THE VIRGIN AND THE VOWS

The church was alive with the usual hum of excitement and devotion. Today was the annual love feast a day when young men and women were encouraged to meet, mingle, and pray with potential partners. The atmosphere was festive yet reverent, filled with laughter, music, and the scent of freshly polished floors and floral arrangements. I adjusted the hem of my uniform and walked into the main hall, trying to blend in with the crowd. My name is Ifeoma, but everyone calls me Ify. I worked in the hospitality unit of the church, making sure guests felt welcome, serving water, guiding visitors to seats, and keeping everything organized. It wasn’t glamorous work, but I liked it. I liked the feeling of being useful, of helping people, and sometimes, if I were honest, it gave me a chance to observe people without being noticed. And that was how I saw him. Ugochukwu or Ugo, as I would later call him was on the altar, leading the choir in a hymn. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and his skin glistened under the warm church lights. His voice carried through the hall, confident and rich, commanding attention without even trying. I wasn’t sure why my chest tightened, but I knew I had noticed him before. And yet, something about today was different. The way he moved graceful, assured drew my eyes to him repeatedly. His laughter, which rang out during a brief break in the choir rehearsal, was magnetic. I found myself subtly adjusting my posture, brushing invisible lint off my uniform, pretending to be busy with my duties, all the while sneaking glances at him. I wasn’t the only one. I later discovered that Ugo had noticed me too. But in that moment, I only saw what I wanted to see a strong, kind, handsome man devoted to his faith. I had no idea then how much that first impression would change my life. The love feast began properly after the morning service. Singles were encouraged to pick partners to pray with, and there were games, dancing, and discussions meant to bring people closer. I tried not to look too conspicuous as I moved among the tables, refilling glasses and offering small pieces of fruit to those seated. Then he walked past me. Ugo moved with a confidence I found unsettlingly attractive. He didn’t seem to notice me at first, and maybe that was what drew me in further. I had heard his name before everyone in the church admired him but this was the first time I truly saw him up close. And I felt something I couldn’t quite name: curiosity, excitement, fear, and something else entirely. Our eyes met briefly. Just for a second, but it was enough. I felt a flutter in my stomach, and I quickly looked away, pretending to arrange chairs nearby. He had noticed. I knew it. My heart raced as I tried to focus on my duties, telling myself I was imagining things. That evening, during a brief break, he approached me. My heart pounded so loudly, I was sure he could hear it. “Hello,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips. “You’re Ifeoma, right?” I nodded, too aware of my flushed face. “Yes… that’s me. And you are…?” “Ugochukwu. Ugo,” he said. “I’ve seen you around. You’re in the hospitality unit?” “Yes… I make sure everyone is comfortable,” I said, trying to sound casual. He nodded appreciatively. “I noticed. You’ve been doing a great job.” My chest warmed at the compliment. “Thank you… I try.” We exchanged polite smiles. And yet, beneath the conversation, I felt the tension building. Something about his presence made me nervous, aware of my every gesture. I laughed a little too loudly when he smiled again. Later, as the love feast games began, I found myself paired with him for a prayer activity. The rule was simple: hold hands with your partner and pray for guidance and blessings. My palms became sweaty, and I struggled to keep my hands steady. “Relax,” he whispered. “It’s just prayer. Nothing to worry about.” His hand was warm, firm, and comforting. I tried to meet his eyes but found myself looking down, feeling a strange combination of guilt and fear. Guilt because I was about to lie to him about something very important, something that could change everything. Fear because I had never felt this drawn to a man before. The prayer ended, and we stood apart, but the connection lingered. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. That night, as the event concluded and people began to leave, he approached me again. “I’d like to see you again… maybe for a coffee after service sometime?” I hesitated. My mind raced. How could I explain that I wasn’t exactly what he expected? How could I reveal my secret? “Yes… I’d like that,” I finally said, smiling, hiding my inner turmoil. From that moment, something shifted. We began seeing each other outside church activities. Our conversations were light, playful, and often spiritual, but always with underlying tension. I learned he was disciplined, faithful, and caring a man any woman would dream of. But I also learned he had a particular view about marriage: he didn’t want a virgin. I overheard him once talking with friends. “Even if they put a knife to my neck, I won’t accept a virgin. I need someone experienced,” he had said, laughing with his friends. I loved him. I wanted to be with him. But I was a virgin. I lied. And that lie would haunt me later. As weeks passed, our bond strengthened. He noticed my little quirks, my sense of humor, my dedication to church work. I noticed his patience, his intelligence, and his quiet strength. Yet, the secret remained between us, a thin line I feared would snap one day. That night, lying in bed after our first unofficial date, I stared at the ceiling. My heart ached with both love and fear. Could I ever tell him the truth? Would he love me if he knew? Little did I know, the truth would have to come sooner than I expected.