Hiiii babiesss. Happy Public Holiday. Enjoy this bonus chapter 🤭🤭
I stayed up late till 12am so I could suprise you guys. Yesss!!! I love y’all that much.
The silence after a breakup is loud. It echoes in the small spaces of life. In the empty moments where a phone used to ring. In the places where laughter once lived.
For Valerie, the silence felt like a storm that refused to end. She had returned home to Benin City, staying in her childhood room at her mother’s house. The same room with cream-colored curtains and a wooden dresser that had been there since secondary school.
Everything felt familiar. Yet nothing felt the same.
The first week after the breakup, she cried almost every night. Tammy was always on a call with her, she felt so bad that she was not in Benin with her. Sometimes after Tammy goes off, Valerie would hold her phone. Scroll through old chats. Voice notes. Memories.
Then remember. He had blocked her. Gone. Just like that.
“Omo…” she whispered one night.
Her chest ached again. She sat up in bed and wiped her face. At some point the pain began turning into something else. She had questions. Not about Purity but about God.
She had always believed God guided relationships. So why had this one collapsed like that?
That night she knelt beside her bed. She did not have the strength for long grammar.
“God… I don’t understand.” She continued.
“You brought him into my life.” Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“And now he’s gone.” Her shoulders shook.
“If this was you… show me.”Her voice broke.
“And if it wasn’t… please heal me.”
She stayed there for a long time—praying, crying and listening.
Then slowly… something settled inside her heart. Just a whisper inside.
Talk to your mother.
Valerie frowned. “My mom?”
Yes, your mom. Open your heart.
She sighed. That would not be easy. Valerie had always been the strong one. The one who solved problems alone. She didn’t know how it’ll seem if she told her mom what was happening but she chose to obey.
That morning she found her mother in the kitchen cooking.The smell of pepper soup filled the air.
Her mother glanced up. “I can see that you slept well. That’s good”
Valerie hesitated. “Mom…” Her voice trembled.
Her mother paused. “Mmm?”
“I need to talk to you about something .”
The older woman turned off the stove immediately. She knew Val was hurting but she had decided not to press her to open up. Her daughter was just like her father— strong willed and always ready to handle stuff on their own.
“Let’s go to the parlour.”
They sat in the living room. For a moment Valerie couldn’t speak.
Then everything came out. She told her of the relationship, the long distance, the breakup, the blocking, the silence.
She cried again. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”
Her mother listened quietly without interrupting.
When Valerie finished, she wiped her eyes. “Mom… do you think I’m not strong enough for ministry?”
Her mother’s expression softened. Then she sighed deeply.
“Osas, Let me tell you something.”
Valerie looked up. “You know your father was a full-time pastor.”
“Yes.”
“What you don’t know… is how hard it was for me.”
Valerie blinked. She did. She knew how hard it was for her mom. She just didn’t let her mom know.
Her mother continued slowly. “When we first married, ministry was everything.”
She looked away slightly. “Your father would travel constantly. Church meetings, crusades, counseling people day and night.”
She smiled sadly. “I loved him. But I didn’t understand the balance.”
Valerie leaned forward.
Her mother sighed. “In the first year of our marriage, i ran.”
“I left for a while.” Silence filled the room.
“I felt overwhelmed. I thought peace meant giving him distance.”
Valerie stared at her. “I didn’t know that.”
“I never told you.”
Her mother continued quietly. “But God didn’t leave me alone.”
She smiled slightly. “He convicted me.”
“I realized I didn’t know how to carry ministry life.” Valerie listened carefully.
“So what did you do?” She asked, fully engrossed.
“I sought help.” Her mother smiled again.
“There was a woman who helped me.”
“Who?”
“A pastor’s wife.”
Her mother nodded. “Her name is Pastor Josephine.”
Valerie leaned forward.
“She counseled me.”
“How?”
“She taught me that ministry marriages need wisdom.”
Her mother’s voice grew firmer. “You can’t just love a man called by God. You must also grow into the calling with him.”
“I didn’t know how to do that back then,” her mother said. “But I learned.”
She reached for Valerie’s hand.
“And you will learn too. Your dad did not know better and he refused to seek counsel from elders that is why our marriage ended 15 years after you were born. I tried from my end but he was not willing to listen to anybody and he left us because he felt I was asking for too much. From what you’ve told me, I believe Purity is different. The young man sounds like someone willing to learn. I think he is just scared”
Valerie swallowed. “What if it’s already over?”
