https://www.facebook.com/145868661933196/

Jumie Naths Stories, Garki, Garki (2025)

28/09/2025

“Double Identity”

Episode Twenty-Seven

The morning began like any other.

Sunlight slipped through the cream curtains of the cheerful living room. Nse was bustling about the kitchen, preparing breakfast for the family, while Itoro, now four years old, was giggling over her baby brother’s attempts to crawl. Amaechi sat at the edge of the couch with his Bible open on his lap, jotting down thoughts for Sunday’s sermon.

It was a peaceful Saturday morning—until his phone rang.

The number flashing on the screen made his brow furrow. It was his aunt, his father’s elder sister, someone who rarely called unless the matter was urgent. He hesitated for a second, then swiped to answer.

“Aunty, good morning,” he greeted warmly.

But her voice was hurried, heavy with emotion. “Amaechi… you need to come home.”

Something in her tone made his heart sink. “What is it?”

There was silence, then a trembling sigh. “It’s your mother… Gloria. She’s dying. You need to come now.”

The words hit him like a thunderclap. For a moment, the room blurred, his breath catching in his chest.

“What?!” His voice cracked. “What do you mean dying? Aunty, what happened?”

“She collapsed yesterday,” she explained, choking on tears. “The doctors say it’s her heart. She has been under so much stress… Henry’s stubbornness, the church pressures… and she has been hiding how sick she was. Amaechi, if you want to see your mother alive, come quickly.”

The phone nearly slipped from his hand. His chest tightened with a mixture of fear and guilt. He rose from the couch abruptly, startling Nse, who appeared at the doorway with concern etched on her face.

“What is it?” she asked softly, almost afraid of the answer.

Amaechi turned to her, eyes wet and voice unsteady. “It’s mum. She’s dying.”

The words hung in the air like smoke.

The journey to his parents’ home felt endless. Each bump of the road, each turn, seemed to stretch time further than his anxious heart could bear. Nse sat beside him, holding his hand tightly, whispering prayers under her breath. Their children were left in the care of a trusted church member.

Amaechi’s mind raced. Memories of his mother flooded him—her smile when she held his newborn son, her whispered words of encouragement, her gentle presence at every secret visit. And now, the thought of losing her felt unbearable.

When they arrived, the compound looked the same as it always had, but the air was heavy, almost suffocating. His aunt met them at the gate, her eyes swollen from weeping.

“She’s inside,” she said quietly.

Amaechi rushed past her, into the house that had once been his home but now felt foreign. And there, in the master bedroom, he saw her—Pastor Gloria—lying weakly on the bed, her skin pale, her breath shallow.

“Mum,” His voice cracked as he fell to his knees by her side.

Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice. Weak, but still filled with love, they found him. “Amaechi… my son.”

Hot tears rolled down his face as he took her frail hand in his. “Mum, please don’t leave me. Please don’t go.”

She smiled faintly, her lips trembling. “I told you… no one could keep me from you. Not even death.”

Nse stood quietly at the doorway, tears streaming down her cheeks as she watched the sacred reunion between mother and son. She remembered the countless times this woman had defied her husband’s anger just to hold her grandchildren, to whisper love where others spoke rejection.

“Who let them in?” Pastor Henry’s voice boomed from behind them.

Everyone turned. He stood at the doorway, his face etched with a mixture of authority and fear, as though even now he could not decide which role to play—husband, pastor, or father.

“I did. He has a right to be here.” Amaechi’s Aunt responded.
Amaechi’s jaw clenched, but he refused to leave his mother’s side. “Don’t you dare stop me,” he said, his voice shaking with both anger and grief. “If this is the last time I’ll see my mother, I will not let your pride stand in the way.”

Pastor Henry’s lips tightened, but he said nothing. For the first time, his towering presence seemed to crumble in the face of a reality he could not control.

Pastor Gloria squeezed her son’s hand weakly. “Amaechi… Nse…” She glanced at her daughter-in-law with tender eyes. “Take care of each other. Take care of the children. Don’t let bitterness steal what God has given you.”

Her chest rose and fell, each breath a struggle. “And… Amaechi… forgive your father. Even if he never asks.”

Her words pierced the silence, settling like weights in the room.

Amaechi shook his head, sobbing. “Mum, don’t talk like that. Please, you’re not leaving me.”

But her smile widened slightly, as though she could already see something beyond them. She whispered, “The Lord is my shepherd…” and her voice trailed off.

