25/06/2025
🌹 The Quiet Way You Came
A romantic novella by Dammie’s Pen
Prologue
Elijah – Age 46
I had buried desire the day I laid her in the ground.
I buried my wife. My laughter. My need.
Until you came.
You came like incense—slow, sacred, stealing the room.
And God help me…
I didn’t know I could burn again.
Chapter One – Her Name Was Adesewa
Elijah – Lagos, Nigeria
The first time I saw her, she wasn’t trying to be seen.
She sat at the back of the conference room, typing quietly, her head bowed over her laptop. Interns rarely made it to that level of strategy meetings, but she had been recommended by the Head of Media—brilliant, they said. Efficient. Calm.
I didn’t notice her until she looked up.
And God, when she did…
Those eyes.
Dark and wide, not from fear, but curiosity. She didn’t flinch under my stare. That was rare.
“What’s your name?” I asked her mid-presentation.
She blinked, caught off guard. “Adesewa,” she said.
Her voice? Gentle. Clean. Like a silk robe slipping down bare shoulders.
“Beautiful name,” I replied.
“Don’t let anyone silence it in a room full of power.”
She blushed. Just slightly.
And that was when I knew I was in trouble.
Chapter Two – Honey and Fire
Adesewa – Age 23
He looked at me like he knew me.
Like he could see past my ironed blouse and minimal makeup. Like he could see the girl who still cried on her birthday and hadn’t dated in two years because she feared being used.
Pastor Elijah Michaels.
The man. The voice. The mystery.
Everyone said he was untouchable. But he wasn’t cold—no, that was the problem. He was warm. Deep. And he had that calm only grief gives a person.
“I see your heart in the way you write,” he told me after reading a draft for his book blurb.
“You write like someone who’s bled before.”
I didn’t know whether to thank him or cry.
“You read hearts often?” I asked.
He smiled, slow and small.
“Only when they’re trying to hide.”
I should’ve run.
I should’ve told myself this was a line. A test.
But instead, I stayed. And my heart did the dangerous thing—it opened.
Chapter Three – The Drive Home
Elijah
It rained that night.
The kind of rain that makes the city slow down, makes time feel suspended.
She had no umbrella. I offered a ride, a small thing—just one man of God helping a young intern. But her presence in my car felt anything but small.
“Do you miss her?” she asked softly, eyes on the window.
Silence.
“Every day,” I said, the truth sitting like stone in my throat.
“But some days, it feels like I’m cheating death by still living.”
She didn’t offer pity. She didn’t rush to fix the silence.
“Sometimes the living need permission to love again,” she whispered.
I stopped the car.
Turned to her.
Her face was turned toward mine now, lips parted slightly.
“Adesewa…”
“Yes?”
“You’re dangerous,” I said, voice thick.
“You make me remember I’m still a man before I’m a pastor.”
Her breath hitched.
But she didn’t pull away.
“And you make me forget I’m just a girl.”
I leaned closer. But didn’t kiss her. Just let my fingers graze hers. Just a brush.
It was more intimate than anything I’d felt in years.
Chapter Four – The Garden Retreat
Adesewa
He invited me to the prayer retreat to assist with his manuscript revisions.
The team wasn’t around. Just us.
It should have been sacred. And it was. But sacred doesn’t always mean safe.
He prayed long hours in the early morning. I heard his voice echo softly down the hallway. Not booming like in the pulpit—but broken. Honest.
I loved him for that.
That evening, the air in the garden smelled of jasmine and pine. We sat on the balcony after dinner, a lamp flickering between us. His manuscript lay forgotten.
“Do you know what scares me?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“You. This. The way you make me feel like I'm still alive in places I thought were buried.”
I swallowed. My chest ached.
“And what if I feel the same?” I whispered. “But I’m afraid I’m just a distraction. Or worse… a temptation.”
He reached out, fingers brushing my wrist.
“You're not a temptation. You're a reminder… that I haven’t fully died.”
The silence trembled around us.
And then he kissed me.
Not hungry. Not fast.
Slow. Soft. Soulful.
A kiss that asked permission and gave me time to change my mind.