Her mother smiled gently.
“Then God will still use the lessons to teach you something. Everything works together for God to those who love God”
Later that night Valerie returned to her room. She sat quietly. Then she knelt again.
“Abba…”
Her voice trembled. “What are You teaching me? I am confused, tired, distraught. I don’t even know what to do”
Seek Me deeply.
Her eyes closed. She knew she needed time away from the noise. She needed to go back to her source because this pain in her heart was a lot and she refused to believe that it was all over.
The next three days were devoted to her retreat. She spent time with God. She stayed away from social media, her family, friends and everything. She just spent time asking in the love of God. She spent time seeking his face. She cried, prayed, fasted, studied her bible, journaled and listened to sermons.
On the second night something shifted during prayer. A clear impression formed in her heart.
Open your heart to correction and newness.
Her breath caught.
I will never give you a load you cannot bear.
Tears slid down her cheeks again.
“Abba help me. It is hard. So hard. I saw Mom struggle to fit in even when she claimed she understood, I saw how dad barely had time for us, I saw how he was always so focused on his members that he did not value family. I don’t want that with Purity or any other man you will give me.”
Trust me. Just trust me, my child.
And that, she decided to do.
The hills outside the discipleship center were quiet that evening. Purity sat alone under a tree with his bible open and a very heavy heart.
“God…” His voice cracked.
“I am here again and I know I did not seek you before making that decision and for that, I am sorry?”
He continued. “I didn’t want to hurt her.”
His hands trembled. “But I did.”
The wind moved softly across the grass. Inside his heart he sensed a firm response.
Be wise.
He frowned.
“Wise?”
Choose what I chose for you.
His heart raced. A scripture dropped in his mind.
A wise man will hear, and will increase learning; and a man of understanding shall attain unto wise counsels" (Proverbs 1:5)
“What does that mean?”
“God, please…”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “I need clarity.”
Eventually he reached for his phone. One person came to mind.
His mentor. He called Pastor Ade Adebayo.
The call connected.
“Good evening, Sir.”
“Purity.”
His voice sounded calm as always.
“I need your help.”
“Talk to me.”
Purity explained everything to him.
Then Pastor Ade spoke slowly. “Can I tell you something honestly?”
“Yes sir.”
“I had a vision about you.”
Purity’s heart skipped. “What kind of vision?”
“I saw you walking away from a present God gave you.” His chest tightened.
“When I prayed about it, God gave me a word for you. He said you are choosing ministry over something he intended to strengthen the ministry.”
Purity felt cold. ‘’Sir…”
Pastor Ade continued.
“Let me remind you of something.”
He spoke carefully. “The order of life is simple.”
Purity listened.
“First God.”
“Then your wife and family.”
“Then ministry.”
The words struck deeply. “If God asks you to move toward a woman… it means He knows why.”
Purity’s throat tightened. “Sir… I was afraid.”
Pastor Ade’s voice softened. “Exactly and that’s why you ran.”
The truth hit hard. Purity lowered his head. “I didn’t want to lose my calling.”
Pastor Ade replied gently. “You will lose more if you ignore God’s design.”
Tears filled Purity’s eyes. “Sir… I blocked her.”
“I know.”
“How do I fix this?”
“First… seek God again and when He shows you the path… be brave enough to follow it.”
Pastor Ade prayed for him and counseled him then the call ended. Purity sat alone. The reality crashed over him. He had broken something precious because of fear.
He bent forward and cried. Not quiet tears but deep and painful sobs.
“O God…” His voice cracked. “I need you now more than ever”
A week later Valerie returned to Lagos. Her mother’s friend, Pastor Laura, had invited her to a conference. A gathering for women preparing for ministry marriages. The speakers were powerful.
Among them were: Pastor Laju Iren, Pastor Funke Adejumo and Debola Deji-Kurunmi
Valerie almost didn’t go. She had no reason to go. Purity and her were done so what was the point? But something inside told her she needed it. Probably for her own ministry.
She got there ten minutes before it started. The hall was full. Women from different churches, different cities with different stories.
When Pastor Funke Adejumo began teaching, the room became electric. She spoke passionately about marriage and ministry.
