know I left? ”

Gloria smiled. “Honestly, it’s better this way.”

Busayo glanced at her. “How?”

“Well,” Gloria said lightly, “imagine how hard it would have been to leave, if you had already been deeply rooted there, serving every Sunday, known by everybody.”

She paused meaningfully. “Although when people eventually hear who you’re getting married to—”

Busayo turned sharply. “Married?”

Gloria laughed. “Please. Don’t do that thing where you pretend you don’t know what is going to happen.”

“I haven’t even said yes,” Busayo insisted.

“Maybe with your mouth,” Gloria replied. “But your life has already answered.”

Busayo scoffed, but there was no conviction in it.

Gloria continued, almost teasing now. “And you’re enjoying it. The suspense. The way you’re stressing a man of God you already trust.”

Busayo didn’t respond immediately.

Gloria wiped her hands and added, more softly, “Besides… I dreamt about you again last night.”

Busayo stiffened. “What kind of dream?”

“The same dream. You were in white,” Gloria said simply. “Standing next to him.”

Busayo squinted, a sudden pressure blooming behind her eyes. She reached for the counter instinctively.

“Are you okay?” Gloria asked, noticing.

Busayo pressed her fingers to her temple. “That headache again.”

“Again?” Gloria frowned. “Is it bad?”

“It never really stopped,” Busayo admitted. “It just… keeps getting worse.”

Gloria studied her for a moment, then sighed. “Go and lie down, please. Take pain killers. I’ll finish up here and bring food to you.”

Busayo didn’t argue. She nodded, grateful, and walked slowly to her room.

As she lay down, she could hear Gloria turn the music up in the kitchen, something familiar and comforting. Busayo pulled the blanket over herself, intending only to rest.

But rest didn’t come.

Instead, a chill crept into her bones. Her teeth began to chatter. Her body shook as though the room had suddenly dropped several degrees.

An hour later, Gloria came in with a small plate of rice, her face tight with concern.

“Busayo?” she called softly. “Are you alright?”

Busayo struggled to sit up.

“Come and eat,” Gloria urged. “Have you taken the drug?”

Busayo shook her head weakly. “I don’t have an appetite.”

Gloria exhaled sharply. “This isn’t normal. We need to take you to the hospital.”

“Let’s not rush,” Busayo said quickly, even as her voice trembled. “Let’s wait till morning. I’ll take the Panadol now. If I still feel like this when we wake up… then we’ll go.”

Gloria hesitated, clearly unconvinced, but nodded. “Alright. Morning.”

She adjusted the blanket around Busayo gently, who drifting in and out of sleep, wondered when exactly she had stopped fighting what her heart already knew.

Michael.

Chapter Ten

Michael was just about to leave his office when he picked up his phone to tell Busayo he was on his way, but her message came in before he could dial.

Busayo: Kindly let me take a rain check on our meeting. I’m at the hospital. I’m not feeling well.

He read it twice, frowning. Then again, slower.

“Hospital?” he whispered, his chest tightening.

He stood immediately, abandoning the open folder on his desk. The day’s schedule had been full, meetings with the media team, a brief call with the missions board, and plans to welcome the guest ministers who were arriving that evening ahead of Friday’s crusade. But all of that suddenly felt far away.

He reached for his car keys just as Cathy walked in. “Apostle, before you go,” she said cheerfully, “the delegates from our European churches have arrived. They’re already on their way from the airport. I was thinking we could host them for lunch. It’ll be a great welcome.”

Michael paused only for a second. “That’s an amazing idea, Cathy. But please let the other pastors handle it. I won’t be available for the rest of the day.”

Her brow furrowed. “Sir, I hope there’s no problem? You personally sponsored this team. You’ve been looking forward to their arrival.”

“Yes,” he said, already walking toward the door, “and I had planned to meet them after my meeting this morning. But now, something else requires my attention. I am going to the hospital.”

“What happened?” Cathy asked quickly. “Is it Mama Adesina? Did she pass?”

Michael turned, half smiling. “No, Mama is very much alive. That woman would outlive us all if she’s given the chance.”

