Chapter Five

Michael 

Busayo had not responded to any of his last messages. His messages had been met with silence.

Michael had just returned from London after a full week of ministry. It had been extraordinary, people were healed, hearts were restored, and there were so many testimonies that left even him in quiet awe. He never got used to moments like that: a man rising from a wheelchair; a woman whose lump vanished,  and an autistic girl who made full recovery, right there in the congregation. Every service reminded him that God still walked among men.

Yet for all that glory, he was exhausted. Two additional churches had learnt he was in London and had somehow inserted themselves into his schedule. So, by the time his flight landed in Lagos, he was spiritually fulfilled, but physically drained.

Now, as he stepped out of the car in front of his house, he was determined to lay every weight aside, and just rest. Cathy had asked for a day off, and he had granted it. He extended it to the protocol teams that went with them as well, because he was going to tune off. The plan was simple: eat, rest, and show up later in the evening for midweek service. It was only 12 noon; so he had time.

But as soon as he dropped his travel bag, his thoughts went to Busayo again.

She had not replied.

He sighed deeply and leaned against the wall. “Lord, why are You letting me embarrass myself like this? I’m not that desperate. You know I’m not. Yet, You said she’s the one.”

The stillness that followed was heavy, until a whisper came, quiet but unmistakable.
Go and visit her.

Michael blinked. “Visit her? Lord, I don’t even know where she lives or works.”

The voice came again, firm but gentle.

Drive to Victoria Island. Park at EbonyLife Place. Go alone.

He rubbed his forehead. “God, this is not exactly how You trained me. I can’t just go wandering around Lagos.”

But the prompting remained.
Go and see her.

He sat there for another minute, waiting to see if the instruction would fade. It didn’t.

So, reluctantly, he stood up. “Alright, Lord. You win.”

He changed into his casual disguise, the baseball cap that hid his face well, his black polo shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Few people ever recognised him when he dressed that way. Once, he had gone grocery shopping in Lekki and no one had looked twice; another time, he had visited his niece at the University of Lagos, and blended easily into the crowd. He hoped today would be the same.

When Samson, his driver and occasional bodyguard, saw him heading out alone, he frowned. “Sir, I can come with you. It’s not safe for you to drive out alone.”

Michael shook his head. “Not today, Samson. I’ll be fine. God sent me; He’ll keep me.”

“Are you sure, sir?”

“Positive. Just stay close by, in case I call.”

And with that, he slipped into the driver’s seat, started the car, and drove off.

The city moved lazily that afternoon, or maybe it was just him, unhurriedly going, praying under his breath, waiting for instructions. When he got to Victoria Island, he parked outside EbonyLife Place, leaned back for a moment, and prayed quietly.

Then he dialed her number.

Busayo answered on the second ring, her voice polite and slightly surprised. “Good afternoon, sir. I’m so sorry I haven’t replied to your messages.”

“No worries,” Michael said, smiling despite himself. “Have you had lunch?”

“Not yet. It’s been such a busy day. I’m actually hungry, though.”

“Where’s your office? I’m around Victoria Island, close to EbonyLife Place.”

There was a pause. “You’re in VI? My office is on Oyin Jolayemi street.”

“Great,” he said, glancing through his windshield at the building across the street. “I could be at your office in about ten minutes, maybe less. We could go and get you lunch.”

Her tone was hesitant. “Ah, Apostle, please don’t bother yourself. I know you must be tired from your trip. I will be fine.”

“I want to,” he said softly, and he realised that it was true. This wasn’t just about obeying God, as soon as he heard her voice, he desired to see her again. He had just been trying to avoid confronting his response to her. What was it about her? “I want to,” he said again, when she didn’t answer.

After a few seconds, she said quietly, “Alright, sir. I’ll text you the address.”

When the message came through, he smiled and replied. “Got it. I’ll see you soon.”

As he drove toward her office, he began to pray in the Spirit. “Lord, please guide me. Don’t let me act out of emotion. If this meeting is truly Your will, let it bear fruit. Give me words that bring peace, not confusion.”

He exhaled slowly. “And please, don’t let this end in embarrassment. You know me, I’d rather be preaching to five thousand people than chasing one woman I barely know, no matter how I feel about her.”

The answer came quietly to his heart.
She’s not just one woman. She’s the one.

Michael gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Alright then, Lord. Teach me how to move wisely.”

He turned into the street leading to her office, heart steady but reverent, ready for whatever God had planned next.

———————————————————————————————-

Busayo

As soon as the call ended, Busayo rose abruptly from her chair, her heart racing.

Her colleague at the next desk looked up, startled. “Are you okay? What happened? You look like you just saw a ghost. Who called you?”