A stillness filled the room.

Amaechi felt her hand grow limp in his. His cries filled the air, raw and unrestrained. “Mum! Mum, please!”

Nse rushed to his side, wrapping her arms around him as her own tears fell freely.

Pastor Henry rushed into the room when he heard Amaechi’s cry. He looked utterly broken. He stood frozen at the door, his face pale, his shoulders trembling. The woman who had stood by him, endured with him, covered his flaws and bore his storms—was gone.

And in that moment, the rift between father and son seemed both wider than ever and yet—perhaps—the only bridge left for healing.

Thanks for reading,
TBC
Jumie Naths Stories

27/09/2025

“Double Identity”

Episode Twenty-Six

Two years had passed since the scandal that had shaken the Momoh household to its core. Time had dulled some of the sharp edges of the pain, but the wounds of disownment had not fully healed. Pastor Henry had not spoken a word to Amaechi or Nse since the day he cast them out from his church and from his family. His silence was as loud as his condemnation had once been, a wall that refused to crack.

But Pastor Gloria—gentle, tender-hearted, and deeply torn—could not abide by that silence. She had managed to hold herself together for the sake of her husband and the church, but her heart could not deny the bond of blood. When Nse gave birth to her second child, a healthy baby boy, Gloria could not resist. She told herself she was only going once, just to see the child. But once turned into twice, and twice turned into a habit.

“No one,” she whispered to her grandson one afternoon, as she cradled the newborn in her arms, “no one will keep me from my grandson.”

Her voice trembled as she looked at Nse, who sat beside her, still recovering from childbirth. Nse’s eyes filled with tears at the sight of her mother-in-law rocking the child, her heart torn between joy and guilt. She knew these visits came at a cost.

Amaechi often stood back, watching in silence. The sight of his mother holding his son warmed him, but it also pained him. He could see how much she risked each time she came.

And risk it was.

For months, Pastor Gloria kept her visits hidden, sneaking out under the pretense of errands, her loyalty split down the middle—half to her husband, half to her son. But secrets have a way of unraveling, and it wasn’t long before Pastor Henry found out.

The confrontation came one evening in their sitting room. Pastor Henry’s voice thundered, his face twisted in fury.

“You have betrayed me, Gloria! Sneaking around behind my back to visit them?”

Gloria tried to explain, her hands trembling. “Honey, they are our children. Our grandchildren. How can you ask me to cut them off completely? What wrong has a child done to deserve rejection?”

But Henry was unmoved. His pride and fear of scandal still ruled his heart. “The wrong, Gloria, is in their bloodline. That woman—” he refused to call Nse by name— “dragged our name through the mud. Do you want to undo the years I’ve spent rebuilding the reputation of this ministry?”

“It’s been two years, honey; it's time to let it all go. Our son misses us, and I know you miss him too. Please don’t let your pride continue to keep the family apart.

“You think it is pride? I am trying to salvage all we have worked for all this year. Gloria, if you continue this betrayal, you will force me to choose between my wife and my calling.” With that, he walked away.

The words cut deep. Gloria’s lips quivered, but she didn’t respond. She went to her room that night with tears streaming down her face. She knew what was at stake—her marriage, the church, her position—but the cry of her heart for her son and grandchildren was louder than all of it.

Meanwhile, outside the walls of Pastor Henry’s guarded empire, Amaechi and Nse’s lives had taken on a new rhythm.

Their ministry had grown slowly but steadily. What had begun under mango trees in the inlands now stood under a simple but sturdy church roof. The building wasn’t grand—painted walls, wooden pews, a small platform—but it was theirs. And though their congregation was small, it was alive.

People came not because of tradition or obligation, but because they felt something real. They came to be healed, to be restored, to find hope.

And much of that hope came through Nse’s voice.

On Sundays, when she stood before the congregation, the room hushed. Her singing was not a performance; it was a prayer woven into melody. Each note carried the weight of her journey, the scars of her past, and the strength of her redemption. People wept, lifted their hands, and some even testified that her voice drew them to God more than sermons ever had.

Amaechi, too, had found his stride. His prayers carried fire, not rehearsed oratory. When he prayed, people felt heaven draw close. Together, he and Nse became a force—her voice opening hearts, his prayers sealing them.

They weren’t the largest church in the city, but those who belonged to them were fiercely committed. It was a family knit together by grace, bound by truth, and hungry for God.

