Author’s POV
The double doors of the Church parted like the gates of a quiet city, admitting the morning sun in a long, unbroken sheet of gold that sliced through the dim, reverent cool of the sanctuary.
Soteria Idorenyin stood at the threshold, her hand resting on the forearm of her eldest brother, Asuquo.
To the five hundred people watching, she was an editorial vision of bridal perfection, a portrait of high-fashion elegance designed by a master.
Her gown was gorgeous. A veil drifted over her face, softening her features into a romantic mist, but it could not hide the intense, glossy shine of her eyes. They were locked entirely onto the handsome man in the midnight blue suit standing at the far end of the altar.
Beside her, Asuquo walked with his chin held high, his jaw was clenched so hard, his eyes swimming with thick, unexpressed moisture as he took the place of the man who should have been there to give her away.
At the altar, AkilaHyel stood as still as a mountain.
His shoulders were rigid. His hands were clasped tightly in front of him, his knuckles turning white against the deep blue fabric of his suit.
The soft, beautiful notes of a violin and piano began to float through the church, playing a slow, acoustic melody of Can’t Help Falling in Love
“Wise men say only fools rush in
But I can’t help falling in love with you
Shall I stay?
Would it be a sin
If I can’t help falling in love with you?
Like a river flows surely to the sea
Darling, so it goes
Some things are meant to be
Take my hand, take my whole life, too
For I can’t help falling in love with you
Like a river flows surely to the sea
Darling, so it goes
Some things are meant to be
Take my hand, take my whole life, too
For I can’t help falling in love with you
For I can’t help falling in love with you
When Soteria took her first three steps down the aisle, his breath left him in a sharp, audible hiss that only Effiom heard.
His eyes grew instantly misty, a hot, sudden pressure building behind his eyelids that forced him to tilt his head upward for a brief second, staring at the rafters of the church just to keep from breaking down before she even reached him.
When Akila looked back down, she was halfway to him. The world was moving in slow motion. He saw his mother, Mama, sitting in the front, her head tilting as she wept silently into her shawl. He saw Mrs. Idorenyin, Soteria’s mother, holding a white lace handkerchief to her mouth, her shoulders shaking with the silent grief of a widow who had successfully brought her only daughter to the altar of God.
With every step Soteria took, the beads on her dress made a soft, rhythmic sound against the floor, a beautiful, fragile pulse that seemed to beat in perfect time with the thumping of his own heart.
When they finally reached the foot of the altar, the music faded into a low, lingering string chord. Asuquo stopped, turning to his sister.
Akila stepped down from the platform. He took Soteria’s hand from her brother, his fingers instantly closing around hers, absorbing her trembling warmth into his palm.
Pastor Uzor stepped forward, and he stood behind the wooden altar table. He looked down at the couple, his eyes filled with a deep, discerning warmth that had watched this love story climb out of the trenches of grief and doubt.
“Beloved,” Pastor Uzor’s voice boomed through the church.
“We are not here today to witness a performance. We are here to witness a consecration. Before this congregation and before the living God, this man and this woman have come to fuse their lives into a single fortress. Let us begin with the vows.”
He gestured to the little groom, who brought forward two slim, silver bands resting on a velvet cushion. Pastor Uzor picked up the larger band, placing it in Akila’s palm.
“AkilaHyel, take this ring,” the pastor instructed. “Place it upon her finger, and repeat after me.”
Akila turned fully to face Soteria.
He took her hand and slid the platinum band halfway up her finger, his eyes locked onto hers through the sheer tulle.
“With this ring,” Akila’s voice rang out.,
“I thee wed. With my body, I honor thee. All my worldly goods, I share with thee. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
Soteria’s chest heaved as she took the smaller ring from the cushion.
Her fingers were shaking but Akila’s hand steadied hers, holding her wrist firm as she slid the band onto his finger.
“With this ring,” she whispered, her voice cracking beautifully,
“I thee wed. With my body, I honor thee. All my worldly goods, I share with thee. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”
“Now,” Pastor Uzor said, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he stepped back slightly, giving them the floor.