Busayo opened her mouth to respond but stopped herself in time. Explaining that the Apostle Michael had just asked to see her would be the worst kind of office gossip. People would twist it into something it wasn’t, and she wasn’t ready for that kind of talk.

She mumbled something about needing air, then hurried into the restroom.

Under the bright mirror light, she looked at herself properly for the first time that day. She was wearing a baby-pink sweater over a pair of fitted blue jeans, comfortable, yes, but simple, too simple. She sighed. “So this is what I wear on the day Apostle Michael decides to see me in person again?”

Her reflection almost laughed back at her. “I look like a teenager.”

She applied a bit of powder, brushed her eyebrows into shape, and adjusted her hair. Her fingers trembled slightly as she whispered under her breath, “Apostle wants to see me. The Apostle.”

Then she smiled nervously. “God, please don’t let me embarrass myself.”

—————————————————————————————

When she stepped out of the building, she expected to see a driver standing by a black SUV, maybe even one of those polished protocol officers who always followed important public figures for security. But instead, an elegant Mercedes sedan was parked there, and the man behind the wheel looked like one of those quietly stylish Lagos men, the kind who dressed casually in expensive clothes. You never saw them work, yet you always saw them spending.

He wound down the glass and raised up his sunglasses.

Busayo froze.
“Sorry… are you Apostle Michael, or his brother?”

Michael chuckled softly. “Wow. I guess my disguise is working. Come in.”

She hesitated for a moment, smiled nervously, then walked over and slid into the passenger seat.

He smiled at her. “Where do you want to eat?”

“Ah, sir, anywhere is fine,” she said quickly.

Michael turned toward her. “Can we agree on something?”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t call me sir.”

Her eyes widened. “No, sir, I mean, Apostle, I can’t do that. You’re a man of God, a spiritual leader. You, you are…”

“I know who I am,” he said, still smiling. “But I don’t want you to call me sir or Apostle. Just Michael is fine.”

Busayo looked at him properly this time as he eased the car away from her office, glancing at her now and then while keeping his eyes on the road. His gaze was kind and steady when it met hers, clear, unguarded. The quiet confidence in it made her heart skip.

What is this Apostle looking for, with me?

“You keep insisting on this,” she said softly. “Why?”

Michael removed his sunglasses completely and placed them on the dashboard. “Because God told me you’re the one.”

Her breath caught. “The one?”

“Yes,” he said simply. “From the first day I met you till now, every time I see you, it feels like I’m meeting someone who carries a piece of my destiny. I don’t want to confuse this new friendship with titles or the distance that comes with calling me sir. So please, just call me Michael.”

Busayo covered her face with her hand. “This is… this is too much. You don’t even know me. How can you say something like that? We’ve met only three times.”

“I know,” he said gently. “And I’m not asking you to believe me. I’m only telling you what God told me. You have your own relationship with Him, so go and ask our father. Pray. Tell Him, ‘Lord, this man says You spoke to him; what did You tell him, and what are You saying to me?”

She gave a small, nervous laugh. “I do talk to God, Apostle, and when I ask him about men, He mostly just tells me who not to date. So forgive me if I’m skeptical about Him suddenly approving you.”

Michael smiled. “Ask him. I’ll wait for His answer.”

Busayo held his gaze for a moment, as though weighing the matter, then looked away, shaking her head.

“Sir, I am not sure I can pray about this. I feel honoured, but I also know my strengths and weaknesses, and being with a Pastor is not something I am worthy to be nor have the courage for.”

Micheal looked at her, and smiled. “I am not a Pastor, I am an Apostle.”

There was a moment of silence before she laughed, then he joined her, till she got serious again.

“I’m going through a lot, Apostle Michael. My father just died, and it sent me on a dark journey of questioning everything, even my faith. I am not the right person for a man like you. I am still in mourning, I can’t…” Busayo paused, unable to go on.

His tone softened. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. May God comfort you.”

Then, even softer, he said “Loss has a way of shaking the ground beneath us. Especially when it’s someone who anchored your life.”

She nodded, staring out of the window, blinking hard.

“You don’t have to be strong with me,” he continued. “And you don’t have to have your faith neatly packaged either. Grief doesn’t mean you’ve lost God. Sometimes it just means you’re honest enough to tell Him you’re hurting.”

“We don’t always understand why some lives are shorter than others,” Michael said, eyes fixed on the road. “That question humbles all of us. But what I know, what I’ve come to trust, is that when people leave us, God doesn’t. He stays with us to carry what we can’t, if we let him.”

He glanced at her briefly, not to inspect her reaction, but to make sure she was still with him.

“And Busayo,” he said gently, “I don’t think God ever designed you to walk this season alone. Maybe that is why I am here, and the reason God chose us to meet in this season.”

She shifted slightly in her seat.