Yet, as their congregation grew, so did unseen shadows. Tragedy has a way of sneaking in unannounced, of lurking behind doors when joy seems most secure.

For all their growth, Nse and Amaechi did not see it coming.

In those days, their lives were full. Between raising Itoro, their daughter, and caring for their newborn son, between ministry trips and late-night strategy meetings, they barely had time to notice anything beyond their immediate world. They were building something beautiful, a testimony rising from ashes.

One Saturday evening, after service preparations were done, Nse sat by the window of their living room, rocking her baby in her arms. The golden rays of sunset poured in, casting her face in a warm glow. She hummed softly, unaware that she was being watched.

Amaechi entered quietly, standing in the doorway, just staring at her.

“You know,” he said, breaking the silence, “every time I see you like this, I thank God I didn’t listen to my father.”

Nse looked up, her lips curving into a small smile. “And I thank God you didn’t give up on me.”

They shared a quiet moment, a kind of peace that only comes after storms.

But peace, like glass, is fragile. And theirs was about to be tested in ways neither could have imagined.

For unknown to them, tragedy was already on its way. A tragedy that would shake their family and force them to decide whether their faith could truly hold when the ground beneath them gave way.

Thanks for reading.
TBC
Jumie Naths Stories

26/09/2025

“Double Identity”

Episode Twenty-Five

Amaechi, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together. “Nse,” he began, “there’s something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you long before now.”

Her throat went dry. She braced herself.

“As a young man back in the university. You wouldn’t have recognized me then. I was lost. Reckless. Hungry to belong. That’s how I got caught up with the cult. We thought we were powerful, invincible… until the day it all crumbled. An innocent person was shot when two rival cults clashed, and I was framed. Suddenly, my name was on every lip, and shame fell heavy on my family. My mother wept for weeks. My father… you know how strict he is. He was disappointed. But they stood by me and tried everything they could to get me out of prison”

He paused, swallowing hard, as though tasting the bitterness of those memories.

“I remember one night, in the cell, I fell on my knees and begged God: ‘If You deliver me from this, if You clear my name, I will serve You all the days of my life.’” His voice cracked. “And God heard me. The case turned, one of my lecturers, who I was with at the time of the clash, who didn’t want to get involved, came out. The real culprits were caught, and my parents—though disappointed—chose to forgive me. They sent me overseas to start afresh. And that’s where I met the Lord truly, not just as a cry for rescue but as my Saviour.”

Nse’s eyes glistened with tears, her lips trembling.

“A couple of days ago in my dream,” Amaechi continued, “the Lord asked me: Why do you think Nse’s sin is greater than yours? He showed me my mother’s tears, my father’s disappointment, the church’s gossip when they found out about me. He asked, If your parents forgave you, why can’t you forgive her? If I could redeem you, why can’t I redeem her?”

Tears slipped down his cheeks now. “Nse, I woke up weeping. And I knew—I had no right to cast you away. Because if I did, I’d be spitting on the mercy God showed me.”

Nse covered her face with her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. “Amaechi… I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.”

He reached forward, gently pulling her hands away. “Neither of us deserves anything. That’s what grace is, my love. And grace is what will keep us standing.”

He took her hands in his, holding them firmly. “Nse, tonight, I don’t just want to forgive you. I want us to start again. Not in pretense, not in hiding. But with Christ at the centre of our marriage. No more secrets. No more lies.”

She nodded vigorously, tears streaming. “Yes, yes, Amaechi. I don’t ever want to live that way again. I’m tired. I’m so tired.”

He smiled faintly, wiping her tears. “Then let’s pray. Let’s give this to God.”

They both slid down to their knees, side by side, Amaechi began to pray, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

“Father, you who saved me from destruction, you who gave me another chance when I did not deserve it—we bring our brokenness before You. Forgive us. Heal us. Rebuild us.”

Then, turning to Nse, he said softly, “Rededicate yourself to Him, my love. Give Him everything.”

Her voice shook as she prayed aloud, tears spilling: “Lord Jesus, I surrender. I’ve been hiding, pretending, carrying guilt I could never wash away. But tonight, I give it all to You. My past, my shame, my mistakes. Cleanse me. Fill me with Your Spirit. I want to truly belong to You.”

Amaechi placed his hand on hers. “Lord, you see her heart. Fill her with Your Spirit, the way You filled me.”

Nse felt an overwhelming peace wash over her. Her body trembled, her lips stumbled into words she did not understand, yet her soul felt light. She gasped, clutching Amaechi’s hand. “I… I feel Him,” she whispered. “Amaechi, I feel Him.”