Cathy laughed in relief. “Then what is it? She’s not even on your schedule until next week.”

He hesitated only briefly before saying, “My fiancée is in the hospital.”

Cathy froze. “Your… fiancée?”

Michael smiled faintly, adjusting his wristwatch. “Yes. She doesn’t know it yet, but she will soon be on board with the program.”

Cathy blinked, still trying to process. “Sir, I, should I come with you?”

“That won’t be necessary,” he said gently. “I’ll have Caleb drive me and stay close in case I need anything. You, on the other hand, should stay here and coordinate the lunch. Make sure the team feels welcome.”

Cathy’s lips parted, still half-stunned. “A fiancée,” she murmured, almost to herself. “This is… new. You mentioned, but…”

Michael smiled again, “God makes all things new.”

And with that, he walked briskly out of the office.

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

The Lagos sun greeted Micheal with warmth as he stepped into the compound. His car was waiting, Caleb already in the driver’s seat. He got in, leaned his head back, and exhaled deeply.

Busayo wasn’t responding to messages or picking his calls.

As the drive began, he prayed softly under his breath. “Lord, let her be fine.”

Then, as though a quiet revelation unfolded in his chest, he realized something defining. I am in love with her. This concern wasn’t pastoral. It wasn’t merely the sympathy of a spiritual father. It was personal. It was protective.

The more he embraced the truth that Busayo is his God-ordained wife, the more the thought of her being in pain unsettled him.

He whispered again, “Lord, thank you for giving me the gift of experiencing this. Loving a woman is new to me, but I find that I enjoy it. Thank you Lord.”

Caleb glanced briefly at him through the mirror. “Sir, is everything alright?”

Michael nodded slowly. “Everything’s going to be alright.”

He wasn’t sure if he was talking to Caleb or convincing himself, but the peace that followed told him heaven had already answered. Busayo was going to be fine, and she will also agree to be his.

—————————————————————————————————————

Cathy sat at her desk for a few more minutes after the Apostle left.
Her mind was still replaying his words, “My fiancée is in the hospital.”

A quiet smile tugged at her lips. So this is how it finally happens, she thought. She had prayed for years that he would find someone, a woman who could truly walk beside him.

She stood, stretched her neck gently, and picked up her phone. Across the desk, Ngozi, the new administrative assistant, looked up from her computer.

“Madam Cathy, are you alright? You’ve been smiling to yourself,” Ngozi said, teasing lightly.

Cathy smiled gently, “I’m fine, Ngozi. I just need to step out for a minute. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, ma,” Ngozi replied, and went back to typing.

Cathy left the office, her phone pressed to her ear before she even got to the corridor. She walked briskly to the restroom at the end of the hallway, the one reserved for senior staff.

Her sister’s voice came through as soon as the call connected.
“Tinu, you won’t believe what just happened,” Cathy said in a low but excited voice. “Apostle has a fiancée.”

There was a sharp pause. “Fiancée? You said he wasn’t seeing anyone!”

Cathy chuckled. “Well, he is now. And honestly, I’m happy for him. Whoever she is, I support Apostle one hundred percent. He deserves love. He’s been alone too long.”

“Wow,” Tinu said. “So, who’s the woman? Do you know her?”

“Not yet,” Cathy replied, straightening up and checking her reflection in the mirror. “But I will soon. He said she’s in the hospital right now. He left everything to go and see her.”

Tinu gasped. “Ah! Then it’s serious!”

Cathy smiled. “I am glad that he now has someone though. I feel like this will give him balance. Although I think he said the lady hasn’t said Yes, but I know it’s only a matter of time.”

Outside, the restroom door wasn’t completely sealed. Unbeknownst to Cathy, Ngozi had walked in to fix her scarf in the adjacent sink area. She froze when she heard Apostle has a fiancée.

Her brows furrowed. Fiancée? Hospital?

She didn’t move. She just stood still until Cathy ended her call and flushed the toilet to cover her exit.