“I’m not saying this lightly,” he went on. “Or dramatically. But since the first day I truly saw you, I haven’t been able to shake the sense that meeting you wasn’t accidental. I’ve prayed about it more than once. I tried to talk myself out of it.” A small smile touched his lips. “It didn’t work.”

The car was quiet now, save for the low hum of the engine.

“I’m not trying to rush you into anything,” he added gently. “Or fix you. I just wanted you to know that I see you, where you are, not where people expect you to be.”

He paused, then smiled faintly.

“And if all you can do right now is breathe and get through each day, that’s okay. God is patient. So am I.”

Busayo didn’t respond immediately.

Something in her chest loosened, not enough to ease the ache, but enough to let a little air in. She stared ahead, blinking slowly, steadying herself. Her fingers relaxed around her bag.

She exhaled, long and quiet, as though she had been holding her breath for weeks without realising it.

“Thank you,” she said finally, her voice low, genuinely grateful for his kind words, yet she wasn’t ready to step through the door he had opened, even when a part of her didn’t want him to close it either.

After a while, he said, “Is there somewhere you’d like to eat?”

“Everywhere around here feels too public,” she admitted. “Maybe we could drive to that restaurant down the street”, she pointed. I’ll grab something and come back to eat in the car.”

“Alright,” he said. Then after a moment he added playfully, “Do you mind if I drive around a bit first? Just to soak in the presence of you.”

Busayo turned to him in disbelief. “Soak in the presence of me? Apostle, are you being serious?”

He laughed softly. “I’m trying to get used to the idea of you, especially now that you’ll be my wife.”

Her jaw dropped. “Apostle!”

“Michael,” he corrected, smiling.

She sighed deeply, unable to hide the small, reluctant smile tugging at her lips. “You really are something else.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, starting the car.

And for the first time in weeks, Busayo laughed, an honest, full laugh that reached her eyes.

“Is God trying to play a trick on my mind?”

————————————————————————————————————–

Michael – Few Hours Later

Michael couldn’t believe it.

Just a few moments with Busayo, and it was as though the Holy Spirit had opened his eyes to a part of himself he had long forgotten, the man behind the title, the heart beneath the calling.

He sat in his car for a while after dropping her off, shaking his head, half amused, half unsettled. “God, what are You doing to me?”

When he finally returned home, he went straight to his room, dropped his phone on the bed, and began to change into his clothes for the midweek service. He needed to focus. But his mind refused to stay quiet.

Instead of meditating on his sermon notes, he found himself picking up his phone again, scrolling to Busayo’s WhatsApp chat, and God help him,  opening Instagram, searching for her name.

He found her. Her smile was gentle, her posts were simple and warm, just posts about normal things of life, like dinner with family, team bonding at work, and church programme invitations.

Michael chuckled quietly. “Lord, this girl is beautiful. I mean, really beautiful.” He paused, remembering the baby-pink sweater she had worn that afternoon. “And in that pink sweater… she looked like a princess who didn’t even know she was one.”

He dropped the phone quickly and exhaled. “Okay. Focus. Sermon time.”

But the whisper came again, quiet and unmistakable:
Marry her.

He froze. “What?”

Marry her.

Michael blinked twice, looking toward the ceiling. “Lord, I just met this woman properly today. I’m still trying to convince her that I’m not crazy, and you’re already saying marriage?” He laughed, shaking his head. 

Still, the instruction sat gently in his spirit, even as he left for church.

Some minutes later, as he walked toward his office, he saw Cathy standing by the door.

“Cathy,” he said, surprised, “I thought you were taking the rest of the day off. What are you doing here?”

She smiled quickly, hands clasped in front of her. “I don’t know, Apostle. I just felt like I shouldn’t leave yet. I had this strange nudge to stay back. And, well, my sister’s in town, and she’s been wanting to meet you for a while. So I thought… Maybe this could be a good time?”

Michael raised an eyebrow but smiled politely. “Alright then, no problem. Let’s meet her.”

Cathy signalled toward the door, and a young woman entered the office. She was stylish, confident, and obviously used to attention.

“Apostle,” she said brightly, stretching her hand toward him, “Cathy has told me so many amazing things about you. I actually watched your London sessions online. It’s so good to finally meet you! We missed each other there, but I knew I’d be home soon, so…”

Her voice trailed off into a small laugh that seemed rehearsed. Michael smiled, offering her a handshake but not much else. “You’re very welcome. It’s good to have you home.”

For the next few minutes, the conversation floated between polite small talk and light humor. She was charming, clearly so, but there was something off. Her compliments lingered too long, her laughter felt too polished.

When she finally left, Michael called Cathy in. “Cathy, is everything okay with your sister?”

Cathy laughed awkwardly. “Of course, sir. She’s fine. Why do you ask?”

