His Beloved

Intrigued

Episode Two

Intrigued

Juwon adjusted the microphone at the pulpit, preparing to make the announcement about the youth outreach. He had done this countless times before, spoken to the congregation with the same calm authority that came naturally to him. But today, something was different.

As he began to speak, his eyes swept across the sanctuary, and that was when he saw her.

She sat in the middle section, and what caught his attention first were her eyes. Brown, warm, and fixed directly on him. Then he noticed her hair, also brown, framing a face that was strikingly fair. She wore a blue and peach flowery gown that fitted her in a way that made his breath catch for just a moment.

Their eyes met briefly, and his heart skipped a beat.

He quickly looked away, forcing himself to focus on the words he was supposed to be saying. “We’ll be organizing an outreach to Lekki Conservation Centre this Christmas season,” he continued, his voice steady despite the sudden distraction. “It’s more of a retreat for our youth, and we’re looking forward to a time of fellowship and spiritual growth.”

But even as he spoke, he was acutely aware of her presence. He did not dare look in her direction again.

After the service, Juwon was standing near the front when the choir director called out to him. “Pastor! This young lady wants to join the choir, but I need to attend to the first timers. Can you please take her number?”

He turned, and there she was. Up close, she was even more captivating. The flowery gown, the way she carried herself, the slight nervousness in her eyes.

“Of course,” he said, his voice gentle. “What’s your name?”

“Gbemisola,” she replied. “Gbemisola Gbadamosi.”

“Beautiful name,” he said, meaning it. He pulled out his phone and began typing carefully, storing her information. As he finished, their hands brushed, just barely.

The warmth that spread through him at that simple contact was unexpected. Her skin was incredibly soft, and for a fleeting moment, he wanted to reach for her hand again. But he kept his expression neutral, professional.

She smelled like strawberries, sweet and fresh, and he found himself leaning in slightly before catching himself.

“All set,” he said, looking up with what he hoped was a calm smile. “Someone will contact you this week about choir rehearsals.”

“Thank you, Pastor,” she said softly.

He was about to say something else, something to keep the conversation going, when Rita appeared at his side.

“Pastor, I left my Bible and notes in the prayer room. Do you have the keys?” Rita whispered, leaning close.

Juwon reached into his pocket and handed her the keys. “Of course.”

“Thank you, Juwon,” Rita said warmly, using his first name as she always did. She smiled at him before walking away.

When he turned back, Gbemisola was already leaving, moving quickly toward the exit. He watched her go, noting the way she walked, the determination in her steps. Had he said something wrong? Or had Rita’s appearance unsettled her?

He shook his head slightly. It did not matter. He had her number stored safely in his phone under her full name: Gbemisola Gbadamosi.

Later that afternoon, Juwon sat in traffic on the Third Mainland Bridge, his car barely inching forward. The Lagos traffic was relentless as always, but today he did not mind it as much. It gave him time to think.

Her face kept appearing in his mind. Those brown eyes. That brown hair. The softness of her skin when their hands had touched. The scent of strawberries that still seemed to linger in his senses.

He tried to push the thoughts away, but they kept coming back, insistent and overwhelming.

The last time he had felt anything remotely like this was in his final year at university. Jane. She had been everything to him then, or so he had thought. But when she traveled out of the country, the relationship had simply ended, fading into nothing more than a memory of what could have been.

He had not allowed himself to feel this way since then. Had not wanted to.

But now, sitting in traffic with the sun beginning to set over Lagos, he could not deny that something had shifted. Gbemisola had awakened something in him, something he thought he had buried a long time ago.

At work the next day, Juwon found himself distracted. He sat at his desk in the construction company’s office, staring at project reports that blurred together on the screen. His mind kept drifting back to Sunday, to the choir director calling him over, to the way Gbemisola had said her name.

During lunch, he pulled out his phone and opened his social media apps. He typed in her full name: Gbemisola Gbadamosi.

Nothing.

He tried different variations, different spellings, searched through profiles and pages. But he could not find her. Disappointment settled in his chest, heavier than he expected. He set his phone down and stared at his half eaten lunch, no longer hungry.

Why was he even searching for her? What did he hope to find?

That evening, Juwon sat alone in his living room. The house was quiet, peaceful, but his mind was anything but. He picked up his phone and scrolled to his contacts, finding her name easily.

Gbemisola Gbadamosi.

He stared at the number for a long moment, his thumb hovering over the message icon. He should text her. Just something simple. A greeting. A welcome to the church. Something pastoral and appropriate.

But was that really what he wanted?

He opened the message screen and began typing.

Hi Gbemisola, this is Pastor Juwon from Hope of Glory. I wanted to personally welcome you to our church family.

He read it over once, twice. It sounded too formal, too distant. He deleted it.

Hi, it’s Juwon. Just wanted to check in and see how you’re settling into the church.

Too casual. He deleted it again.

Hello Gbemisola, this is Juwon. I hope you’re having a blessed week.

He stared at the words, his finger hovering over the send button. Then he thought about Rita, about the complicated situation he had been avoiding for too long. He thought about the fact that he was not even sure what he wanted. A relationship? Not yet. Maybe not ever. He had spent so long focusing on his ministry, on being the youth pastor everyone needed him to be, that he had forgotten how to simply be Juwon.

Maybe he just wanted a friend. Someone to talk to. Someone who made his heart skip a beat when their hands touched.

But was that fair to her? To reach out when he did not even know what he wanted?

He deleted the message.

Then he typed it again.

Then deleted it once more.

Juwon set his phone down on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch, running his hands over his face. Her number sat there in his contacts, so close and yet impossibly far away.

He picked up the phone one more time, opened the message screen, and stared at the empty text box.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling slightly with indecision.