“Marriage is not a competition with God,” she said. “It is a partnership with His purpose.”
Valerie wrote quickly in her notebook.
“You cannot marry a man of purpose and expect an ordinary life,” Pastor Funke continued.
“You must grow your capacity.” The words pierced Valerie’s heart.
Then she added something powerful.
“A woman who wants peace must also learn strength.” Tears filled Valerie’s eyes again.
Later Pastor Laju Iren spoke. Her tone was gentle but clear.
She explained how unresolved wounds can sabotage godly relationships.
“If you carry fear into love,” she said, “you will interpret everything through pain.”
Valerie felt exposed. After the session, it was breakout time— she waited in line.
Eventually she reached Pastor Laju.
Her voice trembled. “Ma… can I ask something?”
PL smiled warmly. “Of course.”
Valerie briefly explained her breakup.
She listened carefully. Then she said softly: “First thing you need is healing.”
She leaned forward slightly. “Have you spoken to a therapist?”
Valerie blinked. “No, ma.”
“You should.”
The advice surprised her. “Faith and therapy are not enemies oo,” she added. “They work together.”
Then she prayed for her. And right there Valerie cried again. Afterwards, she gave her the contact of a therapist she personally recommend to people.
Later that day she met Debola Deji-Kurunmi (DDK). DDK spoke about purpose and identity. Her teaching was powerful.
“You cannot build destiny on broken self-worth,” she said.
“Your first assignment is becoming whole.”
Valerie wrote every word. After the session DDK prayed with her too.
“God is not done with your story,” she said gently.
“Sometimes the breaking is preparation.”
By the end of the conference Valerie felt lighter. She was still unsure, still healing, but she was hopeful. Before leaving she signed up for mentorship under Pastor Laura’s ministry for pastors’ wives.
That night she whispered a prayer.
“God… whether or not Purity comes back… build me into the woman you designed.”
And for the first time since the breakup… Her heart felt peaceful.
The therapist’s office didn’t look like what Valerie expected.
There were no cold white walls. No intimidating desk separating them. Just two soft chairs facing each other, a small wooden table between them, and a shelf lined with books—faith, psychology, trauma, identity.
A quiet kind of place. The kind that didn’t force you to speak… But somehow made silence feel loud.
Valerie sat upright, fingers interlocked on her lap. She looked composed and guarded. She was not ready to be toyed with.
The therapist smiled gently.
“Valerie, welcome. I’m glad you came.”
Valerie nodded. “Thank you.”
“Before we start,” the therapist said softly, “I like to invite God into this space. Would you be comfortable if we prayed?”
Valerie hesitated for half a second. Then nodded again.
“Yes.”
The therapist reached across slightly.
“Father,” she began, voice calm and steady, “We ask that You take control of this space. You see Valerie. You know her story. You know the places she has hidden, even from herself. Today, we ask for truth, for healing, and for courage. Let Your light reach the places that hurt. In Jesus’ name.”
“Amen,” Valerie whispered.
Something about that prayer made her chest feel… tight.
“So,” the therapist began, “tell me about you.”
Valerie smiled faintly. The default answer came easily.
“I’m a fashion designer. I work with my church media team. I—”
The therapist gently interrupted.
“No,” she said softly. “Not what you do.”
Valerie blinked. A pause stretched.
The question felt… heavier than it should.
“Tell me about you.”
Valerie shifted slightly in her seat.
“I don’t really know what you mean.”
“That’s okay,” the therapist said. “We’ll find it together. What do people say about you?”
Another pause.
“People say I’m strong.”
It slipped out.
The therapist nodded. “Do you agree with them?”
Valerie let out a small breath. “I don’t have a choice.”
“Why not?”
That question hit differently.
Valerie’s fingers tightened slightly.
“I’ve always been that way.”
“Always?”
Valerie’s gaze dropped.
“…Yes.”
The therapist leaned forward just a little.
“Who needed you to be strong?”
And just like that, Something cracked.
Valerie swallowed.
“My family,” she said quietly.
“Tell me about them.”
She exhaled slowly.
“My dad is a pastor.”
The therapist nodded, encouraging her to continue.
“And… growing up, everything had to be… right. Perfect. Presentable.”
“In what way?”
Valerie let out a dry laugh.
“You know how it is. Pastor’s child.” She shrugged lightly. “You don’t embarrass the family. You don’t act out. You don’t break down in public.”