I didn’t.
Chapter Five – What Would They Say?
Elijah
The next morning, I woke before the sun. The sky was the color of forgiveness.
She slept in the guest room, but her kiss still lingered on my lips like communion wine.
I knew what they would say.
“A man of God shouldn’t want someone her age.”
“What will this do to your image?”
“She’s barely grown, you’re nearly fifty.”
But the truth?
I didn’t want her because I was weak.
I wanted her because with her… I felt whole.
Not worshipped. Not followed.
Seen.
I found her by the garden fountain, eyes closed in prayer.
She opened them when I approached.
“Did we sin?” she asked, voice tight.
I shook my head.
“We felt.”
“Flesh doesn’t always mean failure.”
She exhaled. “But I don’t want to be a secret.”
“Then give me time,” I said, stepping close.
“Give me time to break this the right way… to tell the world I choose you.”
She nodded slowly. But I saw it—pain flickering in her eyes. Waiting is its own kind of heartbreak.
Chapter Six – His Office, My Undoing
Adesewa
Back in Lagos, things were different. He kept his distance. Respectful. Careful.
But I felt it in the way his eyes lingered when I walked in. In how his hands trembled slightly when I handed him a document.
One afternoon, the door to his office closed behind me with a soft click.
He stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back. I waited.
“This isn’t going away,” I said. “Whatever we pretend, it’s still between us.”
He turned.
“I know.”
Silence.
“I miss your voice in the quiet,” I said, my words cracking.
“I miss your hand on mine. I miss the way you used to look at me like I was more than a problem to solve.”
He crossed the room in seconds.
“You’re not a problem. You’re the answer to a prayer I didn’t know I was allowed to make.”
His fingers found my face. His thumb traced my lower lip.
“Do you want me, Elijah?” I asked. “As a man? Not a preacher. Not a mentor.”
His breath hitched.
“God help me… I do.”
His mouth found mine.
And this time, there was no hesitation. His hands mapped my back. My body responded like it had been waiting. Longing. Starving.
We didn’t cross the line that day.
But we danced on the edge of it.
And for the first time in my life, I understood what it meant to ache beautifully.
Chapter Seven – When a Man Loves Out Loud
Elijah
The morning I decided to tell the world, I didn’t sleep.
I rehearsed what I would say. I thought of the board. The elders. The women who’d been silently measuring Adesewa with narrowed eyes and forced smiles.
But I was done hiding.
She had become light to my soul. And I refused to dim it to please tradition.
Sunday came. The church was full. Cameras rolling. A sea of eyes—waiting for a sermon.
What they got was my truth.
“Before I speak today,” I began, stepping down from the altar, “I need to confess something.”
A hush spread across the sanctuary like spilled oil.
“God gave me grief. And then… God gave me grace.”
“And her name is Adesewa.”
Gasps. A few murmurs. One loud "Jesu!"
“She didn’t seduce me. She didn’t chase me. She came quietly. She reminded me that I’m still a man with a beating heart.”
I looked at her. She stood at the back—hands trembling, eyes wide.
“I love her,” I said, voice firm. “And no matter what anyone says, I will not apologize for choosing joy again.”
I didn’t wait for applause. I didn’t need permission.
But what came after… nearly broke us both.
Chapter Eight – The Firestorm
Adesewa
They came for me with tongues sharper than prophecy.
“You bewitched him.”
“She planned this. Jezebel!”
“Doesn’t she have shame?”
I became the scandal.
I stopped going to church. Stopped replying to messages. I deleted social media.
But I couldn’t delete the ache.
Elijah called. Texted. Sent flowers. I ignored it all.
Until one night, I heard his voice on the radio during a midnight sermon.
“Love isn’t always found in the ‘right’ package. But when God brings peace to your storm, don’t let people convince you it’s thunder.”
I cried myself to sleep that night. Not because he said it. But because I missed him saying it to me.
Chapter Nine – The Past Knocks Twice
Elijah
She wouldn’t return my calls. And honestly, I didn’t blame her.
But just when I thought silence would be our ending, Temi showed up at my door.