“You may read your personal vows to one another.”
Akila reached up, his hands moving with an intentional, reverent slowness, and lifted the veil completely off Soteria’s face, throwing it back over her shoulders.
The moment her face was bare, the tears that had been pooling in her eyes broke free, tracking two clean, glittering lines down her cheeks. She looked up at him, her lips parting as she tried to smile through the wetness.
Akila reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a small, folded piece of white paper, and looked at it for a brief second before folding it back up and putting it away.
“My baby, My queen,” Akila said, his voice dropping into a low, intimate whisper that the microphones barely caught, yet it echoed through every corner of the silent sanctuary.
“I met you in the weirdest of places and at a time where i did not ever imagine being in love. I was a cynical, hardened man who thought his life was already written. The day I met you, I didn’t even know I would fall in love with you.”
He paused, a jagged breath escaping his chest as a fresh wave of tears blurred his vision. He didn’t look away from her.
“But I remember that night. I remember you standing in my kitchen after everything had fallen apart for you that week. We ended up on that cold kitchen floor. We sat there in the dark, and we cried our eyes out until our chests were sore. In that moment, looking at you in your rawest, most broken form, a part of my soul that had been dead and buried for years suddenly felt a bit of life. I looked at you and I didn’t just see a woman; I saw my assignment from heaven. I swore an oath to God that night on that kitchen floor that I would protect the woman before me with my very life.”
Soteria let out a soft, choking sob, her shoulders shaking under the heavy lace of her gown. Amara stepped forward, her own eyes glistening with tears, and gently handed her a tissue, but Soteria didn’t use it. She just kept her eyes glued to her husband.
“I stand here today and I am so deeply proud of you, Ziniya,” Akila’s voice cracked, a tear dropping from his jaw onto his lapel.
“I have watched your growth spiritually, emotionally, and intellectually over this past year. I have watched you lean into God when life got heavy. I have watched you trust him with your fears. I promise you today, before our family, that the man who held you on that kitchen floor is the same man who will hold you through every storm of our lives. I will honor you. I will cherish you. I will never let you walk an unshielded path again.”
Soteria took a deep, stabilizing breath, swallowing the lump in her throat as she stepped closer to him, her hands reaching up to grasp his lapels. She didn’t look at her paper either.
“My Man, My Man. My Hausa Odogwu” she whispered with a laugh.
“You know who I was when you met me. I was a spoiled brat. I was an arrogant, defensive girl who hid behind her father’s name and her lifestyle because she was terrified of being hurt. I thought that if I kept my walls high enough, if I controlled every single detail of my life, nobody could see the frightened girl inside.”
She managed a small, watery laugh flashing through her tears.
“But look at me now, baby. Look at the woman standing before you today. Being with you has made me see, for the very first time in my life, how much God truly loves me. I used to think I was too broken, too scattered, too difficult, too stubborn to be loved properly. But God looked at my secret cries, He looked at my fears, and He sent a man so perfect to represent His love for me. You are the physical manifestation of God’s grace in my life.”
She lifted her right hand, her fingers completely unbothered by the cameras, and gently wiped the moisture from Akila’s eyes.
Her touch was warm, lingering against his skin. Akila closed his eyes for a brief second, leaning his face into her palm, before lifting his own thumb to gently wipe the tears from her cheeks.
“You studied my exhaustion when I didn’t even know I was tired,” Soteria said softly, her eyes locked into his.
“You gave up your own comfort just to ensure my soul could rest. I am so proud to be your wife, Uyai. I promise to follow your leadership, to honor your strength, and to love you with a pure, unyielding devotion until my very last breath. You are my home, baby. My absolute home.”
Pastor Uzor stepped between them, his own face bright with an immense, spiritual joy. He placed his hands over their joined palms, his voice rising in a triumphant crescendo.
“By the covenant of the blood of Christ, by the laws of this land, and before this assembly... I now pronounce you husband and wife! What God has joined together, let no man put asunder! AkilaHyel... you may kiss your bride!”