Michael studied her quietly. “Because I have a feeling this visit wasn’t spontaneous.”

She sighed, caught. “You’re right, sir. I was talking to Reverend John recently, and we were all a bit worried about you. You’ve been so focused on ministry and haven’t even mentioned marriage in years. The Reverend said we should help widen your circle, maybe introduce you to a few good people. You’re always busy, Apostle. Maybe you just don’t have time to meet anyone.”

Michael exhaled slowly. “So you thought to bring your sister?”

Cathy nodded eagerly. “She’s a really good person, sir. I promise. You just need to spend time with her.”

He smiled faintly, though his tone remained firm. “That’s not happening, Cathy.”

Her face fell. “Oh… I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean…”

Michael raised a hand gently. “It’s fine. Your heart is in the right place. But your help isn’t needed in this matter. The Holy Spirit already told me He’ll sort me out.”

Cathy tilted her head. “Wait, so there’s someone?”

He smiled, looking past her. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

She blinked, caught between surprise and curiosity. “Oh. Wow. Okay, then. I’ll never try matchmaking again.”

“Please don’t,” he said lightly, reaching for his Bible. “Some things are not for men to arrange.”

As soon as she left, he spent a couple of minutes thanking God for his direction today, then he prayed for an encounter for all who will attend the programme. The sound of worship filled his office, soft, rising, full of hunger. He paused for a moment, soaking it in.

Then, on impulse, he pulled out his phone and sent a message.

Michael: Are you home?

A few minutes later, Busayo replied.
Busayo: Yes, I just got back from work.

Michael: Are you streaming our midweek service?

Busayo: No, Apostle. I have my own church.

He smiled.
Michael: Well, this will be your church soon, so you might as well start getting used to our services.

There was a pause, then her reply came:
Busayo: Apostle…

Michael: I told you already, it’s Michael.

He smiled again, slid the phone into his pocket, and stepped out of his office into the church.

 

Chapter Six

Busayo sat cross-legged on the couch, laptop open, remote in hand, a bowl of popcorn within reach. 

He said this will be your church soon.

She exhaled deeply. “Lord, what does that even mean?”

Across the room, Gloria was working on her laptop balanced on a pillow, working from home. She stretched, yawned, and called out, “Which one are you watching today? Your regular church?”

Busayo hesitated, then said, “Yes, I was about to start.”

Before she could switch the screen, Gloria took the remote playfully and changed the YouTube channel. “Let’s just watch Apostle Michael’s service first. His teachings always calm me. Don’t worry, I will join you to watch your own service right after.”

Busayo folded her arms, pretending to protest, but she didn’t reach for the remote. As the choir began to lead worship, something stirred in her heart.

She lowered her head and whispered, “God, what is this Apostle even saying? Could it be real? Could You actually mean it when You told him I’m the one?”

The words felt too sacred to say aloud, but the question echoed through her chest.

Then, unexpectedly, peace swept through her, a still, wordless confirmation that wasn’t loud, but clear enough to still her doubts.

She sat there frozen for a moment, her heart pounding. “Ha,” she whispered, half laughing, half trembling. “From where to where? Marry him?”

She took a handful of popcorn and pressed play on the service again, trying to drown the thought beneath the music.

Just then, Gloria turned away from her laptop. “This service needs my undivided attention.”

Busayo smiled faintly. “Yeah”

“Let me close my laptop and join you properly.”

Busayo raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you go to church today? That’s so unlike you. You always go in person.”

Gloria sighed. “Work deadlines. I couldn’t finish everything, so I decided to stay home. But knowing that the Apostle is ministering, I don’t want to miss it, even if it must be online today. He always has a word in season for me.”

Busayo sighed, she couldn’t even begin to imagine Gloria’s reaction if she knew she was with Apostle Michael today, or heard what he said to her.

They sat side by side, the glow of the TV reflecting softly on their faces. Busayo thought of telling her everything, about the text messages, the unplanned lunch, and the impossible declaration by her Apostle, but her tongue refused to move.

Gloria noticed. “You look like you want to tell me something.”

Busayo smiled quickly. “No, no. Nothing. Let’s just watch.”

Gloria returned the smile, “We are not watching, we are worshipping.”

“That’s what I mean, it just didn’t come out well,” Busayo defended herself, and Gloria nodded, but she couldn’t help thinking that Gloria was probably the better person for the Apostle, if he must be with someone regular, and not a fellow minister of God like himself.

The sermon was powerful, a message about God’s timing, and Apostle Michael spoke with a calm authority that filled the room.

“Delay,” he said, “is not denial. God isn’t slow; He’s intentional. He’s not trying to frustrate you, He’s aligning you.”

Busayo felt the words pierce through her. It was almost unreal how easily he spoke straight into her life.