The therapist’s voice remained soft.
“And in private?”
Valerie hesitated. Her throat tightened slightly.
“…You still don’t.”
Silence filled the room.
The therapist didn’t rush her nor interrupt.
“Who did you run to when things were hard?” the therapist asked gently.
Valerie gave a small, almost amused smile.
“No one.”
“Not even your parents?” She shook her head.
“My dad was always busy with church. Counseling people. Helping others. My mom…” she paused, choosing her words carefully. “…my mom then, she believed in strength. She has changed now though”
“What does that mean to you?”
Valerie’s voice dropped.
“It means you don’t cry unless it’s necessary.”
“And what qualifies as necessary?”
Valerie didn’t answer immediately.
“Death. You only cry when someone dies”
The therapist’s eyes softened. “That’s a heavy standard for a child.”
Valerie shrugged again. “It made me who I am.”
“Yes,” the therapist said gently. “But we need to ask… did it also hurt you?”
That question lingered. Valerie looked away. Her chest felt tight again.
“I don’t think about it like that.”
“I know,” the therapist replied. “But we will.”
By the second session, the next week, Valerie was less guarded. She was not completely open.
But… softer around the edges. Still controlled. Still careful. But something had shifted.
They prayed again before starting.
This time, Valerie’s “Amen” was stronger.
“I want to go a little deeper today,” the therapist said.
Valerie nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
The therapist studied her for a moment. “Tell me about your last relationship.”
Valerie froze. Just slightly. But the therapist noticed.
“You don’t have to rush,” she added gently.
Valerie exhaled. “It was… good.”
“Good?”
“Yes.”
“What made it good?”
Valerie’s lips curved faintly. “He was kind. Intentional. God-fearing.” A small pause. “He saw me.”
“And how did that feel?”
Her voice softened. “…New.”
The therapist nodded. “Did you trust him?”
Valerie hesitated. “…I was learning to.”
“Learning,” the therapist repeated. “Why not fully?”
Valerie looked down at her hands. “I don’t like depending on people.”
“Why?”
The question came quickly this time.
And Valerie answered just as fast
“Because people fail.”
“Who failed you first?”
Valerie’s lips parted slightly. But no words came out. Her eyes stung. She blinked quickly.
“I don’t know,” she said, but her voice wasn’t convincing.
The therapist waited. And then softly
“Was it your father?”
Tears filled Valerie’s eyes instantly. She looked away, shaking her head slightly.
“I’m not blaming him,” she said quickly.
“I didn’t ask you to blame him,” the therapist replied gently. “I asked if he hurt you.”
A tear slipped down Valerie’s cheek. She wiped it quickly.
“He was a good man,” she whispered.
“I believe you.”
“He loved God.”
“I believe that too.”
Valerie’s voice cracked.
“But he wasn’t… there.”
The words fell like weight.
And suddenly her composure was gone.
“I needed him,” she said, her voice trembling now. “There were times I wanted to talk to him, but he was always… busy. Church members. Counseling. Prayers. Programs.” Her breathing grew uneven. “And I told myself it was okay because it was God’s work.”
Tears streamed down her face now.
“But I was a child,” she whispered.
The therapist’s voice was steady.
“Yes. You were.”
Valerie shook her head, crying now.
“So I learned to handle things myself. I learned not to need anyone. Because needing people felt like… disappointment waiting to happen.”
The room was quiet except for her sobs.
The therapist handed her a tissue.
“Valerie,” she said softly, “that little girl made a decision.”
Valerie sniffed. “What decision?”
“That depending on people is unsafe.”
Valerie nodded slowly, tears still falling.
“Yes.”
“And that decision… followed you into adulthood.”
“Let’s talk about your relationship again,” the therapist continued gently.
Valerie wiped her face. “Okay…”
“Do you think it’s possible that he felt that distance?”
Valerie frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”
The therapist chose her words carefully.
“You said he was intentional. Present. He saw you.”
“Yes.”
“But did you fully let him in?”
Valerie’s heart started beating faster.
“I tried,” she said weakly.
“I believe you,” the therapist replied. “But trying and allowing are not always the same.”
Valerie looked down again.
“I didn’t want to lose myself,” she whispered.
“And what does losing yourself look like to you?”