He smiled through his tears. “That’s the Holy Spirit, Nse. You’re not alone anymore.”

They prayed longer, words pouring out, until their knees ached and their voices grew hoarse. But by the time they rose, something had shifted between them.

Amaechi pulled her into his arms. “From now on, we walk in the light. No more hiding. If ever you feel that old self pulling you, promise me you’ll come to me. Don’t run. Don’t fight it alone. We’ll face it together.”

Nse nodded against his chest. “I promise. And I’ll never keep anything from you again. You are my husband, my friend.”

“And I,” Amaechi said firmly, “will always be here for you. For you, for our daughter, for this family. The church may judge us, people will talk, but my covenant is with God—and with you.”

They sat in silence for a while, holding each other. Then Nse whispered, “Amaechi… thank you for choosing me again.”

He kissed her forehead. “It wasn’t me who chose, Nse. It was God who reminded me of His mercy. And if His mercy could find me, it can hold us both.”

That night, they fell asleep hand in hand, their hearts lighter than they had been in weeks. It was not the end of their battles, but it was the beginning of a new chapter—one anchored not in appearances or human strength, but in the mercy and power of God.

And as Nse drifted to sleep, she knew that for the first time in years, she was free.

The next morning felt unlike any other morning Nse had experienced. She woke up without the familiar heaviness in her chest. Instead, there was a quiet joy, like a lamp had been lit inside her heart. She couldn’t explain it fully, but she knew something had shifted.

Amaechi was already up, reading his Bible at the edge of the bed. When she stirred, he looked at her with a smile so tender it made her heart swell.

“Good morning, my love,” he said.

“Good morning,” she replied, her voice carrying an unusual brightness. She paused, searching for the right words. “Amaechi, I feel… new. As if I’ve been washed clean.”

“That’s because you have,” he said softly. “If any man is in Christ, he is a new creature. Old things have passed away, and behold, all things have become new.”

Nse hugged herself as if trying to cradle the newness inside her. For years, she had been in church, busy with activities, admired for her voice and presence, yet never truly free. She now realized she had been walking in shadows, performing without power, living outwardly righteous but inwardly empty.

Over the next few weeks, her growth became visible. Amaechi suggested they start a daily routine of prayer and Bible study together, and she agreed eagerly. At first, she felt clumsy, stumbling over scriptures and unsure of her own prayers. But gradually, the Word began to open to her like a flower unfolding in the sun.

One morning, she read aloud from the Psalms: “The Lord is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?”

She stopped mid-verse, her voice trembling. “Amaechi, do you know what this means? For so long, I was afraid—afraid of people’s judgment, of being found out, of never being good enough. But now, God Himself is my light. I don’t have to fear anymore!”

Amaechi reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “That’s revelation, Nse. That’s the Spirit teaching you.”

But growth wasn’t without its challenges. Some nights, Nse still battled with dreams from her past—images of the club, the blinding lights, the police arriving. The holding cell. She would wake up restless, her mind clouded with fear.

The first time it happened, she almost kept it to herself. Shame whispered that Amaechi would be disappointed. But then she remembered her promise: No secrets.

So, she shook him awake gently. “Amaechi, I need to talk. I just had a dream about the club again. It scared me.”

Instead of anger, Amaechi wrapped his arms around her and whispered a prayer over her. “Lord, thank You for breaking every chain. The past has no hold on her anymore. We rebuke every lie of the enemy. Nse belongs to You.”

Nse sobbed quietly in his embrace, not from fear, but from relief. For once, she didn’t have to carry her battles alone.

Her spiritual growth also began to affect her marriage. She and Amaechi laughed more, prayed more, and learned to communicate openly. Whenever disagreements arose, instead of storming off or retreating into silence, Nse tried to apply what she was learning—listening, forgiving quickly, and keeping God at the center.

One evening, while they were reading together, she turned to him with a newfound confidence. “Amaechi, I don’t just want to be your wife. I want to be your partner in ministry, your intercessor, your encourager. God gave you a calling, and I want to stand beside you in it.”

Amaechi reached over and kissed her. “And that, Nse, is all I ever wanted. A marriage where Christ is at the center, and we are both walking in step with Him.”

Nse was no longer just surviving a scandal. She was growing, blossoming, becoming.