As Cathy ended the call, Ngozi quietly slipped out through the other door, her heart thudding.

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

Back at her desk, Ngozi sat staring at her phone for several minutes, the weight of what she’d overheard pulling at her conscience. Then curiosity won.

She messaged a contact on WhatsApp.

         Ngozi: Babe, you still have those blogs that pay for gist?

Friend: Of course. Depends on how hot it is. ₦20k to ₦200k. I actually have my own blog now, and we pay immediately after publishing.

Ngozi: This one is middle-hot. Our Apostle finally has a woman.

Friend: Please! Everybody always says that. What’s the proof?

Ngozi: His assistant said it herself. I overheard her call, she said Apostle has a fiancée, and he just left to see her in the hospital.

There was a pause.

Friend: Wait, wait, his assistant said it? That’s gold, babe. That’s like ₦60k gist minimum. Are you sure she said fiancée?

Ngozi: Word for word.

Friend: Send full details. I’ll handle the rest. Don’t worry, I’ll make it look classy, not gossip, just “exclusive.”

Ngozi: Please don’t make him look bad. He’s a good man.

Friend: Relax. I’ll say “rumour has it” and leave it there. The internet will do the talking. Expect your alert tonight.

Ngozi sighed and set her phone down, and began to type frantically. Just then, Cathy walked back in, looking refreshed, humming softly.

“Ah, Ngozi,” she said, smiling. “You’re still at it. Hope you’ve eaten?”

“Yes, ma,” Ngozi said quickly, forcing a smile.

Cathy placed a file on her desk and said warmly, “In such a short while, you’ve been such a blessing to this ministry. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Ngozi looked up, her heart suddenly heavy. “Don’t worry, ma,” she said softly. “You won’t have to find out.”

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

By the time Apostle Michael arrived at the hospital, his phone had already rung twice. It was Cathy.

“Sir, please keep a low profile,” she said immediately.

Michael frowned slightly. “Why? What’s going on?”

Her voice carried both surprise and concern. “Honestly, I don’t understand it myself. I just heard about your relationship today, but somehow people already seem to know. One of the media blogs picked it up about twenty minutes ago, and another one has reposted it. I even ran a quick Google search, and it’s already showing under your name.”

Michael’s tone hardened. “What exactly did they say?”

“The first headline reads: ‘Apostle Michael in Love.’ The second one says something about you ‘visiting a hospital in Lagos’. I thought it was a joke until I saw screenshots in a WhatsApp group.”

Michael exhaled slowly. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I know,” Cathy replied quickly.

Michael leaned back in his seat, shaking his head. “Well, I’m not trying to hide anything. I just don’t want to make her uncomfortable by media bombarding. She is a private person. Anyway, we will be alright. Thank you for telling me.”

“You’re welcome, sir. Please just be careful. Don’t allow any photographs and videos. I have also sent a team to join you at the hospital, to avoid unsolicited interviews.”

“Good. God bless you, Cathy.”

He ended the call, closed his eyes for a brief moment, and whispered, “Holy Spirit, please don’t let this get messy. Guard this process.”

And with that, Apostle Michael stepped out of the car and walked briskly toward the hospital entrance.

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

Busayo was fast asleep when Michael arrived at the hospital.
He had gone straight to the reception, hoping to make quiet inquiries, since she wasn’t picking his calls. The nurse on duty was scrolling her phone when he arrived, but gasped as soon as she looked up and saw him. He remembered her name, Ruth, from the praise team in the Ikeja branch.

“Apostle?” she whispered.
Her voice trembled as she rose to her feet. “Sir, I… I didn’t know you were coming.”

Michael smiled gently. “Good afternoon, Sister Ruth.”

“Good afternoon, sir,” she said, still wide-eyed. ”

“I am here for visitation,” he said calmly. “A patient named Busayo.”

Ruth blinked twice, surprised. “Busayo? Is that the lady the blogs have been…” she trailed off.

Michael was silent but he didn’t stop looking at her.

She suddenly became embarrassed. “I’m sorry sir”, she said quietly.

