F.A.T-Chapter Four

I shoveled a spoonful of Colostone ice cream into my mouth and grinned as Alfred sulked. He still refused to tell me what Mum had said to him. I tried not to laugh, but his sad puppy face was priceless. Honestly, he should be glad, between Mum and Funke, he had people keeping him in check.

“Heyyy, cheer up. You brought me out to make me happy, don’t go all moody on me.” I flicked my spoon, sending a perfect shot of ice cream onto his white Polo.

“Heyyy!” he flared.

“Heyyy yourself,” I mimicked with exaggerated annoyance, then stood to leave.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.” “Home?”

“Yes. I don’t like jerks.”

As I brushed past him, he tugged my arm, smiling. “Sit.” I gave him a look.

He chuckled. “Please sit.”

I obeyed, smug at the sweet mess melting on his Polo.

“I’ll get you for that,” he warned.

“God didn’t teach you to revenge.”

“I’m getting a lot of lectures these days. I must really suck at being a believer.”

“Amen, brother.”

He snickered and dabbed a bit of ice cream onto my nose, grinning mischievously.

By the time I texted Funke, my shirt was dripping, and my nose felt like a freezer. Alfred only agreed to drop me at her place if I didn’t clean it off. I hate him.

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Funke cracked up the moment she saw me, her loud laugh echoing through the house as she slapped Alfred’s arm. “What happened to your nose and shirt?”

“You’re such a caring friend,” I said flatly, pointing at my soaked shirt.

“You strawberries come in,” she grinned. “I’m home alone, no interruptions.”

“Did you cook?” Alfred asked hopefully.

“Heyyy, you promised to!” Alfred grimaced.

“Ha! Got you, finally.” I shook my head, watching them banter.

Inside, Funke suddenly pointed at Alfred. “Kitchen. Now.” He groaned but obeyed.

“Okay, spill,” I narrowed my eyes at her. “What do you have on him?”

She smirked. “Oh, nothing. Just that he swore he’d never step foot in my house. And if he did, he owed me his best dish.”

I laughed. “Wow, that’s a dope bet.”

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Later that week, after a draining prep night for Mrs. Iyetule’s class, I was dragging myself toward my lecture hall when a tall guy intercepted me.

“Do I know you?” I asked. He smiled. “Nah. But I know you.” Here we go, I thought.

“You’re new? Need help finding your way? I’m Adaobi,”

He cut me off. “I’m Tunde Adelayo. And no, I’m not new. We attend the same church. My mum asked me to confirm the date for the women’s brunch.”

Heat flushed my cheeks. “Oh. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking clearly. The 24th.”

He chuckled. “Really? You don’t normally jump to conclusions?”

I laughed awkwardly. “Okay… maybe sometimes. Anyway, have a blessed day, Tunde.”

I dashed into class, praying silently, Lord Jesus, please don’t let me doze off.

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That night, I tiptoed to the fridge for Colo Banana–flavoured ice cream when Chinaza caught me red-handed.

“What are you doing?” she frowned, half-asleep.

“Why are you out of bed?”

“That’s not the answer to my question.”

“Okay, miss judge,” I teased. “I couldn’t sleep. Wanted Colo Banana ice cream. Case closed.”

“I don’t want to be a judge,” she pouted.

“Then stop interrogating me like one.”

I tickled her until she giggled, whispering, “I love you, big sis.”

My heart softened. “I love you too.”

I tucked her into my bed before sneaking back down.

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My phone buzzed at 5 a.m. “Yeah?” I croaked.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” “Alfred, what do you want?”

“You lack patience.” “ALFRED.”

“Fine, fine. We need to talk.”

“At 5 a.m.? Goodbye.” I hung up.

Later that day, he appeared at my door with puff-puff in his mouth.

“Touch that again, and I’ll—”

“Relax,” he said. “Let’s talk.”

“About what?” “Plans.”

"Plans?”

“Like work. Marriage. Stuff like that.”

I blinked. “Why the sudden interest in my future?”

“That kiss.” I froze. “Oh… that kiss. What about it?”

“I’ve been thinking about it. I want us to talk about where this is going.”

I stared. “Excuse me?”

“I mean… I want us to take this seriously.”

I shook my head. “Alfred, the only relationship we have is friendship. What’s going on with you?”

“I can’t stop thinking about it.”

He looked at me intently. “Let’s give us another try.”

I exhaled slowly. Lord Jesus, guide me. I promised to only choose the man You created for me. Don’t let me make choices outside Your will.

When I opened my eyes, I asked gently, “Alfred, are you ready for marriage?”

He hesitated. “…No.”