By the time the service ended, both women were silent for a while. The worship had faded into tongues, low, steady, holy.

Then Gloria turned suddenly. “Busayo, something just dropped in my mind. I’m not joking.”

“What?” Busayo asked, startled.

Gloria hesitated, then smiled awkwardly. “I just imagined you as the Apostle’s wife. It was like a flash. I literally saw you in white beside him. It’s weird.”

Busayo laughed nervously. “That would be funny.”

Gloria laughed too. “Very funny. Because honestly, you don’t have the characteristics of a pastor’s wife in any way. You skip physical church, you don’t like crowds, you live quietly,  definitely not an Apostle’s type of woman.”

Busayo rolled her eyes. “Exactly. So can we drop this imagination?”

Gloria nodded, still smiling. “Yes. Except… for some reason, I can’t unsee it.”

Busayo went quiet for a long moment, then said softly, “Apostle came to see me at work today.”

Gloria nearly choked. “He what?!”

“I wish I was joking,” Busayo said, reaching for another piece of popcorn.

Gloria’s eyes were wide. “You mean the Apostle Michael? As in, he came to your office?”

Busayo nodded slowly. “Yes. And he told me… he said God told him I’m the one.”

Gloria screamed, then broke into laughter. “What? God is wonderful. He works in mysterious ways!”

Busayo frowned. “Why are you being dramatic?”

“Because this is the biggest news of the year. But if Apostle Michael said God told him, then God told him. That man doesn’t talk carelessly. There’s no guile in him.”

Busayo groaned. “Gloria, please. Who even says I want to be a pastor’s wife? Have you thought about what that life looks like? The expectations, the pressure, the constant eyes watching your every move?”

Gloria smiled gently. “You do what God wants you to do. It doesn’t matter what you want. You’ve been complaining all these years that God keeps saying no to every man who asks you out. Now He’s sent you his son with a stamp of approval, and you’re fighting it. You need to say Yes quickly.”

Busayo sighed. “Yes to a man I barely know? A man whose calling I don’t even have the faith to carry.”

Gloria touched her arm. “God doesn’t call the qualified. He qualifies the called. If He’s choosing you, it’s because He trusts you, Busayo. ”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The TV screen flickered with the replay of the choir’s worship.

Then Busayo whispered, “Pray with me.”

Gloria straightened immediately. “Say no more. I’m starting a three-day fast right now. We’ll pray this through, and God will confirm His will.”

Busayo smiled faintly. “Apostle Michael…”

Before she could finish the thought, her phone buzzed.

It was a message from him.

Michael: So, did you stream our service?

Busayo’s heart raced as she typed.
Busayo: I did. It was powerful. God blessed me.

Michael: Great. Can I come and see you again tomorrow for lunch?

She stared at the message for a while, then replied slowly.
Busayo: Apostle, let’s take it slow. I’m still praying about it.

His response came almost immediately.
Michael: Good. Maybe seeing me will help the prayers. I’ll be there.

Busayo stared at the screen, then let out a deep, resigned sigh.
“Gloria,” she said softly, “you might need to add me to that fast.”

Gloria laughed, raising her hands in mock surrender. “Day one starts tonight.”

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

Michael couldn’t leave the church as quickly as he wanted.

Administrative issues kept surfacing, final details about the Australian missionaries arriving the next day, last-minute coordination, people requesting prayers, others asking for counsel. Even though he had long delegated most of these responsibilities to the pastors, there were still those who insisted it had to be him. Always him.

By the time he finally made it home, he was exhausted, and hungry, very hungry.

He paused for a moment, surprised by the intensity of it. Earlier that day, when he had been with Busayo, he barely touched his food. He had been watching her instead, listening, observing, taking her in.

God, how did this even happen?

What is this You’re doing to me? Is this You… or is it me?

She is beautiful, yes, but it was more than that. There was a softness about her, a quiet steadiness. She carried herself as though life hadn’t pressed too heavily on her shoulders, even though he knew it had. His heart tightened at the thought.

And I don’t even know her that well.

He reached for his phone, instinctively, about to call her as he stepped into the house, then stopped.

There were voices.

Female voices.

He looked up to find his mother seated comfortably in the living room, his Aunty Janet, beside her, and his younger sister, Rebecca, leaning against the arm of the sofa.

“Ah,” Michael said, forcing a smile. “Ladies. I didn’t know I was having company tonight.”

His mother stood up immediately. “You’re hard to reach,” she said, not unkindly. “So I came. You know I have a key. I decided to cook for you. Janet is visiting me for the week, so I dragged her along, and you already know Rebecca won’t miss a chance to visit, so here we are.”

“Mummy, that wasn’t necessary,” Michael replied gently. “The cook handles things fine.”