Before he could respond, she had left the desk and hurried around the counter. “Please Apostle, follow me. I’ll take you there personally.”

He sighed quietly but followed. The fewer eyes on him, the better.

Ruth walked briskly through the corridor, almost like she was escorting royalty. When they reached the private ward, she pushed open the door and stepped aside.

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

Busayo stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, blurry at first, then cleared. She froze.

“Apostle?” she whispered, sitting up slowly.

Ruth nodded nervously and excused herself, closing the door behind her.

A soft silence lingered.

“You shouldn’t have bothered. I will be fine.” Busayo said finally, smiling faintly. “I’m fine now.”

Michael pulled a chair closer to her bed and sat down. “And what would that make me,” he asked lightly, “if I didn’t bother? A bad fiancé?”

She raised a brow. “Apostle…”

“Yes?”

She sighed. “You and this fiancee thing. I’m still praying about it. I literally just started another fast.”

Michael’s lips curved into a teasing smile. “Good. When you finish the fast, we’ll start planning the wedding. Even though I don’t think your Doctor approves of a fast right now.”

Busayo stared at him. “Apostle, you have a very strong sense of humor.”

He laughed quietly. “Actually, I’m not that funny. You bring it out of me.”

She shook her head, laughing despite herself. “You’re unbelievable. Have you done something like this before? I mean, ask a woman out.”

“The last time I said anything romantic to a woman,” he said thoughtfully, “was about twenty years ago. I was seventeen.”

Busayo’s eyes widened. “Wait, you’re thirty-seven?”

“Yes.”

“Wow,” she said. “I thought you were in your mid-forties.”

He chuckled. “Wow. You do know how to give compliments.”

“No! That wasn’t an insult,” she said quickly, flustered. “I just meant… I mean, you’ve achieved so much. The churches, the ministry… You carry such maturity, I just assumed you were older.”

Michael nodded. “I started ministry when I was twenty-three. I’ve spent most of my adult life learning obedience. That’s all ministry really is, obedience and surrender. When we obey God, he helps us do very big things, that’s what all this is about. I am just a yielded man to a powerful God.”

Busayo looked at him, her eyes softening. “How do some people just get it right?” she murmured. “You have this kind of faith that’s unshakable. This peace. I’m jealous of that.”

Michael leaned slightly forward, and put her hand into his own. “Busayo, as long as you still have faith, even if it’s the size of a mustard seed, you already have what it takes to move mountains.”

He paused, watching her eyes glisten. “The fact that you’re here, still talking to God, even through the pain… means your faith is alive. You’re not faithless. You’re just disappointed.”

Her breath caught.

He continued softly, “That’s what I sensed the first day I saw you. You’re not broken, you’re bruised. You love God deeply, you just can’t understand why He let certain things happen. You expected a loving Father to shield you from every blow, and when it seemed like He didn’t, it created this quiet coldness.”

Busayo couldn’t take her eyes off Michael.

“So… you’re saying I’m still a worthy Christian,” she asked quietly, “even though I have all these doubts about God?”

Michael smiled. “Yes. And it’s okay to have doubts, as long as you don’t let them stay. You must shut them down with understanding, not denial.”
He leaned forward slightly. “And you can’t get understanding without reading the Word.”

She hesitated. “I read my Bible… every week.”

He raised a brow. “Every week? That’s not good enough.”

Busayo looked embarrassed. “I know, I know.”

“You must study to show yourself approved,” he said softly. “In studying, the Holy Spirit begins to explain things to you. He gives you clarity, direction, peace. The Word of God is the cure for what you’re feeling, that confusion, that sense of distance.”

He paused, watching her listen like a child drinking in truth. “Think about it,” he continued. “If you want to be an expert in a field, you study it, right? Doctors study medicine. Lawyers study law. But so many Christians just quote half verses, one line here, one verse there, and say they know God. You can’t call yourself a lawyer without law school, or a surgeon without anatomy. Yet many want to walk with God without knowing His Word.”

Busayo smiled faintly. “But I’m not trying to be a pastor. Do I need to go to Bible school too?”