“…Depending too much.”
The therapist nodded.
“And what if,” she said slowly, “he interpreted that as rejection?”
Valerie’s head snapped up slightly.
“No”
But the protest died quickly.
Because deep down… She wasn’t sure.
The therapist continued.
“Men, especially emotionally aware men, don’t just need love. They need to feel needed.”
Valerie swallowed.
“And when they don’t… they sometimes withdraw.”
Her chest tightened. “You’re saying I pushed him away?”
“I’m saying,” the therapist replied gently, “he may have felt shut out.”
Valerie’s breathing became uneven again.
Tears welled up once more.
“I didn’t mean to,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“I was just… protecting myself.”
“And he,” the therapist said softly, “may have been protecting himself too.”
That broke her. Completely. Valerie covered her face as she cried.
“God…” she sobbed. “I didn’t know.”
The therapist leaned forward slightly.
“Valerie, listen to me.”
She looked up, eyes red. “You are not a bad person.”
A shaky breath. “But you are a guarded one.”
Tears rolled down again.
“And guards don’t just keep pain out,” the therapist continued gently.
“They also keep love from coming in fully.”
“Can we pray?” the therapist asked softly.
Valerie nodded immediately. This time… desperate.
The therapist took a deep breath.
“Father, thank You for Valerie. Thank You because You see her heart— the strength, the resilience, the survival. But Lord, You also see the little girl inside her who learned to survive without being held.”
Valerie’s shoulders shook.
“Today, we bring that child before You. The one who felt unseen. The one who needed her father and didn’t always have him.”
Valerie broke down again.
“Lord, heal that place.”
“Teach her that depending on people is not weakness.”
“Teach her that love is not a trap.”
“Teach her that she is safe, with You first… and then with the right people You bring into her life.”
Valerie whispered through tears—
“Amen…”
After the Session, Valerie didn’t leave immediately.
She just quietly sat there.
“Why do I feel like this?” she asked softly.
The therapist smiled gently. “Because you stopped pretending.”
Valerie let out a small, tired laugh.
“I feel exposed.”
“That’s where healing begins.”
As she stepped out of the office that day, the world felt… different. Not easier. But clearer.
That night, sitting on her balcony again, Valerie held her journal. Her therapist encouraged her to write down her thoughts. She stared at a blank page for a long time.
Then finally wrote
“I am not as strong as I thought.”
She paused, then added,
“But maybe that’s not a bad thing.”
And for the first time in a long while…
She allowed herself to sit in the quiet without pretending she was okay.
A month had passed since the breakup. Thirty long days. Days that felt heavier than they should.
For Purity, Rwanda had started to feel different. The hills were still beautiful, the air still clean. The ministry work was still meaningful but something inside him refused to settle.
He had prayed, fasted, sought counsel.
Yet one truth kept pressing on his heart like a quiet drumbeat.
You ran.
He sat outside the discipleship center one evening, Bible resting on his lap, watching the sun sink behind the hills.
“O God,” he whispered. “Show me what to do.”
The breeze moved gently through the tall grass. But inside his heart, the conviction remained. Ministry was never meant to replace love. God had not called him to abandon the things that strengthened his life.
He opened his journal again. The same line he had written three days earlier stared back at him.
Fix your house first.
He sighed deeply. “I thought I was protecting my calling.”
But the truth had slowly become clear. He had been afraid. Afraid that love would distract him. Afraid that responsibility would weaken him. Afraid that marriage might slow down the work of God.
But what if God had never intended for ministry to be built on loneliness?
He rubbed his face. “I need to go home.”
The thought had been growing stronger each day.
The next morning he spoke with the mission director.
“I need to step away for a while.”
The older man studied him quietly. “Is everything alright at home?”
“No, sir. I have something urgent I need to sort out.”
The director nodded slowly. “Ministry leaders must guard their hearts. Please take all the time you need ”
Purity felt a small sense of relief. Arrangements were made and he booked his ticket to Nigeria. But before he returned to Lagos, he knew he needed something else -- Solitude, retreat, a place where he could seek God without noise.
Back in Nigeria, he traveled to a quiet prayer center outside Ibadan. The retreat center sat on a hill surrounded by trees. No traffic noise. No busy ministry schedules. They had a lot of prayer rooms.
He spent the first day mostly crying.
“God…” His voice broke.