His aunty clicked her tongue. “So you’ve handed over what should be your wife’s work to a cook, and you’re comfortable with it? That’s troubling.”

Michael sighed. “It’s my situation for now, Aunty Janet. And I’m okay with it.”

“Well, I’m not,” his mother said firmly. “We are not okay with it at all.”

Rebecca raised her hands slightly. “For the record, I don’t agree with them. They dragged me here.”

Michael shot her a look. “You could have warned me.”

Aunty Janet smiled placatingly. “Michael, you know we’re proud of you. Truly. Do you know how many people ask me to help them book appointments with you? They want you to pray for them. That makes us proud.”

His mother nodded. “But I’m not getting any younger. And if you won’t marry, then we will help you.”

Michael froze. “Help me how?”

“There’s a girl,” his aunty said quickly.

“No, no,” his mother cut in. “Let me say it. I found her.”

Aunt Janet frowned. “But I was the one who helped collect her number,”

“Whose number?” Michael asked sharply.

Rebecca cleared her throat. “I’m not involved in this.”

Michael looked back at his mother. “Mummy… this isn’t going to work. I’m actually embarrassed that you think you can just find me someone.”

His mother’s expression softened. “My son. The Apostle Michael himself. I know it’s God who will help you choose,  but I am also your mother. And I feel strongly about this girl.”

He didn’t respond.

“I had a dream,” she continued. “In the dream, I saw you getting married. This year.”

Rebecca laughed. “Mummy, this year? There are barely three months left.”

“I saw what I saw,” his mother said calmly. “And I know you don’t have a girlfriend. That’s why God showed me, to help you.”

She leaned forward. “So… when should I arrange a meeting?”

Michael stared at her for a second. Then he laughed.

“Mummy, I’m tired,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “Let me go and shower. We’ll talk when I come back to eat.”

His mother nodded. “Alright. Go.”

Michael turned toward the hallway, still smiling to himself.

“When I come back,” he added lightly, “I have my own news.”

And with that, he disappeared into the room, leaving three women staring after him, curious, confused, and suddenly very alert.

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

Busayo

There was a quiet joy in being pursued, and despite herself, Busayo felt that joy.

And this wasn’t just any man.

This was Apostle Michael.

The thought alone still felt unreal.

Even in the confusion, there was clarity, and this was what unsettled her the most. God’s voice had been unmistakable, gentle, firm, and consistent. She couldn’t explain it away, or dismiss it as wishful thinking. And when she replayed the events in her mind, the chance meeting, the timing, the words spoken at just the right moment, it all felt too precise to be coincidence. 

It felt divinely orchestrated.

Gloria’s reaction replayed in her mind too. The way she had casually spoken that image aloud, as though it had simply dropped into her spirit. It felt like God’s kindness,  layered upon confirmation, as if He knew Busayo would need it.

She leaned back on the couch, exhaling slowly.

Michael’s sermon from earlier returned to her thoughts. Timing. How God moved when He was ready. How waiting doesn’t mean you are forgotten. How seasons aligns, even when they don’t make sense to us.

She glanced at her phone, it was almost 11 pm.

“Wow,” she murmured. “The day really flew.”

She pushed herself up and headed to the kitchen. Tomorrow was a workday, and as much as she had announced she would join Gloria in fasting, she knew herself well enough to know that sudden, unplanned fasting rarely ended well for her. Hunger made her dizzy at work. So she decided to meal-prep, just enough to get through the next day.

As she moved around the kitchen, she connected her phone to the speaker and shuffled her Apple Music playlist, and for the first twelve minutes she loved it, till the third song came up.

Her father’s favorite song.

The first note alone was enough to slow her hands. By the second, memories flooded in, long drives to the village, his laughter filling the car, the effortless safety she had always felt in his presence.

Her chest tightened.

Usually, he was the first person she told things like this. If a man had come into her life with this kind of seriousness, this kind of intention, it would have been her father she called first.

Now he was gone.

And suddenly, cooking this meal felt like betrayal. Like moving forward meant leaving him behind.

A tear slipped down her cheek. Then another.

Before she realised it, the dam broke. She leaned against the counter, shoulders shaking, sobs breaking through despite her attempts to stay quiet. Her head began to pound, that familiar ache building behind her eyes.

Her phone beeped.

Busayo glanced at the screen.

Apostle Michael.

Her chest tightened. She wiped her cheeks quickly, then typed before she could overthink it.

Busayo:

Good evening, Michael.

She stared at the message, panic fluttering almost immediately.

A second later, she typed again.

Busayo: Sorry, good evening, Apostle Michael.

There was a pause. Long enough for her to regret both messages.

Then her phone vibrated.

Michael: The first one was correct.

Her shoulders loosened without her permission.

Michael: I just got back from church. How are you?