Before Akila could even lean down to claim his wife, Effiom stepped forward with a face looking so serious.
He drew a hand towel from his pocket, tapped Akila on the shoulder, and began to meticulously, aggressively wipe Akila’s lips to clear away any tear salt or sweat before the kiss.
The entire congregation dissolved into a roar of laughter.
“Get out of the way, my friend!” Akila laughed, throwing a playful shoulder into Effiom’s chest, sending the best man stumbling back with a grin.
Effiom stepped back, chuckling, and took his place right beside Amara. As the crowd continued to shout and cheer, Effiom’s hand dropped casually behind his back, his fingers slotting perfectly between Amara’s.
He held her hand with an excited, quiet anticipation, his eyes sparkling as he looked down at her.
Amara didn’t pull away; she squeezed his knuckles back tightly, both of them standing there, sharing a silent, private promise of their own while the world celebrated the couple.
Akila turned back to Soteria, his chest rising with an emotion too powerful for words. For a heartbeat, all he could do was look at her, as though he still couldn’t believe she was truly standing before him as his wife, choosing him.
Then he closed the distance.
His hands slid firmly around her waist, adjusting her effortlessly until her delicate gown cascaded around his shoes like a cloud of white.
A soft gasp escaped her lips before he drew her closer, eliminating even the smallest space between them.
He was finally kissing her. After a year plus of keeling themselves, he had this woman all to himself..
His forehead brushed hers for the briefest moment.
Then he kissed her.
Not a hurried kiss for the cameras. Not the polite kiss expected after wedding vows.
This was the kiss of two souls who had walked through fire and somehow found each other waiting on the other side.
It began slowly, almost reverently, as though they were savoring a miracle neither dared rush.
Every gentle movement carried months of longing, years of silent prayers, sleepless nights, impossible odds, and battles they had survived together. It was gratitude. It was relief. It was worship wrapped in love.
The world around them disappeared.
The hundreds of guests filling the pews ceased to exist. The orchestra faded into silence. The relentless flashes of cameras became nothing more than distant flickers in another universe.
There was only Akila. There was only Soteria.
He held her as though letting go would unravel the very life he had fought to protect, his arms steady, possessive, and impossibly tender.
Her fingers curled into his shoulders, holding onto him with equal desperation, her tears slipping freely down her cheeks as they mingled with his own.
Time seemed to surrender to them.
The kiss deepened, not in urgency, but in feeling. Every passing second became another promise spoken without words, another vow carved into eternity.
The congregation watched in silence, many smiling through tears.
Even those who had sworn they wouldn’t cry found themselves reaching for handkerchiefs.
When the kiss stretched on long, Pastor Uzor finally lifted the microphone to his lips.
With an exaggerated clearing of his throat and eyes sparkling with amusement, he interrupted the moment.
“My people” he said, chuckling as the congregation erupted into warm laughter. “The marriage is already sealed.”
Right on cue, Naya’s loud, sharp voice cut through the lingering cheers from the front row: “Hehehehehehehe! God abegeth thee oo!!”
The entire church burst into another hysterical wave of laughter.
Soteria pulled back from the kiss, her face completely flushed, her gorgeous smile breaking wide open as she hid her face against Akila’s chest, her shoulders shaking with laughter.
“Hallelujah” Pastor Uzor chuckled, waving his hands to settle the rowdy crowd.
“Before we send this beautiful couple out into the world, let us say a word of prayer.”
He stepped closer, as they knelt down, placing his hands over their heads.
“Our Father in Heaven. We thank you for the life of these ones. Thank you for the hurdles they have crossed and the ones they’ll cross, with you guiding them. I decree in the name of Jesus, May the Lord establish your home in him,” Pastor Uzor prayed.
“May He protect your health, multiply your resources, and grant you blessed children. You shall live to see your children’s children in peace and honor. Any weapon formed against this union is nullified. The wisdom of the Lord rests upon you both. In Jesus’ mighty name we have prayed!”