“I need you to lead me.”
The words felt heavy. He knelt on the wooden floor of the small prayer room.
“I want your will for my life. I thought I was making the best decision for myself.”
The confession sat in the air. “I know you’ve forgiven me but Lord I need a way out.”
His hands trembled. “What do I do?”
Scriptures floated through his mind. The order Pastor Ade had reminded him of.
God. Family. Then ministry. Not the other way around.
He stayed there for hours—praying, reading his Bible and journaling his thoughts.
By the third day something began to shift inside him.
You cannot build a strong ministry on a broken home.
He sat up suddenly.
“Lord…”
The words settled deep. If God had brought Valerie into his life, then the relationship itself was not a distraction. It was part of the journey. Part of the preparation.
He bowed his head again. “Teach me how to do this right.”
Healing, Valerie was beginning to realize, was not just about understanding yourself.
It was about confronting the parts of you that had been quietly controlling everything.
By the next session, Valerie didn’t sit as rigidly as she used to. She still came put together—hair neat, outfit intentional, composure intact.
But her eyes… Her eyes had started telling the truth before her words did.
They prayed again.
But this time, Valerie spoke too.
“God… help me not to hide today.”
The therapist smiled softly.
“That’s a powerful prayer.”
Valerie exhaled.
“I’m tired of going in circles.”
The therapist nodded.
“Then today, we won’t.”
A pause.
“I want us to talk about control.”
Valerie gave a small, knowing smile.
“That sounds like an attack.”
“It’s not,” the therapist said gently. “It’s an invitation.”
“Valerie,” she continued, “what do you think happens when you lose control?”
Valerie didn’t even think about it. “Things will fall apart.”
“How?”
“I get hurt.”
“Always?”
Valerie hesitated.
“…Most times.”
The therapist tilted her head slightly.
“Or… that’s what you learned to expect?”
That question lingered.
“Let’s go back,” the therapist said. “Not just to your father being absent… but to how you handled emotions as a child.”
Valerie looked down.
“I didn’t… handle them.”
“What did you do instead?”
“I suppressed them.”
“How?”
She shrugged lightly.
“I stayed busy. School. Church. Responsibilities. I made sure I was useful.”
The therapist leaned forward slightly.
“And what did being useful give you?”
Valerie’s voice dropped.
“It gave me value.”
Silence.
“And what did it protect you from?”
Valerie swallowed.
“…Being ignored.”
There it was.
The therapist let the moment breathe.
“Valerie,” she said gently, “you didn’t just become strong.”
“You became strategic.”
Valerie looked up slowly. “What does that mean?”
“It means everything you do emotionally… has a purpose.”
A pause.
“You don’t just love, you measure.”
Valerie’s chest tightened. “You don’t just give, you calculate safety.”
Her fingers curled slightly.
“You don’t just stay, you assess risk.”
Her throat went dry.
“And that’s not because you’re manipulative,” the therapist added quickly.
“It’s because you learned early that love… could be unpredictable.”
Valerie blinked rapidly.
“I didn’t even know I was doing all that,” she whispered.
“I know,” the therapist said softly.
“That’s why trauma can be powerful.”
The room grew quieter.
“Let’s bring Purity into the conversation,” the therapist said gently.
Valerie stiffened slightly. But she nodded.
“When he loved you… how did you respond?”
Valerie took a deep breath.
“I loved him too.”
“I believe you. But how did you express it?”
She hesitated. “I was there for him.”
“In what way?”
“I supported him. Encouraged him. Prayed for him.”
The therapist nodded.
“Those are beautiful things.”
A pause.
“But did you lean on him?”
“I…” she started.
But the words didn’t come.
The therapist didn’t push.
“When you were overwhelmed… did you tell him?”
Silence.
“When you were scared… did you show him?”
Valerie’s eyes dropped.
“When you needed reassurance… did you ask for it?”
Her chest tightened.
“No,” she whispered.
The truth landed fully this time.
“I didn’t want to be… needy.”
The therapist nodded slowly.
“And what does ‘needy’ mean to you?”
Valerie’s voice was barely audible.
“…it means being too much.”
“And where did you learn that being ‘too much’ was dangerous?”
Valerie’s eyes filled again.
“My childhood.”
The therapist sat back slightly.