Busayo frowned slightly, glancing at the time on her screen.

Busayo: Wow.

That service ended hours ago.

Michael: It did. But after service, people stayed back. Counselling. Prayers. Conversations that couldn’t be rushed.

Some people don’t need sermons. They just need someone to look them in the eyes and remind them that God hasn’t abandoned them.

She read his message, but didn’t respond. She simply sighed.

Michael: Are you okay? I sense you’re troubled.

Her fingers hovered.

Busayo: Can you see me?

A few seconds passed.

Michael: No. But I don’t need to.

Her breath left her in a slow exhale.

Busayo: Hey, God.

Michael: (smiles) Why are you still awake?

Busayo: I’m cooking.

Michael: Cooking? At this time?

She let out a small, tired laugh.

Busayo: I don’t really have a choice. I’m meal-prepping for tomorrow.

Michael: I’m not judging. I’ll still eat tonight too. I don’t plan to sleep till around 3 a.m. anyway.

Her thumbs slowed.

Busayo: What will you be doing till then?

Michael: Prayers. From 12:30 to 3.

She stared at the screen, unmoving.

Busayo: Wow. That is serious. You spend your whole day and night serving God.

Michael: It’s necessary to stay prayerful my dear. Ministering to people isn’t the same as spending time with God. People confuse the two. I still need my own time with Him. 

She leaned back against the counter, eyes closed, nodding to herself.

Busayo: You were really made for this. 

This time, the pause was longer.

Michael: Nobody is born for ministry. We’re all born to fellowship with God. That’s the first call.

Her throat tightened.

Another message came through.

Michael: I’ll chat with you later. My mum is here with my sister and my aunt. They’re eating. I will have to join them now.

Busayo: At this hour?

Michael: I don’t spend enough time with them so whenever we have time, we take what we get.

Busayo: Fair enough. I should get back to my cooking too.

Michael: Why are you taking food to work today?

I’m coming to your office tomorrow. I’ll take you out for lunch.

She stared at the screen for a long moment, then sent a single confused emoji.

Her phone rang.

She hesitated, then answered.

“Hello.”

“Busayo,” he said softly. “I’m coming to see you tomorrow. Is that fine? Do you have a lunch break?”

She swallowed. “I don’t know… I think we should take things slowly.”

There was a pause. Then a small laugh.

“You need to start getting used to us.”

She blinked. “There’s an us now?”

“Yes.”

Another pause, longer this time.

“Your voice doesn’t sound okay,” he said quietly.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” he said gently but firmly. “Don’t lie to me. I don’t appreciate that.”

“I wasn’t trying to lie,” she said, her voice thinning. “I just… I don’t want to sound like a broken record.”

“You’re safe with me,” he replied. “Be a broken record.”

Silence stretched between them.

Then she spoke, almost in a whisper, but loud enough to be heard.

“I was thinking about my father. About how everyone has moved on. And he’s just… gone.”

His voice softened completely.

“Cheer up.”

She almost laughed at how simple it sounded.

“When Christians die,” he continued, “they don’t disappear. They go home. Your dad is with the Lord. He’s not suffering. He’s probably wondering why you’re still worrying down here.”

Tears slid down her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Go and sleep after you finish cooking,” he said. “You need rest.”

“I will.”

The call ended.

The moment the line went dead, something inside her gave way.

She sank to the kitchen floor, sobbing openly now.

“God, I’m tired,” she cried. “Why am I so weak? Why can’t I just move on? I miss my daddy.”

Her phone rang again. It was Michael again. She picked at the second ring, without bothering to hide her grief.

“Are you okay?” Michael asked urgently.

“No.”

“I am coming to see you now.”

“Ha! No, please don’t come,” she rushed. “I’m fine.”

“I’m coming,” he said, voice steady. “Text me your address. There’s no traffic now. I’ll be there soon.”

She hesitated.

Then, without thinking, she sent it.

Michael

His phone beeped.

Michael glanced at the screen, saw the address, and nodded, glad she didn’t argue or refuse him.

He called his driver immediately.

“Please get the car ready. We’re going out.”

The man was already on night duty. Michael always kept a driver available at night. He didn’t like going out late, but the ministry didn’t always respect time. Sometimes it was a prayer call that couldn’t wait. Sometimes a pastor needed help. Sometimes someone just showed up at the church gate in tears. You learnt quickly not to plan your evenings too carefully.

This time, though, it wasn’t the ministry pulling him.

It was her.

The hunger he’d felt earlier vanished completely. He noticed it only because it was gone. All he knew was that he needed to see her, now. Nothing else seemed important.

He finished buttoning his shirt when he heard the knock.

He knew it was his mother before the sound fully registered. She had a particular way of knocking, gentle, unhurried, as though she already belonged on the other side of the door.