Thanks for reading.
TBC
Jumie Naths Stories

25/09/2025

“Double Identity”

Episode Twenty-Four

Amaechi sat in his car for a long while before entering his father’s house again. The last conversation with Pastor Henry still echoed in his ears—the heavy words of finality, the cold demand that he cast his wife aside for the sake of the church’s reputation. He had not slept well in days.

But he knew he could not leave things unresolved. His parents had raised him to believe in truth, grace, and courage—even if, right now, they seemed to have forgotten those very values. Tonight, he would remind them.

When Amaechi finally walked into the living room, Pastor Henry was seated in his usual armchair, Bible on his lap, but closed. His eyes were sharp, watchful. His mother sat opposite him, a shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Her face was pale, and though her lips trembled as if she wanted to speak, she remained silent.

“Dad, Mum,” Amaechi greeted softly, bowing his head slightly in respect.

Pastor Henry nodded curtly. “Sit, Amaechi.”

Amaechi sat, steadying his breath. “Dad, I came tonight not just as your son, but as a man who must give an account of his actions before God. You asked me to divorce my wife, to abandon her for the sake of the church. But I cannot.”

The room grew still. Pastor Henry’s jaw tightened. His mother lowered her eyes.

“Why?” Pastor Henry’s voice was low, deliberate. “After all she has brought upon you—upon us, upon this ministry—you still want to cling to her?”

Amaechi swallowed hard, his mind racing through his dream; he had heard his father preach about it several times. “Papa, do you remember the woman caught in adultery?”

Pastor Henry’s eyes narrowed. “Of course.”

“You preached once,” Amaechi continued, “that her story revealed the heart of Christ—that He did not condemn her when everyone else raised stones. That grace lifted her where shame had buried her. Papa, isn’t Nse in the same place? A woman broken, accused, stripped of dignity, needing grace?”

His father’s silence was sharp.

Amaechi pressed on. “Do you remember my own story? Years ago, when I erred, when my mistakes brought shame to this family and to the church? You could have cast me aside then, Papa. But you didn’t. You forgave me. You sent me abroad to rebuild my life. If you could extend that mercy to me, your son, why can’t we extend the same to Nse, my wife?”

Pastor Henry shifted in his seat, his expression clouding. “It is not the same. You repented. You walked away from sin. This—” he waved his hand dismissively “—this woman lived a double life under our very noses. She deceived us. She deceived the congregation. People are saying the church is involved in those vile places because of her. Do you understand the magnitude? The integrity of this ministry is on the line, Amaechi. It is not just about you. It is about the flock.”

Amaechi’s chest tightened, but he held his father’s gaze. “And what about the Shepherd of the flock, Dad? What about the heart of Christ? You always taught me that the church is not about buildings or reputations—it’s about souls. If we throw Nse away now, what are we saying to the world? That we are guardians of reputation, not of grace?”

His mother gasped softly, her fingers clutching the edge of her shawl.

But Pastor Henry’s voice rose. “Enough, Amaechi! I have made my decision. If you insist on keeping her, you will destroy everything this family has built. You will ruin this ministry. The only way forward is to cut her off. Divorce her, and let the church heal.”

Amaechi’s heart pounded. He stood slowly, his hands trembling, but his voice steady. “Dad, I honour you. I respect you. But I cannot obey this command. I would rather obey the Lord than man—even if that man is my father. The Lord gave me Nse as my wife. You said that God told you she is my wife. To cast her away when she is broken would be to betray Him. I will not do it.”

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. His father’s eyes blazed with something between fury and sorrow.

“If you choose her over the church,” Pastor Henry said, his voice trembling with restrained anger, “then you are no son of mine. I will disown you. From this day forward, you will have nothing to do with this ministry.”

His mother burst into quiet sobs, her face buried in her hands.

Amaechi’s throat tightened, but he did not waver. “If that is the cost, then so be it. I would rather lose the church than lose my covenant before God. I would rather be disowned by man than abandon my wife whom God has commanded me to love.”

Pastor Henry’s face hardened. He rose from his chair, towering over his son. “So, you have made your choice.”

Amaechi nodded. “Yes, Dad. I have.”

His mother reached out weakly, whispering, “Honey…please…” but her words dissolved into tears.

Amachi bent down and kissed his hand gently. “Mama, I love you. But I must do what is right.”

Without waiting for another word, Amaechi turned and walked out of the house. Each step felt heavier than the last, but his resolve was clear. He had chosen grace over reputation, covenant over convenience. He had chosen Nse.