"Exactly. I’m not interested in a relationship without direction. If God wills it, and if marriage is His plan, then maybe. But if you’re just looking for something casual, this is the wrong station.”

His mouth opened, but I raised a hand. “Please, let’s not have this conversation again. There’s fruit salad in the fridge. Boruto on my laptop. And I need to wake Chinaza.”

I ended the conversation there and shifted back into big-sister mode.

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Zipping up my pink lace gown, I slipped on my pumps, locked the front door, and slid behind the steering wheel. The ignition purred to life. My eyes softened when they caught the bundle of joy God had entrusted to me, Chinaza, already perched with a tiny mirror in her hand, tilting her face this way and that. I hid my smile and drove off.

The church was alive with chatter, instruments, and the hum of expectancy. As soon as I stepped into the courtyard, the questions began.

“Ada, where’s your mum?”

“Adaobi, is your mother around?”

“I didn’t see her at the women’s brunch, has she travelled?”

I smiled politely and repeated my well-rehearsed answer. She travelled.

Someone pressed further, asking, to where? But I let it end there. My mother had always loved her privacy. Even when I was little, she would say, As long as Jesus Christ knows, no one else needs to.

I squeezed Chinaza’s hand and led her inside. We found a seat just before she mischievously pulled out her little mirror again.

“Chinaza, put that away,” I whispered.

She obeyed, pouting slightly.

Pastor Matthew climbed the pulpit, his smile radiant. “Good morning, believers of Christ.”

“Good morning, Pastor,” the congregation chorused.

“Let’s rise to our feet as we pray to our Father.”

We stood. While heads bowed, I reached into Chinaza’s bag and quietly confiscated the mirror, tucking it into mine.

“Our impartation of God’s word today,” Pastor’s voice rang out, “is SHOW YOUR WISDOM IN THE TIME OF HARVEST. Our texts are from Ecclesiastes 3, Proverbs 10:5, Ecclesiastes 12:13, John 15:16, Exodus 31:3, and John 4:38. These passages will guide us.”

He paced gently as he spoke.

“God cannot ask from you what He hasn’t deposited inside you. Wisdom is the proper application of knowledge to achieve purpose. And the duty of man is this, fear God.”

1. Produce Fruits. John 15:16, Matthew 11:28–30. You must love God deeply and stay intimately attached to Him. Mark 8:34–38; 15:16—reach out to the souls of men.

2. Cause Your Fruits to Remain. What you achieve for God, does it remain, or is it a thing of the past? Proverbs 1:5 urges us to give ourselves to the doctrine of Christ. Proverbs 21:22.

Teach others.

Visit believers. Build friendships. 1 Corinthians 14:49—establish order and unity.

3. Give Yourself to the Supply Line. Titus 1:5—be counted among those who bring people into the matchless name of Christ, not those who draw them away.

“Now rise,” Pastor’s voice softened, “and pray that God will have mercy on us, and make us live as true doers and supply-liners of His word.”

We prayed. Pleaded. Confessed. My spirit stirred; I knew God was working in our favor. Soon after, offering was taken, hymns lifted, and grace shared.

As people shuffled out, Chinaza rifled through her bag and frowned.

“Looking for this?” I teased, holding up the mirror just beyond her reach.

“C’mon, give it back!” she whined.

A voice behind us chuckled. “You must really love your face to bring a mirror to church.”

Chinaza and I turned. There stood a tall, fair-skinned young man with a chiseled build, neatly cut dark hair, and eyebrows so perfectly arched they looked intentional. He smiled.

Chinaza elbowed me. I quickly regained composure. Something about him seemed familiar, though I couldn’t place it.

“And I assume making assumptions is your forte?” I quipped, hands on hips.

He laughed. “Touché. My mistake. Hope you both enjoyed service?”

Chinaza frowned, then giggled, stretching out her tiny hand to shake his. He bent slightly and shook her hand warmly, then turned his gaze to me.

“You’ve forgotten who I am, haven’t you?”

I sighed, surrendering. “Yes, I have.”

“The name’s Tunde. Tunde Adelayo.”

Memory clicked, and I smiled. The guy I brushed off in class. “Oh, I’m so sorry about that day. I was exhausted.”

“I understand,” he grinned. “See you in school, okay?”

“Definitely. Have a blessed day.”

“Same to you, milady.”

He crouched and ruffled Chinaza’s hair playfully. She laughed and clung to him as though they’d been friends forever. My heart tugged. For a moment, I wondered how I’d ever convince her to let go when the time came.

Tunde straightened up, gave me a polite nod, and then gestured toward the car. I led the way, opened the backseat, and watched him help Chinaza settle in safely. She waved until he was out of sight.