Michael laughed. “No. But you do need to go to Word school,  your personal time with the Bible and the Holy Spirit. That’s where He begins to reveal Himself to you. It’s not automatic. Many people practice religion, not relationship, but what God really wants is a relationship with you.”

“Jesus,” Busayo whispered, shaking her head. “Apostle, you’re so wise.”

He smiled. “And you’re so beautiful.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Am I beautiful because God told you I’m your wife, or because you actually find me beautiful?”

“Both,” Michael said simply. “It was when God told me you’re my wife that I allowed myself to see you.”

Busayo blinked. “Wait, what?”

“In my line of work,” he said gently, “it’s important to guard my eyes and my heart. I never allowed myself to look at any woman beyond a handshake. God told me, ‘When it’s time, I’ll tell you.’ So I waited, till He showed you to me.”

He chuckled. “And I must confess, you have the most beautiful face and figure I’ve ever allowed myself to notice. Every time I see you, my heart stirs.”

She laughed nervously. “Apostle, please…”

Michael smiled, unbothered. “The Holy Spirit Himself is planting love and deep affection for you in my heart.”

Busayo covered her face with both hands. “God, Apostle…”

“Tell me,” he said softly, “would it be so hard for you to fall in love with me?”

She looked at him for a long moment. “Honestly? A very big Yes. But I’m afraid I’ll say yes just because I’m honoured, not because I’ve heard from God. That’s why I thought I need time.”

Michael nodded slowly. “That’s fair, but tell me, am I the kind of man you’d like?”

She laughed. “I like you very much.”

“Then it’s half settled.”

“Half settled?” she teased. “You didn’t even ask if I’m feeling better. I’m literally on a hospital bed.”

He grinned. “The pain you’re feeling isn’t physical, Busayo. It’s in your heart. It’s grief. Maybe that’s why God brought me into your life, so we could carry it together. So it would be lighter.”

Then, gently, he added, “Marry me.”

Busayo stared, then burst out laughing. “Do you have a ring, Apostle?”

“I can buy one tomorrow.”

“Ha!” she said, still laughing. “I was only joking.”

He smiled too. “Stop playing with my heart.”

At that exact moment, the door opened. It was Gloria.

“I hear you have a visitor,” Gloria said, but as soon as she saw Apostle Michael, she froze, then fell to her knees.

“Please, no, don’t do that,” Michael said quickly, helping her up.

“I’m so honoured to be in your presence sir,” Gloria said breathlessly. “You’ve blessed me in ways you can’t imagine. Your sermons have changed my life.”

“To God be the glory,” he replied softly. Then, turning toward Busayo, he added, “Please take care of my fiancée.”

Gloria’s jaw dropped. “You’ve accepted?”

Busayo smiled shyly.

Michael squeezed her hand once more, then stood. “I’ll let you rest,” he said quietly. “I’ll see you soon. Let me go and get us food.”

He walked toward the door, leaving a calm sweetness behind him.

As soon as he left, Gloria turned to Busayo, eyes wide. “Have they still not found a cause for the headache?”

“I think I just needed sleep,” Busayo murmured. “I’m better now.”

Gloria smiled. “Of course you are. Anyone would be better after seeing Apostle Michael.”

Busayo chuckled. “To be honest, on a normal day, I’d be happy to see you but right now, I’m not so happy you came.”

“Why?” Gloria grinned. “Because I interrupted your moment with the Apostle?”

Busayo rolled her eyes.

“Abeg, you’re going to have the rest of your life with him,” Gloria said dramatically. “This is my last small moment to tease you. Let me enjoy it.”

Busayo smiled and shook her head.

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

Apostle Michael is a lover boy. Lol. Busayo should just say yes already please. I can’t help but wonder what she’s still praying about. It just feels like she has accepted without accepting. But then, I understand her a bit. Glamour and awe are not enough to sustain a marriage. 

I don’t know who I found more annoying in this episode. Cathy? Or Ngozi? Anyway, let’s countdown to the last episode. See you on the 29th!

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