“Come in, Ma,” he said.

She stepped in slowly, her wrapper brushing softly against her legs. She paused near the door and looked at him for a moment, the way mothers do, observing.

“You’re going out,” she said.

“Yes, Ma.”

“Won’t you eat? We cooked for you. I want you to eat before you leave.”

He smiled faintly. “Maybe when I get back. Or tomorrow.”

She frowned. “I don’t understand you sometimes. What is it now?”

“Mummy,” he said gently, “you understand my calling.”

She studied him again. “So… did something happen? One of your pastors? A church member?”

He hesitated, then shook his head slightly. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be back soon.”

She nodded, walked to the edge of the bed, and sat down, smoothing the fabric beneath her palm,  a familiar, unconscious habit.

“Before you go,” she said quietly, “let’s talk.”

Michael leaned against the wardrobe. “I thought we already did.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “That one was not complete.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “Alright.”

She sighed, the sound heavy with years. “Michael, don’t be upset with us. We didn’t find a girl for you because we think you are incapable. We did it because we are concerned.”

“Concerned about what?” he asked gently.

She looked up at him. “About you being alone.”

He was quiet.

“You are no longer an ordinary man,” she continued. “Your office has grown. Your name has grown. Everything around you has become… complicated. Do you think it’s easy for you now to approach a woman the way other men do?”

He considered that. “Why shouldn’t it be?”

She smiled sadly. “Because people no longer see just you. They see the Apostle. They see meaning where there may be none. They interpret every smile, every visit, every word.”

Michael nodded slowly. “So you decided to intervene.”

“Yes,” she said simply. “Because sometimes, help is needed, and I am your mother, I had to help. God showed me your wedding.”

He met her eyes. “In the dream?”

Her expression changed. Softer now. Reverent. “I saw you getting married. It is going to happen this year. God showed me clearly. That’s why I acted.”

“God is right,” Michael said.

Her face lit up immediately. “You see? I told you. God speaks to me too. I carried you in my womb. I prayed for you before you even knew how to pray.”

He smiled. “I don’t doubt that, Ma.”

She leaned closer. “So… what is the plan? When can I bring the girl to meet you?”

He hesitated, then said, “God has already given me someone.”

The words hung in the air.

Her eyes widened slightly. “Already?”

“Yes.”

She sat back. “You are talking to her?”

“I am.”

A breath of relief escaped her. “Ah. God is faithful. I shouldn’t have worried.”

“Yes you should not have worried. When God shows you a vision, pray till you hear him before rushing to take action. Rushing is the reason why many people hear from God and still make mistakes.”

She nodded, then cautiously asked, “Is she suitable?”

Michael’s expression softened. “She is exactly what God gave me, and we will find love. The Love of God will carry us…”

His mother studied him, searching his face. “This work you do,” she said quietly, “it is heavy. Love alone cannot carry it. You need a woman with sense, strength, and understanding. I did not marry your father because of love. Love came later.”

“I know,” Michael said.

“And this one,” she continued, “this girl you are talking to, does she understand the burden of ministry?”

He nodded. “God will help her, and I will be there for her, holding her hands till it comes naturally for her.”

Michael’s mum smiled faintly. “So you know how to talk to women after all.”

He laughed softly. “It’s not about talking. It’s about obedience.”

She stood. “Well,” she said, straightening her wrapper, “if this one doesn’t work,”

“Please,” he interrupted gently, “don’t keep anyone on standby.”

She paused, then sighed. “Alright.”

She turned toward the door. “I guess, I need to leave now.”

“In a moment,” he said. “I need to get dressed .”

She left him alone.

The room felt quieter after she was gone.

Michael waited until the door closed behind his mother before moving again.

He let out a slow breath, then reached for the face cap resting on the dresser and pulled it over his head, adjusting it just enough to shadow his face. He slipped into his sneakers, tying the laces without looking down, his movements automatic, practiced, as though his body already knew what needed to be done.

He picked up his phone from the bedside table and typed a message.

I’m on my way.

After a brief pause, he added another line.

You’re not alone.

He sent it, slid the phone back into his pocket, and stood still for a moment, feeling the quiet pull in his chest return, a steady certainty that though he was going to offer comfort today, it was going to be a catalyst.

Then he reached for the door and stepped out, but paused in the hallway as his phone buzzed again with a single message from Busayo that made his chest tighten.

Busayo: Please don’t judge me when you get here

What was she up to, he wondered?

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

Is Apostle moving too fast? Or when a man knows what he wants, why waste time?

Busayo doesn’t seem like the kind of woman whose life matches with that of Apostle Michael. Can this love really happen? Is there any hope for them?

Do you also believe that God can be very emphatic about the choice of a life partner? Please share your thoughts and experiences.

• Editor’s Comment