Chapter 9: Storms Within
970 Words
Bhola couldn't shake the moment.
The bench.
The words.
The way Joshua had handled the situation with Elijah—with grace, not aggression.
And yet, something inside her still trembled.
Maybe because she knew Elijah wasn't done.
And she was right.
Saturday morning. Bhola was tying her headwrap for service when her phone vibrated on the dresser.
A message.
From an unknown number.
She opened it.
"Since you won't let me say it face-to-face: I never meant to hurt you. But I remember who you used to be when you weren't pretending to be so holy. You miss the old you, too. You just won't admit it."
Her heart dropped.
Elijah had gone from nostalgic to manipulative.
To spiteful.
This wasn't about closure.
This was a power play.
She stared at the message, blood draining from her face.
He didn't want to rebuild anything. He wanted to pull her back into who she used to be.
Bhola didn't tell anyone—not even Janelle. She went to the service, sang worship with shaking hands, and smiled at people with a hollow expression. But inside, she felt the familiar whisper of fear:
What if Elijah's right?
What if you're just faking it?
What if you haven't changed at all?
She couldn't focus. During the sermon, she barely heard a word. The enemy was loud, and her defences were weak.
After the closing prayer, she left without saying a word to anyone—not even Joshua, who sat two rows behind her.
Joshua noticed and watched her walk away.
No smile. No nod. No warmth.
She wasn't cold.
She looked... crushed.
And he felt it in his gut.
The Lord had nudged him that morning during prayer: "You'll need to fight in the Spirit today."
He hadn't known what it meant—until now.
He stepped outside and saw her pacing near the chapel garden, phone in hand, face flushed.
"Bhola," he said, carefully.
She spun around like she'd been caught mid-breakdown.
"I'm fine," she said too quickly.
"You're not," he replied, calmly.
And then she cracked.
"I hate that he still has access to me," she whispered. "I hate that after everything I've done to move forward, one text can make me feel like I'm drowning again."
Joshua didn't speak.
She needed to empty.
"I didn't even respond. But I wanted to. Just to prove him wrong. Just to say something bold. But I knew it would just pull me back in, and I..." her voice broke, "I don't trust myself as much as I thought I did."
She pressed her palms to her eyes.
Joshua finally stepped closer.
"Show me the message."
Bhola hesitated.
Joshua didn't flinch. "I'm not asking to control you. I'm asking to pray strategically."
She swallowed hard and handed him the phone.
Joshua read the message slowly, his brows furrowing—not in jealousy, not in rage—but in something deeper.
Righteous grief.
When he looked up, his eyes were sharp. Clear.
"This isn't just manipulation," he said softly. "This is spiritual warfare."
He took a deep breath.
"Bhola," he said, his tone suddenly different—firmer. "I need you to hear me very clearly. This is not your guilt to carry. This man is using memory like a leash. And I refuse to let him drag you back into a false identity."
Bhola blinked.
She had never seen Joshua like this.
He wasn't raising his voice. He wasn't being dramatic.
But there was power in his presence.
Like the calm before a storm that clears the sky.
Joshua looked up, jaw tight.
"Enough is enough," he whispered, almost to himself.
And then he did something Bhola didn't expect.
He walked closer to Bhola, putting his hand on her shoulder. Bhola breath, now stuck in her throat, as he whispered, "Let us pray", and began to pray.
Right there in the open.
Voice steady. Authority sharp.
"In the name of Jesus, bind every spirit of accusation, confusion, manipulation, and shame. Cancel the enemy's assignment against Bhola's mind. She is not a prisoner of her past. She is the daughter of Jesus."
Several students nearby turned. Eyes staring at them.
Despite the piercing stares. Joshua didn't stop.
"Every word curse spoken over her—known or unknown—falls powerless. Her identity is sealed by the blood of Jesus. And I declare peace where fear once lived.Amen."
He turned back to Bhola.
And in the kindest tone she'd ever heard from anyone, he said,
"Block his number."
She nodded, trembling.
"Now."
With shaking fingers, she opened her contacts.
Blocked the number.
Confirm.
Joshua's expression softened. "Good."
They sat in silence on the chapel steps.
Bhola's hands were still trembling.
"I didn't know you had that in you," she whispered.
Bhola exhaled. "Neither did I."
She looked at him, eyes glossy.
"That wasn't just a prayer," she said. "That was war."
Joshua glanced at her. "It was."
And then he added, almost as an afterthought, "I've never felt that protective over someone before..."
Bhola didn't respond.
She didn't need to.
Her silence said everything.
Later That Night~~~
Back in her dorm, Bhola journaled with tears dotting the page.
"He fought for me in prayer. Not pride. Not performance. Just prayer. And it broke something inside me. Not in a bad way—in a good way. In a way that makes me feel... safe."
End of Chapter 9~~
Joshua's Journal
" I needed to console her in prayer. I just couldn't stay quiet while the enemy whispered lies to her. I care more than I want to admit. But I also know this: I'd rather fight for her in the Spirit than flirt with her in the flesh. If this is real, God will breathe upon it. If it's not, I'll still be her brother in Christ."
- Writer
