THE ONE HE KEPT FOR ME
Episode 52
The last guest finally left.
The laughter faded. The camera flashes stopped. The park lights dimmed into something softer.
What remained was silence.
Not the awkward kind. The peaceful kind.
Tony and Chiamaka sat on the wooden bench facing the lake, a little distance from where everything had just happened. The night breeze brushed against her skin gently, as though even nature was congratulating her.
Chiamaka stared at her left hand.
The ring was still there.
Still shining. Still real.
She lifted her hand slightly, turning it as the light caught the diamond again. A shaky laugh escaped her lips.
“So… this is my life now,” she whispered.
Tony smiled, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Looks like it.”
She turned to him slowly, eyes glossy.
“You planned ALL of this?”
“Your family… my people… colleagues… church members… even Samuel?”
Tony nodded, exhaling.
“I almost fainted at least five times.”
She laughed, then suddenly grew quiet.
“I knew something was happening,” she said softly.
“I just didn’t know it was this big.”
Tony swallowed.
“I was scared you’d find out,” he admitted.
“Every time you looked at me too hard, I thought my heart would jump out and confess.”
She shook her head, smiling.
“I accused you of cheating.”
Tony groaned.
“Please don’t remind me.”
They both laughed, then fell into silence again.
A deeper one this time.
Chiamaka finally spoke.
“You know… I prayed for this kind of love,” she said.
“Not noise. Not pressure. Not manipulation.”
“Just… peace.”
Tony turned fully to her.
“And you answered my prayers without even knowing it.”
She looked at him.
“When I met you, I was tired,” he continued quietly.
“Tired of pretending. Tired of proving. Tired of fighting.”
“But you loved God in a way that slowed me down.”
Her breath hitched.
“You didn’t rush me.
You didn’t demand perfection.
You just… stayed.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
“Tony…”
He reached for her hand carefully, reverently, as if still asking permission.
“I don’t just want to marry you,” he said.
“I want to serve God with you.
Build a home that feels safe.
Raise children who know peace.”
She nodded through tears.
“I’m scared,” she confessed.
“But I’m not afraid with you.”
They sat there for a moment, hands intertwined, hearts steady.
Then Tony spoke again.
“Can we pray?”
She smiled softly.
“Yes.”
They bowed their heads.
Tony prayed slowly, sincerely...no big grammar, no performance.
“God… thank You for her.
Thank You for trusting me with her heart.
Help me love her well.
Teach me patience.
Teach me sacrifice.
Teach me how to lead with humility.”
Chiamaka whispered through tears,
“Amen.”
She squeezed his hand.
As they stood to leave, she leaned into his chest, resting her head there just for a moment.
“You know what?” she murmured.
“What?”
“I still can’t believe you pulled this off.”
Tony laughed softly.
“Me too.”
They walked away from the park slowly.
Engaged.
Not because of a ring. But because God had written their names into the same story.
NEXT MORNING
Chiamaka woke up smiling.
Not the kind of smile you practice in front of the mirror.
The kind that sneaks up on you… soft, slow, uncontrollable.
Her eyes fluttered open, and for a brief moment, she forgot everything.
Then she moved her left hand.
And there it was.
The ring.
Simple. Elegant. Quietly loud.
Her breath caught.
“Oh God…” she whispered, sitting up slowly.
She lifted her hand closer to her face, watching the way the morning light kissed the stone. It still didn’t feel real. The proposal. The kneeling. The tears. The shouting. The prayers. The way Tony’s voice had trembled when he asked the question.
Will you marry me?
She pressed her palm to her chest.
“I’m engaged,” she said out loud.
The words tasted sweet… and heavy.
Her phone buzzed.
Once.
Twice.
Then it wouldn’t stop.
She frowned slightly and picked it up.
47 notifications.
Her heart skipped.
WhatsApp messages. Missed calls. Voice notes. Family group chats she had muted years ago suddenly alive again.
She opened one message.
Aunty Sade: “Congratulations my daughter!!! When is introduction?”
Another.
Cousin Ifunanya: “Ah ah! Engaged ke? Hope wedding is this year o 😂”
Another.
Church Mummy: “God has done it! Don’t delay what God has started.”
Her smile slowly faded.
Not because she wasn’t happy.