“AMEN!” the church roared, the sound shaking the very timber of the building.
“And now!” the church secretary announced, the band instantly bursting into a contemporary praise groove that had the youth jumping.
“It is time for the signing of the certificate and the official exit of the newly wedded couple!”
The next forty minutes became a beautiful, ecstatic blur of joy.
The family members danced up the altar as they joined the couple to sign the certificate,
The photographers moved with precision, capturing the beauty of the couple under the lights.
When the final picture was taken, Akila turned to his wife, offering his arm with a majestic, uncontainable pride.
“Are you ready, Mrs. AkilaHyel Gaya?” he murmured into her ear, his hand tightening over hers.
“I was born ready, husband” Soteria smiled, her eyes bright with a peace she had never known before.
Outside, the guard of honor stood in two perfect lines, their silver swords drawing from their scabbards with a sharp, synchronized clink, crossing over the red carpet to form an arch of steel.
With the choir singing behind them, Akila and Soteria stepped forward together, dancing through the corridor, through the rain of white rose petals, and straight into the beautiful, endless expanse of their forever.
SOTERIA’S POV
The reception was open-air, a sanctuary carved out of the Abuja night.
Above us, the sky was a deep, velvet expanse dusted with cold stars, but beneath the canopy of the garden, thousands of warm fairy lights were woven through the branches of the ancient trees, casting a soft, golden glow over the five hundred guests who filled the lawn.
The tables were draped in premium silks, topped with cascading white orchids, and surrounded by the low, vibrant hum of laughter, clinking crystal glasses, and the relentless, glossy flashes of cameras.
But the moment the live band shifted into a slow, deeply resonant melody, the world collapsed into a singular, quiet axis.
Akila stepped onto the wooden dance floor, anchoring me against the sudden chill of the evening breeze.
His hand, warm and unyielding, settled securely against the small of my back.
We began to sway under the open sky.
He leaned down, his chin brushing the edge of my hair, his breath warm and uneven against my ear. His voice dropped into a rough, emotional whisper.
“So... you’re now my wife. Wow. I can’t believe it, baby. I love you so, so much.”
A tight, beautiful ache formed in the back of my throat. I pulled back just enough to look up into his eyes. They were glossy, reflecting the fairy lights like tiny, captured stars.
“I love you too, Akila,” I whispered back, my voice trembling.
“And I still can’t believe you’re actually my husband. Captain AkilaHyel Gaya... my husband.”
A slow smile broke across his face, as his chest heaved with a deep, shaky breath.
We just stayed there, our eyes locked in a silent, overwhelming liturgy of gratitude.
The world around us was shouting, celebrating, and taking photos, but in the center of that open-air lawn, we were just two drowning souls who had been dragged to the shores of grace.
As we continued to sway, the heavy weight of the day began to melt off my shoulders.
I rested my forehead against his chest.
“Babe,” I murmured, my voice muffled against his chest.
“What if we don’t go to the hotel tonight?”
He leaned back slightly, his hand moving up to gently adjust a loose strand of hair.
“Why, baby? Your brothers spent a fortune on that executive bridal suite. Our bags have already been moved there.”
“I know,” I said, looking up at him with a quiet, stubborn conviction.
“But I don’t want a hotel room. I want our very first night together, our first time as husband and wife, to be inside our own home. Even if all the furniture isn’t there yet, I want our home to hold this memory first.”
Akila stared down at me, his eyes searching my face.
He didn’t question me. He didn’t argue.
“Okay,” he whispered, his voice thick with a sudden heat.
“Whatever you want, my wife. Your word is law.”
Without breaking our dance, he subtly steered us toward the lawn, close to where the bridal train was seated.
He caught Naya’s eye and gave her a brief nod.
Naya approached us, her voice dropping into a low, concerned whisper.
“Yaro, what’s up ?”
“Naya, I need you to help me with something,” Akila instructed.
“Call the cleaner. Tell her to head over to the new house right now. She should open the windows, clean up any dust, and make sure the master bedroom is completely set up. The keys to the house are in the glove compartment of my car parked at the main gate. Tell the driver to hand the key over to her.”
