CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO “CONVINCED”

©Opeyemi Akintunde
Inspired by the Greatest Storyteller

Teju’s POV

“Come up hither.”

The voice was not loud.

It was not dramatic.

It did not shake the walls or split the air.

Yet it landed inside me with such authority that I straightened instinctively, like a soldier responding to a command he did not even realize he had been waiting for.

“Come up hither.”

I froze.

Come up to where?

My heart began to pound, not from fear, but from recognition. I had grown up in church long enough to know that voice did not belong to panic, imagination, or exhaustion.

With trembling hands, I picked up my phone and typed the words into my search bar.

Revelation 4:1.

I read it slowly.

“Come up hither, and I will show thee things which must be hereafter.”

A strange calm washed over me, replacing the confusion that had been choking me for hours. It felt as though God had quietly stepped into the chaos and drawn a boundary around me.

Other scriptures began to rise inside my spirit, one after the other, uninvited but unmistakable.

“Be still and know that I am God.”
“Come ye yourselves apart into a desert place, and rest a while.”
“Stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord.”

Separation.

Not escape.

Not abandonment.

Separation.

God was calling me away from the noise… away from the accusations… away from the humiliation… away from Imade… away from the expectations of both families… away from the marriage that had become a battlefield without weapons or victory.

I wiped my face and stood up slowly.

Where could I go?

Not a hotel… too public.

Not a friend’s house… too many questions.

Not church… too many well-meaning people who would talk instead of listen.

Then it came to me.

A place I had visited once during a youth retreat years ago… a quiet prayer centre on the outskirts of town. No traffic noise. No social media. No interruptions. Just silence… trees… and the sound of your own thoughts until God’s voice became louder than them.

Yes.

That was where I needed to be.

I stepped out of the room and into the living room.

My parents had already left.

My father-in-law too.

Only my mother-in-law and Imade remained, standing opposite each other like two people speaking completely different languages.

I had not meant to overhear, but the tension in the air made the words impossible to ignore.

“Imade,” her mother was saying, her voice shaking with controlled anger, “you are going opposite your name. Your name is a prophecy. It is intentional. You are falling from the height God has placed you.”

Imade stood with her arms folded, her face set in that stubborn expression I had come to know too well.

“Teju is God’s gift to you,” her mother continued. “He is your cover. Do you even know what he is protecting you from?”

Imade gave a small, dismissive laugh.

“Mummy, let me guess… you are repeating your prophet’s words again.”

Her tone was not just disrespectful… it was weary, irritated, as though she had outgrown something everyone else was still clinging to.

“Mummy, please tell him I am not interested.”

The sound of the slap cut through the room like thunder.

Imade staggered back slightly, her hand flying to her cheek, her eyes wide more in shock than pain.

“You are talking like your brain has gone on vacation!” her mother snapped, voice breaking. “What does that Daniel have that Teju does not have? Ha! This girl has disgraced me.”

Something inside me could not bear it any longer.

I stepped forward.

“Mum… it’s okay.”

Both of them turned toward me.

Imade’s eyes flickered briefly… relief? guilt? indifference? I could not tell anymore.

“Please don’t be hard on her,” I said gently.

Then I looked at Imade directly.

“Imade… I will leave the house for a few days.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly.

“No one will be here to cloud you,” I continued. “Please… think over your decisions well.”

For the first time in a long while, she looked at me without hostility.

“Thank you, Teju… for understanding.”

Understanding.

If only she knew how little I understood.

Her mother hissed sharply, disgusted, and turned away, walking toward the corridor like someone who had given up trying to rescue a drowning person who kept swimming away from the boat.

I followed her.

“Mummy,” I called softly.

She stopped but did not turn immediately. When she finally did, her eyes were wet.

“There is something more than meets the eye,” I said quietly. “Imade is not in her right senses.”

Saying it out loud made it feel even more real.

“I am going for a retreat,” I continued. “Let’s pray for her.”

Her shoulders sagged slightly, as though the words gave her permission to hope again… or at least to stop fighting alone.

She nodded slowly.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

No accusations.

No drama.

Just two people who had finally admitted that this situation could not be solved by arguments, pride, or parental authority.

Only God.

I walked back into the house one last time.

Imade was standing by the window, staring outside as though something out there made more sense than what was happening inside.

For a moment, I wanted to say something… anything… to reach her.

But the voice echoed again in my spirit.

Come up hither.

Not sideways.

Not backwards.

Up.

I picked up my car keys, took a small bag, and walked out of the house quietly.

No announcement.

No dramatic exit.

Just obedience.

As I drove away, the city lights blurred through my tears, but for the first time in two years, the heaviness on my chest began to lift… not because my problems were solved… but because I was going to the burden bearer.

To be continued…

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