But because happiness was suddenly being escorted by expectations.
She dropped the phone on the bed and lay back, staring at the ceiling.
“Already?” she murmured.
Her phone rang again.
Mummy.
Chiamaka hesitated… then answered.
“Mummy…”
“My daughter!” her mother’s voice rang out warmly. “Congratulations! God has done well!”
Chiamaka smiled again. “Amen, Mummy.”
“We prayed for this. I’m happy for you.”
“Thank you, Mummy.”
A small pause.
Then....
“So when is introduction?”
Chiamaka blinked.
“Mummy… we just got engaged yesterday.”
“Yes, yes,” her mother said gently, “that’s why we need to start planning early. W are not getting younger. His people need to come.”
Her chest tightened.
“Mummy… Tony and I haven’t even discussed dates.”
“That’s why I’m telling you. Don’t allow things to drag. You know how men can be.”
Chiamaka swallowed.
“I hear you.”
“We will talk again later. Greet Tony for me.”
The call ended.
Chiamaka dropped the phone slowly.
She sat there in silence.
Joy… still present.
But now accompanied by pressure tapping gently on the door.
Tony hadn’t slept well.
Not because he regretted anything.
But because his mind refused to rest.
He sat at the dining table with a cup of tea growing cold in front of him, his phone buzzing beside it.
His mother stood by the kitchen counter, watching him.
“You did well,” she said finally.
Tony smiled faintly. “Thank you, Ma.”
“She’s a good girl.”
“I know.”
His father folded his newspaper slowly.
“So… what is the plan?”
Tony straightened.
“We’ll pray. We’ll plan. We’ll take it step by step.”
His father nodded. “Good. But remember, marriage is responsibility. Leadership. Provision.”
“I know, sir.”
His mother sighed. “Don’t take too long. People will start talking.”
Tony exhaled quietly.
Even joy had noise.
THAT EVENING
They met quietly later that day.
No decorations. No excitement. Just two people sitting across from each other, fingers intertwined.
Tony studied Chiamaka’s face.
“You’re quieter today.”
She smiled sadly. “I think reality came to greet me.”
He chuckled softly. “Same here.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
Then she spoke.
“Everyone is asking questions already.”
He nodded. “My parents too.”
She looked at him. “Are you scared?”
He thought for a moment. “No. But I feel the weight now.”
Her grip tightened around his hand.
“Me too.”
Tony leaned forward slightly. “Listen to me, Chiamaka. I didn’t propose because of pressure. And I won’t marry because of noise.”
She met his eyes.
“We’ll do this God’s way,” he continued. “At God’s pace.”
Tears gathered in her eyes.
“Thank you.”
He smiled. “We’re in this together.”
That night, separately but united in spirit, they prayed.
Not for speed.
Not for approval.
But for wisdom.
For strength.
For unity.
Because love is sweet…
But marriage requires grace.
As Chiamaka lay in bed that night, she touched her ring again.
The joy was still there.
But now it had depth.
Because she understood something new:
Love doesn’t end at yes.
That’s where the work begins.
And God… was already ahead of them.
The joy of engagement didn’t even last 48 hours but the calls continued.
Not congratulatory calls.
Strategic calls.
Chiamaka was in the kitchen helping her mother slice vegetables when her aunt walked in, phone pressed to her ear.
“Yes, yes… she’s at home,” Aunty Ifeoma said, nodding seriously.
Then she turned and handed the phone to Chiamaka.
“Your uncle wants to speak to you.”
Chiamaka wiped her hands nervously and took the phone.
“Good afternoon sir.”
“My daughter,” her uncle’s voice boomed warmly, “congratulations.”
“Thank you sir.”
“So… when are his people coming?”
There it was.
She closed her eyes briefly.
“Sir, we’re still discussing....”
“Discussing what?” he cut in gently but firmly. “Engagement has happened. The next step is introduction.”
“Yes sir. We know.”
“Good. Don’t let it drag. You’re not children.”
When the call ended, Chiamaka stood there quietly.
Her mother glanced at her.
“They’re right, you know,” she said softly. “Once engagement happens, people expect movement.”
“I know, Mummy,” Chiamaka replied.
But her chest felt tight.
Meanwhile,
Tony sat between his parents like a schoolboy called to the principal’s office.