Temi—my late wife’s younger sister. The one person who knew me before the titles, the suits, the global conferences.
“I heard about Adesewa,” she said.
I braced myself.
“And?”
She shrugged.
“She reminds me of Grace… when Grace first met you.”
I stared.
“You think I’m crazy.”
She smiled. “I think you’re in love. And I think you’re afraid.”
I exhaled. “I’m not afraid of loving her. I’m afraid I’ll ruin her.”
She leaned in, her voice suddenly stern.
“Then don’t. If she’s the quiet that steadies your storm, don’t turn your back just because the sea roared once.”
That night, I stood outside Adesewa’s apartment in the rain. No driver. No bodyguard. Just me and the storm.
She opened the door. Eyes puffy. Voice hoarse.
“Why are you here?” she whispered.
“Because silence doesn’t suit us, Sewa. And neither does fear.”
“You said you’d protect me… but you let them tear me apart.”
I stepped inside. Wet. Broken. Willing.
“Then let me rebuild. Let me hold your fears, kiss your scars, and be the man who doesn’t just love you in secret, but worships you in the open.”
She stared at me. And for the first time in weeks… she smiled.
“One condition,” she said.
“You’re cooking tonight.”
And that’s how love began again—with jollof rice, soft laughter, and the man who stopped preaching long enough to listen.
Chapter Ten – Where the Fire Meets the Altar
Adesewa
That night, I didn’t need worship music to feel holy.
His touch was slow. Reverent. Like I was something sacred to be unwrapped, not undone.
The lights were low. The room was warm. I wore one of his white shirts and nothing else.
“Are you sure?” he asked, kneeling in front of me.
“Because once I cross this line, I’m not going back.”
I touched his face.
“I’ve been waiting on the other side of that line.”
He kissed my thighs first. Not out of hunger, but honor.
And when his hands slid under the shirt, I gasped—not because it was rushed, but because it felt like worship.
“I want to memorize you,” he whispered.
“I want your scent in my prayers, your name between my ribs.”
He moved slowly inside me, like he was afraid to break something fragile. I held his face, whispering his name like a psalm.
We didn’t just make love.
We made peace.
Two hearts stitched together in silence, in rhythm, in surrender.
Chapter Eleven – The Question
Elijah
I had never been afraid to speak in front of millions.
But holding a velvet box in my hand, I’d never felt more undone.
We were in Ghana—Cape Coast. A short getaway after the media storm died down. It was sunset by the ocean, her hair tied up, laughter soft, toes in the sand.
“Walk with me,” I said, pulling her away from the others.
She smiled, lacing her fingers in mine.
I paused near the water, where the waves kissed the edge of her feet.
“Sewa,” I said, voice low. “You didn’t just come quietly. You stayed. You saw every scar I tried to preach over.”
She turned to face me, eyes already welling.
“I don’t have forever to promise you, but I have every day I’m given. I want to be your covering, your friend, your fire. I want to build altars with you in the morning and kiss your belly at night.”
I knelt. Opened the box.
“Marry me.”
She gasped, a hand over her mouth.
“Are you serious?” she whispered, breathless.
“I’ve never been more sure.”
She dropped to her knees and kissed me before saying the word.
“Yes.”
Right there on the sand, we wept. Two people who had both known death, now finally choosing life.
Chapter Twelve – The Quiet Twist
Adesewa
I threw up the morning of our engagement shoot.
I thought it was nerves. Until it happened again the next day. And the next.
I didn’t want to panic. But I knew.
I waited until he got home from his board meeting, and handed him the test in a tiny black box—like the one he used to propose.
“Two lines?” he whispered, stunned. “Does that mean—”
I nodded, tears spilling.
“We’re pregnant.”
He laughed, deep and unrestrained, like a boy. He dropped the briefcase and swept me into his arms.
“A child,” he whispered against my neck. “We’re going to have a child.”
And somehow, that was the holiest moment of all.
Epilogue – The Quiet Way You Came
Elijah
We married in a small garden ceremony—only 50 guests, no cameras, no press. Just her hand in mine, a silk dress blowing in the wind, and God’s soft whisper between us.