When Amaechi left his parents, he drove to the hotel where Nse was lodging. He may have cut her off, but he still kept tabs on her.

Nse was shocked to see him when she answered a knock on her door.

He walked in and sat on the couch. Nse sat beside him.

Amaechi reached for her hand, lifting her chin gently until their eyes met. “Listen to me. I’m just coming from my parents, and I told them I won’t divorce my wife. I told them I will not abandon you. My father may disown me, but I will not disown you.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Amaechi…”

“I reminded Dad of grace. Of how Christ forgave the woman caught in adultery. Of how they forgave me when I fell. And I told him—I told him I would rather obey God than him. Nse, you are my wife. I will rebuild our home with you. No matter what it costs.”

For a long moment, she stared at him, her lips trembling. Then she broke into sobs, falling into his arms.

Amaechi held her tightly, his own tears streaming down his face. “We will rise again, Nse,” he whispered against her hair. “Not by our strength, but by His. Let the world say what it wants. Let the church reject us if it must. But God has not rejected you, and neither have I.”

The two of them clung to each other as though the world outside no longer mattered. Nse felt peace; she knew the journey would not be easy, but with Amaechi by her side, it would be worth it.

Amaechi had chosen her. And together, they would walk whatever path lay ahead—broken, bruised, but not abandoned.

Thanks for reading.
TBC.
Jumie Naths Stories.

24/09/2025

“Double Identity”

Episode Twenty-Three

The morning light had barely begun to seep through the curtains of Nse’s hotel room when a sharp knock jolted her from her restless sleep. She sat up, heart pounding, wondering who could possibly be at her door so early. For a moment, she considered ignoring it, but the knock came again—firm, deliberate.

She dragged herself to the door and opened it just a crack. Standing there was the hotel manager, his usual polite smile tinged with an odd seriousness.

“Madam,” he said in his measured tone, “there is someone here to see you. An important visitor. They are waiting in my office.”

Nse blinked in confusion. “Someone… to see me? This early?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “They insisted it was urgent.”

Her mind raced. Could it be Amaechi? No, he had only left late last night after sitting with her in silence. Could it be his father, Pastor Henry, finally coming to deliver the final blow himself? Or worse, the press? The thought made her stomach twist.

“Alright,” she said quietly. “Give me a moment.”

She dressed quickly, her hands trembling as she pulled on a simple gown and tied her scarf. Her thoughts churned with fear and dread as she walked the narrow hallway toward the manager’s office. Each step felt like she was being led to a courtroom where judgment awaited.

When she reached the door, the manager gave her a reassuring nod and opened it for her.

The moment Nse stepped inside, her breath caught in her throat. Seated across the desk was Pastor Gloria—her calm, compassionate face radiant even in the plain light of the office. For a moment, Nse froze, rooted to the spot.

Before she could even register the shock of seeing her, a small voice pierced the air.

“Mummy!”

Nse’s head whipped around, and there she was, her daughter, little Itoro, rushing toward her with arms wide open, her face lighting up with joy.

Her knees nearly buckled. She dropped to the floor as Itoro leapt into her arms, clinging to her neck. Tears blurred her vision as she kissed her cheeks again and again, the word tumbling from her lips in broken whispers.

“My baby… my Itoro… oh, my baby.”

She laughed, not fully grasping the depth of her emotions, just happy to see her mother.

“Mummy, I missed you.”

Nse’s sobs grew heavier, her body shaking as she held her close, inhaling the familiar scent of her hair. For weeks, she had feared she would never hold her again, never hear her call her “mummy” with such innocence. And now, here she was, warm and real in her arms.

When she finally looked up, Pastor Gloria was watching quietly, her eyes moist but her smile gentle.

“Ma…” Nse whispered, struggling to find words. “You—how—why are you here?”

Pastor Gloria rose and moved closer, her steps measured with grace. “Because, my dear Nse, no matter what has happened, no matter what people are saying, you are still my daughter. And no daughter of mine will ever be left without comfort.”

Nse shook her head, tears spilling freely. “But after everything… the shame… the scandal… I thought, you of all people…” Her voice broke.

Pastor Gloria reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Shhh. I am not here to judge you, Nse. I am here to remind you that grace still speaks. And that this little one,” she smiled at Itoro, who was still nestled in her arms, “needs her mother whole and standing again.”