His father cleared his throat.
“So. When do we go and see her people?”
Tony shifted. “Sir… we want to pray and plan properly.”
His mother nodded slowly. “Prayer is good. But structure is also good.”
His father leaned back. “Marriage is not romance alone. It’s alignment of families.”
Tony nodded respectfully.
“We understand. I’ll talk with her and get back to you.”
“Don’t delay,” his mother added. “People are already asking questions.”
Tony forced a smile.
Everyone wanted speed.
No one was asking if they were ready.
The first joint family conversation happened one week later.
Not physical yet...phone calls, back-and-forth messages, elders communicating through elders.
And that’s when things started to… shake.
Chiamaka’s family wanted:
• Early introduction
• Traditional wedding within the year
• No long courtship
Tony’s family wanted:
• Proper planning
• Financial readiness
• Time to observe and prepare
Then came the opinions.
“Why wait?”
“Why rush?”
“In our time...”
“This generation....”
Chiamaka felt like a rope being pulled from both ends.
One evening, she sat quietly on her bed, phone in hand, staring at unread messages.
Tony noticed her silence.
“Talk to me,” he said gently.
She exhaled. “Everyone is talking. Nobody is listening.”
He nodded slowly.
“My mum thinks we’re delaying. Your uncle thinks we’re moving too slowly. My dad is worried about finances. Your aunt thinks love is enough.”
She laughed weakly.
“And what do we think?” Tony asked.
She looked at him.
“I think… I’m overwhelmed.”
Tony reached for her hands.
“I am too.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
Then he said something that shifted everything:
“We need to decide whose voices matter most.”
She blinked.
“Our parents matter,” he continued. “Our families matter. But if we don’t stand together now, marriage will stretch us thin.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”
“Neither do I,” he replied softly. “But I don’t want to lose us trying to please everyone.”
That was the first hard truth.
The next meeting wasn’t with family.
It was between Tony and Chiamaka alone.
No phones. No elders. No opinions.
Just honesty.
They sat across from each other, not touching this time.
Tony spoke first.
“Let’s be clear about what we want.”
She nodded.
“I want a marriage built on peace,” she said.
“Not pressure. Not comparison. Not fear.”
Tony nodded.
“I want to lead responsibly,” he added.
“Not rushed by noise, but guided by God.”
They wrote things down.
Yes....literally.
Our boundaries:
• We will not accept dates forced on us
• We will agree before responding to family
• We will pray before major decisions
• We will speak as one voice
Then came the hard part.
Talking to family.
Tony spoke to his parents respectfully but firmly.
“Please trust us. We’re not delaying...we’re preparing.”
His father studied him for a long moment.
“You sound sure.”
“I am.”
Chiamaka spoke to her mother gently.
“Mummy… I need you on my side.”
Her mother sighed deeply.
“I just don’t want people to talk.”
“Mummy… people will always talk.”
Silence.
Then her mother nodded slowly.
“Okay. We’ll move at your pace.”
That night, Chiamaka cried quietly.
Not from pain.
From relief.
Engagement didn’t weaken their love.
It tested it.
They learned that:
• Love needs boundaries
• Unity must come before family opinions
• Marriage starts before the wedding
• God’s timing is not family WhatsApp timing
As Tony prayed that night, one thing became clear:
If they could survive this season together…
They could survive marriage.
Amaris loved mornings now.
Not because life was perfect...but because her heart was steady.
She sat by her window, Bible open on her lap, morning breeze brushing her curtains. Her phone lay beside her, screen lighting up softly.
Samuel.
Good morning, Amaris.
Psalm 37:23 came to mind when I prayed this morning.
She smiled before opening the verse.
“The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord…”
She replied slowly.
Good morning. That’s comforting. Thank you.
Their conversations were like this most days.
Not dramatic. Not excessive. Just… intentional.
Six months of consistency had taught her something powerful:
Peace can be romantic too.
They met that afternoon at the same café where it all started.
Not because it was symbolic.
But because it felt safe.
Samuel arrived first, as usual, sitting by the window with his camera resting beside him. When Amaris walked in, he stood instinctively...not out of performance, but respect.
“You look well,” he said simply.
“So do you.”
They sat.
No awkwardness.
“I might be traveling next week,” Samuel said casually, stirring his drink.