She was barefoot. Radiant. Carrying our future inside her.
“I don’t care what anyone says,” I told her during our vows.
“You were the best kind of scandal… because you taught me how to love again.”
Now, every morning, I wake to her breathing beside me.
Not as my intern.
Not as a risk.
But as my quiet storm. My stillness. My home.
Because love didn’t come shouting.
It came quietly…
And stayed.
🌸 The Quiet Moments
Bonus Scene Collection
1. Wedding Night – “Come Closer, My Love”
POV: Adesewa
The door closed behind us with a gentle click.
No crowd. No cameras. Just candlelight, jasmine oil in the air, and him—standing there in his white shirt and rolled sleeves, looking like peace itself.
I stood still, nervous.
His eyes didn’t move.
“I’ve undressed you with prayer, Adesewa,” he said softly.
“Tonight, I’ll do it with my hands.”
He came to me slowly, unfastening each jewel from my neck like they were locks to my body. His fingers were careful—like worship, not possession.
“You’re safe,” he whispered, kissing my collarbone.
“And I will never rush your yes.”
“You already have it,” I breathed. “Every part of me.”
And that night, our bodies did not rush. They explored. We wept between kisses. I memorized the way his back trembled when I ran my hands over his scars.
We didn’t just make love.
We sealed a covenant… skin to skin, heart to heaven.
2. The Baby Is Born – “My Heart in Your Arms”
POV: Elijah
I had preached across nations. Watched demons flee. Watched thousands fall to their knees.
But nothing, nothing, compared to watching her bring our daughter into the world.
She screamed once, then cried quietly. I held her hand the whole time. She looked at me, sweating and tired.
“She’s yours,” she whispered. “Ours.”
When they placed the baby in my arms, I couldn’t speak.
A tiny miracle wrapped in my DNA and her gentleness.
“Her name?” the nurse asked.
I turned to Adesewa.
She smiled, weak but radiant.
“Eliana—‘God has answered.’”
I held my girls in one arm.
And cried like a man who had finally received everything he didn’t know he was allowed to ask for.
3. Five Years Later – “The Sound of Stillness”
POV: Adesewa
Our daughter’s laugh echoed through the garden.
Elijah was on the porch, barefoot, sipping tea, reading Proverbs. I wore one of his robes and no makeup. My hair was wrapped. My heart was not.
“Did I tell you I love you today?” he asked, looking up.
“Only three times,” I smirked.
He stood, walked to me, and wrapped his arms around my waist. We swayed gently to the music of birds and breeze.
“I’d still choose you,” he whispered. “Even now.”
“Even after the grey hairs?”
“Especially because of them.”
That day, we kissed like it was still our first.
And laughed like we had nothing to prove.
Because we didn’t.
4. Adesewa’s Letter to Elijah – “You Loved Me Anyway”
My Elijah,
You came into my life wrapped in grief, crowned in responsibility. I didn’t expect you to see me.
But you did.
You saw the woman I was becoming, not just the girl standing in front of you.
You kissed my fear away, held my confusion, and made me believe that love could be quiet… and still shake the heavens.
You never asked me to become less.
You never made me shrink.
You just made room for me.
And I have spent every day since falling deeper into that space you made…
Where I am safe.
And deeply, utterly, loved.
Forever yours,
Adesewa
5. The Secret They Kept – “The Night Before It All Changed”
POV: Elijah
There’s something we never told the world.
The first time I told her I loved her…
Wasn’t at the altar.
Wasn’t even in the car that rainy night.
It was in the chapel. The old one at the back of the ministry headquarters.
She had come to pray late one evening. I watched from the shadows—because I needed to see her love God when no one was watching.
She sang softly.
“You are my hiding place…”
And then, she turned and saw me.
We didn’t speak for a moment.
“You scare me,” she whispered. “Because I feel safe with you.”
I walked to her. Held her face.
“I love you,” I said, for the first time. “And I’ll carry that fear with you.”
We kissed right there. In the chapel. Under stained glass.
And told no one.
Some love stories begin in storms.
Ours began in silence.
And that secret?
That was the first altar we ever built.
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