A huge, mischievous grin broke across her face.
“Hehehe!,” she teased under her breath, shaking her head. “Issoryt ooo, Mr and Mrs. Consider it done. I am on it.”
She then disappeared into the crowd with her phone already pressed to her ear.
Akila looked back down at me, a low, rumbling chuckle vibrating against his ribs.
He pulled me back into his space, his arms wrapping securely around my waist as the band soared into the final chorus of our song.
The night was crisp and silent by the time the car finally pulled away from the venue, leaving the lingering echoes of the reception far behind.
When the heavy front doors of our house clicked shut, the silence that fell over us was profound.
We didn’t change out of our wedding attire immediately.
The house was magnificent but cavernous, our footsteps echoing softly on the pristine white porcelain tiles that mirrored the moonlight streaming through the glass windows.
The living room was empty, save for several unopened boxes of books stacked against the wall.
I sat on the floor, Akila sat right beside me. He took my hands into his palms, his thumbs tracing the veins on the back of my wrists.
We spent that entire first night just looking at each other, talking about the day.
In the quietness of that empty room, surrounded by bare walls and future promises, we knelt together on the tiles.
Hand in hand, our foreheads touching, we wept. We didn’t cry from sadness; we cried from the sheer, crushing weight of gratitude.
We thanked God for pulling us both out of our separate, dark oceans, for saving my drowning soul and breaking down the walls that had kept Akila’s heart cold for years.
It was a time of genuine thanksgiving, and when we finally lay down on the mattress, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms, the emptiness of the house felt like the richest place on earth.
The second night, after the wedding adrenaline had completely washed away, we consummated our marriage.
It was a beautiful, tender, and deeply sacred transition. There was no rush, we were not trying to impress each other, it was just a slow, reverent surrender that felt like a quiet prayer offered before the mercy seat of God.
Two days later, we were at Nnamdi Azikiwe International Airport, about to take off for our honeymoon. .
I had picked the location myself.
I wanted nature. I wanted a place where the earth was raw, where the rhythm of life was slow, and where the water could remind us of the vastness of the grace that had rewritten our lives.
I chose Zanzibar.
The moment the wheels left the tarmac, a profound sense of liberation settled over me.
My baby had three weeks off for our honeymoon and it was just perfect.
The flight was a beautiful blur. We were completely glued to each other, sitting so close on the leather reclining seats that there was no space between his shoulder and mine.
“My baby, all mine “ Akila murmured two hours into the flight, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked down at me.
I was wrapped in a soft cashmere shawl, my bare feet tucked under his thigh.
“Mrs. Gaya. How do you feel?”
“I feel great, husband. Super duper happy,” I smiled.
Akila reached up, his fingers cupping my chin, and pulled my face up.
He stole a slow, lingering kiss right there, his lips warm and soft against mine, completely unbothered by the flight attendant who was discreetly setting down a tray of fresh tropical fruit in the galley.
He kept doing that throughout the entire flight. Every time I looked out the window at the shifting clouds below, or every time I paused mid-sentence while gisting him about anything, he would lean across the console and steal another kiss.
By the time the aircraft began its final descent over the coast of Tanzania, the late afternoon sun was hitting the water below.
My breath completely caught in my chest. I pressed my face against the glass window.
It was a spectacular, shimmering expanse of pure turquoise and liquid sapphire, so brilliant it looked like a painting.
The tiny coral islands and white sandbars below looked like scattered pearls resting on a bed of glass.
“You picked well, my wife,” Akila murmured from behind me, his arms wrapping around my shoulders from behind, his chin resting on my head as we both watched the world open up beneath us.
Our resort in Nungwi, situated on the northernmost tip of the island, was a masterpiece of understated African luxury. It consisted of private stone villas with high, sweeping thatched roofs, hidden behind lush walls of bougainvillea and towering palm trees.
When I woke up on our first morning on the island, the room was filled with a soft, ethereal light.