“Oh?”
“Just a short photography retreat. Two days.”
Amaris nodded slowly.
“Thank you for telling me.”
He smiled softly.
“I wanted you to know.”
That was Samuel.
Always informing. Never disappearing. Never leaving room for doubt.
Silence settled between them...comfortable, not heavy.
Then Amaris spoke.
“Do you ever feel like… people expect more from us?”
Samuel looked up.
“More?”
“Faster,” she clarified. “Bigger. Louder.”
He leaned back thoughtfully.
“Yes. But I don’t feel pressured.”
She searched his face.
“Why?”
“Because I’m not dating for noise,” he said calmly.
“I’m dating for alignment.”
Her breath caught slightly.
“And alignment takes time.”
She nodded slowly.
“That makes sense.”
Then she hesitated.
“Samuel… what are we building?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Not because he didn’t know....but because he chose his words carefully.
“We’re building trust,” he said.
“Friendship.”
“Spiritual intimacy.”
“And if God permits… marriage.”
Her heart softened.
No promises. No timelines. Just intention.
And that felt safe.
Later that evening, as Samuel walked her to her car, a man greeted her loudly.
“Amaris! Long time!”
Samuel stepped back instinctively..not possessive, just observant.
The man was friendly. Too friendly.
After he left, Samuel didn’t interrogate her.
He just asked gently:
“Do you feel safe around him?”
She smiled.
“Yes. He’s an old acquaintance.”
Samuel nodded.
“Okay.”
That was it.
No insecurity. No suspicion. No ego.
And in that moment, Amaris realized something quietly powerful:
This man trusted her.
That night, Amaris journaled.
I used to think love had to be loud to be real.
But Samuel loves like someone who isn’t afraid of tomorrow.
She paused, pen hovering.
I don’t feel rushed.
I don’t feel trapped.
I feel… covered.
She closed her journal and whispered a prayer.
“God… if this is from You, help us protect it.”
While Tony and Chiamaka were learning to stand firm against pressure…
Amaris and Samuel were learning something different:
How to grow quietly without fear.
And sometimes…
That’s the most powerful kind of love.
TO BE CONTINUED… ✨
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Episode 52
The last guest finally left.
The laughter faded. The camera flashes stopped. The park lights dimmed into something softer.
What remained was silence.
Not the awkward kind. The peaceful kind.
Tony and Chiamaka sat on the wooden bench facing the lake, a little distance from where everything had just happened. The night breeze brushed against her skin gently, as though even nature was congratulating her.
Chiamaka stared at her left hand.
The ring was still there.
Still shining. Still real.
She lifted her hand slightly, turning it as the light caught the diamond again. A shaky laugh escaped her lips.
“So… this is my life now,” she whispered.
Tony smiled, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Looks like it.”
She turned to him slowly, eyes glossy.
“You planned ALL of this?”
“Your family… my people… colleagues… church members… even Samuel?”
Tony nodded, exhaling.
“I almost fainted at least five times.”
She laughed, then suddenly grew quiet.
“I knew something was happening,” she said softly.
“I just didn’t know it was this big.”
Tony swallowed.
“I was scared you’d find out,” he admitted.
“Every time you looked at me too hard, I thought my heart would jump out and confess.”
She shook her head, smiling.
“I accused you of cheating.”
Tony groaned.
“Please don’t remind me.”
They both laughed, then fell into silence again.
A deeper one this time.
Chiamaka finally spoke.
“You know… I prayed for this kind of love,” she said.
“Not noise. Not pressure. Not manipulation.”
“Just… peace.”
Tony turned fully to her.
“And you answered my prayers without even knowing it.”
She looked at him.
“When I met you, I was tired,” he continued quietly.
“Tired of pretending. Tired of proving. Tired of fighting.”
“But you loved God in a way that slowed me down.”
Her breath hitched.
“You didn’t rush me.
You didn’t demand perfection.
You just… stayed.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
“Tony…”
He reached for her hand carefully, reverently, as if still asking permission.
“I don’t just want to marry you,” he said.
“I want to serve God with you.
Build a home that feels safe.
Raise children who know peace.”
She nodded through tears.
“I’m scared,” she confessed.
“But I’m not afraid with you.”
They sat there for a moment, hands intertwined, hearts steady.
