Chapter 5 The Altar and the Ashes

It rained the day Anaya stopped singing. The skies over Port Harcourt cracked open in a weeping that felt personal thunder low, clouds heavy, like heaven had something to say but no voice to say it with. Rain drummed on the church's aluminum roof, drowning out the opening hymns. Anaya stood in the choir, lips moving, but no sound came out. She wasn't sick. She wasn't shy. She was changing and everyone could feel it, especially her father. Pastor Ejike Obiora watched his daughter with the trained eyes of a man who'd cast out demons and broken curses.

He knew when the spirit of a girl had shifted. Her once fiery prayers now flickered. Her once fierce obedience now felt... polite. Measured. Something had entered her life. Or someone. That evening, he called her into his office. It smelled of old leather, anointing oil, and fear. You've been distracted, Anaya, he said She sat on the edge of the chair. I'm trying, Daddy. He leaned forward. Trying isn't surrender. And surrender is what God requires. Tell me what's changed. Who's changed you? She looked him in the eyes. For the first time in her life, she didn't lie."A boy." Silence. Deafening. Then: Bring him. Sunday. I want to see the face behind this spirit of confusion. Khalid didn't run when she told him. He didn't even flinch. He just nodded, took a deep breath, and said, "Then I'll come clean. Everything. Even if it burns. Sunday arrived like a storm on legs. The church was packed. Worship swelled like a tide. Anaya stood beside Khalid in the front row, her white dress crisp, his black shirt damp from nervous sweat. Her father stepped down from the pulpit. The congregation watched. Even the choir fell silent. Pastor Ejike looked Khalid in the eyes.

You know who I am?

Yes, sir.

You know who she is?

Yes, sir.

Then speak. Khalid's voice didn't shake. My name is Khalid Yusuf. I grew up in Port Harcourt. I've done things I'm not proud of. I scammed people. Lied to them. Used love like a fishing hook. Until I met your daughter. Gasps rippled. He continued. She didn't change me. She reminded me I still had a soul. And I don't know what God will do with a boy like me, but I'm not lying anymore. Not to her. Not here. Silence again. Then Pastor Ejike did something no one expected. He stepped forward. And laid a hand on Khalid's shoulder. The altar is not only for the holy, he said. It's for the willing. He turned to the church. We all want fire from heaven. But what if the fire came to burn the lies out of our bones, not just bless our offerings? This young man has confessed. We will not stone him. We will pray. Some nodded. Some didn't. But Anaya's hand reached for Khalid's. And he held on. Weeks passed. Then months.

Khalid started working with a cybercafe in Rumuokoro, teaching kids digital skills no more lies, just code. Anaya applied for university again, this time in Lagos. They didn't kiss, not yet. But their silences were sacred. Their laughter, honest. One evening, while walking past the old cyber café where they first spoke freely, Anaya asked, Do you still feel like you're pretending? Khalid looked at her. Not With you, it's the first time I feel like I belong in the light. he smiled. Then stay there. They didn't promise forever. But they promised truth and that, finally, was enough.

THE END.