The sun was just beginning to clear the horizon, painting the wooden rafters in shades of amber and lavender.
The only sound was the slow, rhythmic sigh of the Indian Ocean pushing against the shore, causing the sheer white linen curtains to dance gently against the stone walls.
Beside me, Akila was deep asleep, he looked incredibly peaceful.
His breathing was deep and even, his hand resting open right beside my pillow.
I propped myself up on one elbow, my eyes tracing the contours of his face.
A sudden, tight knot of pure emotion formed in my throat, so intense it made my eyes sting with hot tears.
I remembered the girl I used to be, the arrogant, defensive, and deeply confused girl who thought she could control her life.
I remembered the heavy, suffocating darkness of those years when I was always partying and living recklessly, wondering if God even knew my name or if my father’s name was the only thing that gave me worth.
But Christ had broken into that ocean. He hadn’t just saved my soul from the deep; He had restored my dignity, healed my family, and then, in His ultimate, breathtaking extravagance, He had crowned the entire journey with this beautiful man.
As if sensing the depth of my gaze, Akila’s eyelashes fluttered open.
The moment his eyes found mine, a warm, slow smile broke across his face.
He didn’t say a word; he just reached out, his long arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me down until my face was buried in the warm hollow of his neck.
“You’re awake,” he rumbled, his baritone thick with sleep, his chest vibrating against my cheek.
“Why are you watching me like that, Mrs. Gaya?”
“I’m just admiring my husband,” I whispered, my hand flattening against his chest, feeling the steady, powerful heartbeat beneath his skin.
“I’m just thanking God that you are real. That we are actually here.”
Akila’s hold on me tightened, his fingers gently tracing the lines of my back with a reverence that always amazed me.
“Ziniya, before you came, I thought I had everything figured out. I thought walking in the light just meant keeping the rules, reading the Bible like a book, and going to church. But my heart was cold. I was living in a dark room and calling it salvation.”
He lifted his head, his eyes locking into mine with a fierce, absolute honesty that made my breath hitch.
“God used your radical surrender, your vulnerability, and your beautiful, stubborn faith to show me that I hadn’t allowed His light fully into my heart. Through you, mama, the true meaning of your name broke into my life. You brought salvation to my soul.”
Tears blurred my vision, but I didn’t wipe them away. It was the absolute truth.
The name Soteria meant salvation, and God had used my life as a divine vessel.
Through a simple, broken yes, He had brought my mother and brothers into a deeper walk with Him, transformed the hearts of my closest friends, and pulled this formidable Captain out of his self-imposed isolation into the warmth of a true, living covenant.
Over the next three weeks, we immersed ourselves in the raw, undisturbed beauty of the island.
We spent long, lazy afternoons walking barefoot along the shoreline, letting the warm water lap at our ankles while Akila held my hand as if he would never let go.
We went on spice tours in Stone Town, laughing until our stomachs were sore as Akila tried to identify cinnamon and nutmeg plants.
We sat on the deck of a traditional wooden dhow cruise at sunset, watching the sun dip below the horizon like a burning coal, painting the entire Indian Ocean in shades of crimson and gold.
Leaning against his chest, watching the stars multiply over the Zanzibar sky, I closed my eyes in perfect peace.
The storms were far from being over but hand in hand with the man God had created specifically for me, I stood at the edge of a beautiful, unwritten future, completely healed, completely loved, and ready to change the world through my testimony.
THE END‼️‼️
I still don’t know how to explain what I feel. But the most profound word is ‘Gratitude’.
I am grateful to all you for loving Akila and Soteria.
It’s been a ride, our babies have healed and gotten more mature. You’ve been with them all through this ride.
Thank you. Thank you for loving this author enough to read her thoughts in form of fiction.
I love you all and I am grateful for you.💙
Cheers to many more stories that speak the mind of Christ and heal hearts. 🙏🙏
Thank youuu, Isabella🥹🙏
I have a class this morning, but it can waitt. I need to read this, asap😭
Amara and Effiom, side eye to you bothhhh👀