Then Tony spoke again.
“Can we pray?”
She smiled softly.
“Yes.”
They bowed their heads.
Tony prayed slowly, sincerely...no big grammar, no performance.
“God… thank You for her.
Thank You for trusting me with her heart.
Help me love her well.
Teach me patience.
Teach me sacrifice.
Teach me how to lead with humility.”
Chiamaka whispered through tears,
“Amen.”
She squeezed his hand.
As they stood to leave, she leaned into his chest, resting her head there just for a moment.
“You know what?” she murmured.
“What?”
“I still can’t believe you pulled this off.”
Tony laughed softly.
“Me too.”
They walked away from the park slowly.
Engaged.
Not because of a ring. But because God had written their names into the same story.
NEXT MORNING
Chiamaka woke up smiling.
Not the kind of smile you practice in front of the mirror.
The kind that sneaks up on you… soft, slow, uncontrollable.
Her eyes fluttered open, and for a brief moment, she forgot everything.
Then she moved her left hand.
And there it was.
The ring.
Simple. Elegant. Quietly loud.
Her breath caught.
“Oh God…” she whispered, sitting up slowly.
She lifted her hand closer to her face, watching the way the morning light kissed the stone. It still didn’t feel real. The proposal. The kneeling. The tears. The shouting. The prayers. The way Tony’s voice had trembled when he asked the question.
Will you marry me?
She pressed her palm to her chest.
“I’m engaged,” she said out loud.
The words tasted sweet… and heavy.
Her phone buzzed.
Once.
Twice.
Then it wouldn’t stop.
She frowned slightly and picked it up.
47 notifications.
Her heart skipped.
WhatsApp messages. Missed calls. Voice notes. Family group chats she had muted years ago suddenly alive again.
She opened one message.
Aunty Sade: “Congratulations my daughter!!! When is introduction?”
Another.
Cousin Ifunanya: “Ah ah! Engaged ke? Hope wedding is this year o 😂”
Another.
Church Mummy: “God has done it! Don’t delay what God has started.”
Her smile slowly faded.
Not because she wasn’t happy.
But because happiness was suddenly being escorted by expectations.
She dropped the phone on the bed and lay back, staring at the ceiling.
“Already?” she murmured.
Her phone rang again.
Mummy.
Chiamaka hesitated… then answered.
“Mummy…”
“My daughter!” her mother’s voice rang out warmly. “Congratulations! God has done well!”
Chiamaka smiled again. “Amen, Mummy.”
“We prayed for this. I’m happy for you.”
“Thank you, Mummy.”
A small pause.
Then....
“So when is introduction?”
Chiamaka blinked.
“Mummy… we just got engaged yesterday.”
“Yes, yes,” her mother said gently, “that’s why we need to start planning early. W are not getting younger. His people need to come.”
Her chest tightened.
“Mummy… Tony and I haven’t even discussed dates.”
“That’s why I’m telling you. Don’t allow things to drag. You know how men can be.”
Chiamaka swallowed.
“I hear you.”
“We will talk again later. Greet Tony for me.”
The call ended.
Chiamaka dropped the phone slowly.
She sat there in silence.
Joy… still present.
But now accompanied by pressure tapping gently on the door.
Tony hadn’t slept well.
Not because he regretted anything.
But because his mind refused to rest.
He sat at the dining table with a cup of tea growing cold in front of him, his phone buzzing beside it.
His mother stood by the kitchen counter, watching him.
“You did well,” she said finally.
Tony smiled faintly. “Thank you, Ma.”
“She’s a good girl.”
“I know.”
His father folded his newspaper slowly.
“So… what is the plan?”
Tony straightened.
“We’ll pray. We’ll plan. We’ll take it step by step.”
His father nodded. “Good. But remember, marriage is responsibility. Leadership. Provision.”
“I know, sir.”
His mother sighed. “Don’t take too long. People will start talking.”
Tony exhaled quietly.
Even joy had noise.
THAT EVENING
They met quietly later that day.
No decorations. No excitement. Just two people sitting across from each other, fingers intertwined.
Tony studied Chiamaka’s face.
“You’re quieter today.”
She smiled sadly. “I think reality came to greet me.”
He chuckled softly. “Same here.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
Then she spoke.
