In between sundays

Sunday of Firsts

Chapter Eight— A Sunday of Firsts

It was that same Sunday. The kind of Sunday that feels like it stretches and compresses time all at once. Peter had come to church after about a month, and just seeing him again made my chest tighten. He sat beside me, greeted me, and we talked — awkwardly, nervously, but with a warmth that made my heart skip. We laughed over small things: about his exam, about how he “stood for a girl” like a gentleman, about his younger brother Joseph being stubborn while recording like a pro. I teased him, and he laughed, and the world felt quiet in that small bubble beside him.

I noticed the little things, the gestures that made me feel seen: when my books fell, he picked them up; when my bag teetered on the plastic chairs, he guarded it; when I asked for the time, he sent his younger sister to ask Philemon for me. And just as he was leaving, he called my name to say goodbye. My heart jumped at that sound — his voice carrying across the pews, gentle, careful, intentional.

But that same day, while the church echoes and songs of praise lingered in my ears, my mind was already buzzing with another thought. Philemon’s name had been sitting in my brain for a while. He was Peter’s dark-skinned brother, quiet, focused, cautious, but also sharp and into tech — or at least that’s what Joseph had said weeks ago. And I wanted to learn coding.

So, I did something brave. I opened my w******p and typed:

> “Hey Philemon, this is Stella 🙂 I actually saw your name in one of my mum’s group chats and remembered Joseph once mentioned you’re into tech. I’ve been trying to learn coding, though I’m still figuring things out. I just wanted to ask what area of tech you’re into (it’s totally fine if you’d rather not say.)”

I hesitated before sending, my brain spinning: Won’t he feel like I’m using him? What if he asks where I got his number? What if he laughs or tells Peter? But I pressed send anyway.

He replied quickly, cautious:

> “Ur mom's group chat??”

I explained it was a church group my mom was in, then we started talking about tech, about coding, about data analysis, about my motivation and why I was starting now even though I studied English. He asked carefully, made sure it was really me, then slowly, the conversation warmed.

We talked like strangers who might not be strangers at all. He asked about my coding journey, reassured me that JavaScript wasn’t as scary as I thought, and even smiled through the messages. He offered guidance and mentioned introducing me to family who were deep in the tech space.

All of this happened on the same day I had shared laughter and handshakes with Peter. That Sunday had been a storm of emotions: seeing Peter again, feeling noticed, catching little moments of care, and also stepping into something entirely new with Philemon, cautiously reaching out and feeling the thrill of connection.

It was overwhelming and exciting and… terrifying. But somehow, by the end of the day, I felt alive in a way I hadn’t in weeks. That Sunday had been full — full of hearts beating fast, small gestures, nervous laughter, and new beginnings, all tangled together.