The weight of those words sank deep into Nse’s chest. She wanted to argue, to protest that she was beyond saving, that she had already ruined too much. But holding her daughter, feeling the warmth of Pastor Gloria’s hand, she realized she had no strength left for resistance.

For the first time, Nse allowed herself to hope.

When the first wave of tears subsided, Nse sat with Itoro still clinging to her side, his little arms wrapped tightly around her waist as though he feared she might vanish again. She brushed a hand over her hair, unable to stop herself from kissing her forehead again and again.

Pastor Gloria quietly pulled a chair closer and sat beside them. For a long while, she simply watched—letting Nse soak in the presence of her child. Finally, when Nse’s sobs grew softer, Pastor Gloria spoke, her voice low and steady.
“My dear Nse,” she said, “I know your heart is heavy. I know you feel as though the ground has swallowed you up, and everyone you love has turned their back on you. But I came here today because I need you to understand something.”

Nse lifted her eyes, weary, her voice breaking. “What could possibly be left for me to understand, Ma? My shame is everywhere—splashed across the news, whispered in the church, on every tongue in this city. I have destroyed everything—Amaechi’s name, your family’s honour, the church… and even my daughter’s future. What more is there?”

Pastor Gloria reached for her hand, folding it gently between hers. “You are not destroyed, Nse. Do you hear me? You may be broken, you may be wounded, but you are not destroyed. The God I serve does not throw away the broken—He mends them.”

Nse shook her head, bitter tears spilling again. “But Ma, I lied. I deceived you all. I stood before the church with a smile while hiding my filth. If anyone should despise me, it should be you. I thought you would hate me.”

“Hate you?” Pastor Gloria’s voice trembled, her own eyes glistening. “Oh, my daughter, no. My heart has been heavy, yes. I wept when I heard. I mourned, yes. But I have loved you since you were in the choir. I saw something in you, Nse. Not the perfection you tried to show the world, but the deep hunger for love and belonging. That is why I cannot—will not—stop loving you.”

Nse covered her mouth with her free hand, choking on her sobs. “Ma… I don’t deserve it.”

“None of us do,” Pastor Gloria whispered. “That is what grace is. Do you think Amaechi’s father was without shame before God forgave him? Do you think my life has been without sin? No, Nse. We are all trophies of mercy. And that mercy is still available to you.”

Silence fell between them for a moment, broken only by Itoro’s soft humming as she played absentmindedly with her mother’s scarf.

Finally, Nse asked the question that had been burning in her chest. “But what about Amaechi? He hasn’t spoken to me… he’s shut me out. I’ve lost him, haven’t I?”

Pastor Gloria exhaled slowly, her face pained. “Amaechi is hurt, deeply hurt. And right now, he is wrestling with his faith, his love for you, and the voices pressing on him. But do not mistake silence for hatred. I know my son—his love for you has not died. It is buried under pain. Give him time, and give God room to do what only He can do.”

Nse bowed her head, her words tumbling out in a whisper. “I am so sorry, Mum. I am sorry for disgracing you, for shaming the church, for failing Amaechi, and for failing God. Sometimes, I wish I had never been born.”

At that, Pastor Gloria’s grip tightened around her hand. “Do not say that again, Nse. You are not a mistake. Your story may be messy, but it is not meaningless. God does not waste pain. If you let Him, He will use even this scandal to raise you up stronger, wiser, and more compassionate. Your life is not over, my dear—it is being rewritten.”

Fresh tears rolled down Nse’s cheeks, but this time they felt different. Softer. Cleansing.

Pastor Gloria leaned closer and whispered, “Pick yourself up, my daughter. For your daughter, for your marriage, for your God. This is not the end of you.”

Nse looked down at little Itoro, her innocent eyes gazing up at her as if to echo Pastor Gloria’s words. She kissed her forehead again, her heart swelling with both grief and a flicker of fragile hope.

“Mum…” Nse said, her voice trembling but firm. “Thank you for standing by me, even if the whole world doesn’t?”

Pastor Gloria pulled her into a warm embrace. “I may not publicly disclose it, but you can count on my support.”

And in that small, quiet hotel office, amidst all the chaos and shame of the past weeks, Nse felt—for the first time—that perhaps redemption was still possible.

Thanks for reading.
TBC.
Jumie Naths Stories.

Jumie Naths Stories

28/09/2025

27/09/2025

26/09/2025

25/09/2025

24/09/2025

Address

Telephone

Website

Alerts

Contact The Business

Shortcuts

Share

Category