Then said something that made everything click
“Valerie… what if he didn’t leave because you were too much…”
A pause.
“What if he left because you weren’t letting him have you at all?”
That sentence didn’t just land. It shattered something.
Valerie’s head lifted slowly.
Tears gathered instantly.
“No…” she whispered.
But her voice carried doubt.
The therapist continued, gently but firmly—
“Think about it.”
“He was intentional.”
“He pursued you.”
“He showed up.”
“And what did he meet?”
Valerie’s breathing became uneven.
“…Resistance.”
“Not rejection in words,” the therapist clarified.
“But in access.”
Tears spilled freely now.
“I didn’t know…” Valerie said, shaking her head.
“I know,” the therapist replied.
“But he may have felt like he was loving… a wall.”
Valerie covered her mouth as a sob escaped.
“God…” she cried. “I was trying to protect myself.”
“And he,” the therapist said softly, “may have been trying to protect himself from feeling unwanted.”
That evening, Valerie sat on her bed. Phone in hand. Heart racing.
His name was still there.
She had never deleted it. She couldn’t bring herself to block him.
Her thumb hovered over his contact.
Her chest tightened.
What would she even say?
I understand now?
I’m sorry?
Come back?
The thoughts came fast.
Her heart whispered—
Call him.
“Not yet.” She told herself
She dropped the phone on the bed.
Frustrated and Conflicted.
“God…” she whispered.
Tears slid down her face again.
“I don’t even know what’s right anymore.”
She picked up her journal instead.
And wrote:
“I am learning that love requires vulnerability… not just loyalty.” “I don’t know if I’m ready yet but I trust God to help me .”
Purity returned to Lagos the next day.
He went straight to see Pastor Ade that evening. A man who had walked with God long enough to recognize patterns.
“You’re not the first man to run from love,” the man said calmly.
Purity let out a tired breath.
“I thought I was choosing God.”
Pastor Ade nodded. “And what if God was testing how you handle love?”
Purity frowned slightly.
“I don’t understand, sir.”
P. Ade leaned forward.
“Many men can preach sacrifice.”
“But very few can practice it.”
That hit.
“You left her,” P. Ade continued, “not because she was completely wrong… but because you were afraid.”
Purity looked down.
“I didn’t want distractions.”
P. Ade shook his head gently.
“No. You didn’t want exposure.”
Purity’s chest tightened.
“Love reveals you,” P. Ade said.
“It shows your weaknesses. Your inconsistencies. Your need to grow.”
A pause.
“And you weren’t ready to be seen like that.”
Silence wrapped around them.
“I thought I needed to be perfect first, I didn’t want her to see me as her father. I thought she was going to break up with me one way or the other ” Purity admitted quietly.
The man smiled slightly.
“That’s pride disguised as discipline.”
Purity let out a shaky breath.
“You don’t build a life and then invite love,” the man continued.
“You build with love. You also do not make decisions for your partner. You could have allowed her make the choice herself. Either way, it will still hurt— but you’ll be at peace knowing she made that choice herself. ”
That truth settled deep.
Pastor Ade prayed with him that evening and he felt so much peace within. He knew that God was just getting started with him. He really had a lot of work to do and he was ready to do just that.
Yayyyyy…. I didn’t even think I’ll drop a bonus chapter today…. But anyhoooo…..
Y’all please run up the numbers so it can ginger me.
Comment, restack, share, like, subscribe.
Thank you for being here. I do not take it for granted.
Now!!!! What do you think of Valerie’s therapy session??
I genuinely love that she’s seeing parts of herself that were hidden.
I love that God is so much invested in their lives.
Even though the break up was not meant to happen but God is using it to work on them individually and make them whole.
I love that Valerie is now going for therapy. She had the chance to speak with her mum. From their conversation I learnt that ministry needs wisdom and growth. You must accept newness and change.
I love when God just shows us who we truly are and our true motives.
I love that God is so much invested in their lives.
Even though the break up was not meant to happen but God is using it to work on them individually and make them whole.
I love that Valerie is now going for therapy. She had the chance to speak with her mum. From their conversation I learnt that ministry needs wisdom and growth. You must accept newness and change.
I love when God just shows us who we truly are and our true motives.
I love this chapter plis!!!! Healing is painfully beautiful😭
Again pastor Ade!!!!
You don’t build then invite love!!! You build in love!!!