Holy, Until Him

Church that Sunday felt different. Maybe it was the way the sun hit the stained-glass windows. Or maybe it was the boy standing near the usher’s stand, hands tucked in his pockets, head slightly bowed as the choir, my choir, sang “Holy are You Lord.” My name is Ella, and if you knew me a few years ago, you’d probably call me “that church girl.” First row every Sunday, always in choir practice, never missing Bible study. No boyfriend. No drama. Just worship, school, and vibe. That was me. I was in my robe, sweating and praying I wouldn’t miss the high note. I had no idea someone was watching me like I was the sermon. After the service, I was headed to the restroom when he stopped me. "You sing like you’ve seen God before," he said, a soft voice, Lagos accent mixed with something quieter. I smiled and said jokingly, “I have. I mean that’s the goal.” "Hmm” came his response He introduced himself as Ronald, 22. Back home from school. Our pastor’s son!. I was surprised how normal and calm he was, too calm sef. The type that didn’t talk too much but always looked like he was thinking something deep. You know those boys that make you feel like you’re safe even when you’re not sure why? That was him. That day, we didn’t exchange numbers. He just said, “If you ever feel like texting me…” and handed me his. I stared at that number for three days. Then I finally said hi. He replied in 10 seconds. And just like that, the love story began, at least not the one I had expected, with a message from the girl who thought being good would keep her safe.