“Everyone is asking questions already.”
He nodded. “My parents too.”
She looked at him. “Are you scared?”
He thought for a moment. “No. But I feel the weight now.”
Her grip tightened around his hand.
“Me too.”
Tony leaned forward slightly. “Listen to me, Chiamaka. I didn’t propose because of pressure. And I won’t marry because of noise.”
She met his eyes.
“We’ll do this God’s way,” he continued. “At God’s pace.”
Tears gathered in her eyes.
“Thank you.”
He smiled. “We’re in this together.”
That night, separately but united in spirit, they prayed.
Not for speed.
Not for approval.
But for wisdom.
For strength.
For unity.
Because love is sweet…
But marriage requires grace.
As Chiamaka lay in bed that night, she touched her ring again.
The joy was still there.
But now it had depth.
Because she understood something new:
Love doesn’t end at yes.
That’s where the work begins.
And God… was already ahead of them.
The joy of engagement didn’t even last 48 hours but the calls continued.
Not congratulatory calls.
Strategic calls.
Chiamaka was in the kitchen helping her mother slice vegetables when her aunt walked in, phone pressed to her ear.
“Yes, yes… she’s at home,” Aunty Ifeoma said, nodding seriously.
Then she turned and handed the phone to Chiamaka.
“Your uncle wants to speak to you.”
Chiamaka wiped her hands nervously and took the phone.
“Good afternoon sir.”
“My daughter,” her uncle’s voice boomed warmly, “congratulations.”
“Thank you sir.”
“So… when are his people coming?”
There it was.
She closed her eyes briefly.
“Sir, we’re still discussing....”
“Discussing what?” he cut in gently but firmly. “Engagement has happened. The next step is introduction.”
“Yes sir. We know.”
“Good. Don’t let it drag. You’re not children.”
When the call ended, Chiamaka stood there quietly.
Her mother glanced at her.
“They’re right, you know,” she said softly. “Once engagement happens, people expect movement.”
“I know, Mummy,” Chiamaka replied.
But her chest felt tight.
Meanwhile,
Tony sat between his parents like a schoolboy called to the principal’s office.
His father cleared his throat.
“So. When do we go and see her people?”
Tony shifted. “Sir… we want to pray and plan properly.”
His mother nodded slowly. “Prayer is good. But structure is also good.”
His father leaned back. “Marriage is not romance alone. It’s alignment of families.”
Tony nodded respectfully.
“We understand. I’ll talk with her and get back to you.”
“Don’t delay,” his mother added. “People are already asking questions.”
Tony forced a smile.
Everyone wanted speed.
No one was asking if they were ready.
The first joint family conversation happened one week later.
Not physical yet...phone calls, back-and-forth messages, elders communicating through elders.
And that’s when things started to… shake.
Chiamaka’s family wanted:
• Early introduction
• Traditional wedding within the year
• No long courtship
Tony’s family wanted:
• Proper planning
• Financial readiness
• Time to observe and prepare
Then came the opinions.
“Why wait?”
“Why rush?”
“In our time...”
“This generation....”
Chiamaka felt like a rope being pulled from both ends.
One evening, she sat quietly on her bed, phone in hand, staring at unread messages.
Tony noticed her silence.
“Talk to me,” he said gently.
She exhaled. “Everyone is talking. Nobody is listening.”
He nodded slowly.
“My mum thinks we’re delaying. Your uncle thinks we’re moving too slowly. My dad is worried about finances. Your aunt thinks love is enough.”
She laughed weakly.
“And what do we think?” Tony asked.
She looked at him.
“I think… I’m overwhelmed.”
Tony reached for her hands.
“I am too.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
Then he said something that shifted everything:
“We need to decide whose voices matter most.”
She blinked.
“Our parents matter,” he continued. “Our families matter. But if we don’t stand together now, marriage will stretch us thin.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”
“Neither do I,” he replied softly. “But I don’t want to lose us trying to please everyone.”
That was the first hard truth.
The next meeting wasn’t with family.
It was between Tony and Chiamaka alone.
No phones. No elders. No opinions.
Just honesty.
They sat across from each other, not touching this time.
Tony spoke first.
“Let’s be clear about what we want.”
She nodded.
“I want a marriage built on peace,” she said.
“Not pressure. Not comparison. Not fear.”
Tony nodded.
“I want to lead responsibly,” he added.
“Not rushed by noise, but guided by God.”
They wrote things down.
Yes....literally.
Our boundaries:
• We will not accept dates forced on us
• We will agree before responding to family
• We will pray before major decisions
• We will speak as one voice
Then came the hard part.
Talking to family.
Tony spoke to his parents respectfully but firmly.
“Please trust us. We’re not delaying...we’re preparing.”
His father studied him for a long moment.
“You sound sure.”
“I am.”
Chiamaka spoke to her mother gently.
“Mummy… I need you on my side.”
Her mother sighed deeply.
“I just don’t want people to talk.”
“Mummy… people will always talk.”
Silence.
Then her mother nodded slowly.
“Okay. We’ll move at your pace.”
That night, Chiamaka cried quietly.
Not from pain.
From relief.
Engagement didn’t weaken their love.
It tested it.
They learned that:
• Love needs boundaries
• Unity must come before family opinions
• Marriage starts before the wedding
• God’s timing is not family WhatsApp timing
As Tony prayed that night, one thing became clear:
If they could survive this season together…
They could survive marriage.
Amaris loved mornings now.
Not because life was perfect...but because her heart was steady.
She sat by her window, Bible open on her lap, morning breeze brushing her curtains. Her phone lay beside her, screen lighting up softly.
Samuel.
Good morning, Amaris.
Psalm 37:23 came to mind when I prayed this morning.
She smiled before opening the verse.
“The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord…”
She replied slowly.
Good morning. That’s comforting. Thank you.
Their conversations were like this most days.
Not dramatic. Not excessive. Just… intentional.
Six months of consistency had taught her something powerful:
Peace can be romantic too.
They met that afternoon at the same café where it all started.
Not because it was symbolic.
But because it felt safe.
Samuel arrived first, as usual, sitting by the window with his camera resting beside him. When Amaris walked in, he stood instinctively...not out of performance, but respect.
“You look well,” he said simply.
“So do you.”
They sat.
No awkwardness.
“I might be traveling next week,” Samuel said casually, stirring his drink.
“Oh?”
“Just a short photography retreat. Two days.”
Amaris nodded slowly.
“Thank you for telling me.”
He smiled softly.
“I wanted you to know.”
That was Samuel.
Always informing. Never disappearing. Never leaving room for doubt.
Silence settled between them...comfortable, not heavy.
Then Amaris spoke.
“Do you ever feel like… people expect more from us?”
Samuel looked up.
“More?”
“Faster,” she clarified. “Bigger. Louder.”
He leaned back thoughtfully.
“Yes. But I don’t feel pressured.”
She searched his face.
“Why?”
“Because I’m not dating for noise,” he said calmly.
“I’m dating for alignment.”
Her breath caught slightly.
“And alignment takes time.”
She nodded slowly.
“That makes sense.”
Then she hesitated.
“Samuel… what are we building?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Not because he didn’t know....but because he chose his words carefully.
“We’re building trust,” he said.
“Friendship.”
“Spiritual intimacy.”
“And if God permits… marriage.”
Her heart softened.
No promises. No timelines. Just intention.
And that felt safe.
Later that evening, as Samuel walked her to her car, a man greeted her loudly.
“Amaris! Long time!”
Samuel stepped back instinctively..not possessive, just observant.
The man was friendly. Too friendly.
After he left, Samuel didn’t interrogate her.
He just asked gently:
“Do you feel safe around him?”
She smiled.
“Yes. He’s an old acquaintance.”
Samuel nodded.
“Okay.”
That was it.
No insecurity. No suspicion. No ego.
And in that moment, Amaris realized something quietly powerful:
This man trusted her.
That night, Amaris journaled.
I used to think love had to be loud to be real.
But Samuel loves like someone who isn’t afraid of tomorrow.
She paused, pen hovering.
I don’t feel rushed.
I don’t feel trapped.
I feel… covered.
She closed her journal and whispered a prayer.
“God… if this is from You, help us protect it.”
While Tony and Chiamaka were learning to stand firm against pressure…
Amaris and Samuel were learning something different:
How to grow quietly without fear.
And sometimes…
That’s the most powerful kind of love.
TO BE CONTINUED… ✨
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