The Boy I Loved in Secret Became My Pastor—And I Was the Only One Who Knew His Secret: Episode 2

The Boy I Loved in Secret Became My Pastor—And I Was the Only One Who Knew His Secret: Episode 2

EPISODE 2 — “When Ghosts Return in Flesh”

The Sunday he walked in, the air changed.

I’m not exaggerating.

People were excited—some were on their feet clapping, others murmured things like, “So young and vibrant,” or “Thank God, fresh fire is coming.”

But I was frozen in place. Third row, right side. Same seat I always sit in.
My hands were cold. My throat dry. My heart? Scattered.

It had been seven years, but Tochukwu looked like a man who knew where he was going now.

Black suit. Neatly trimmed beard. Calm, collected walk.
He climbed the altar with the confidence of someone who had stood on many like it. No fear. No stammering. Just ease.

“Praise the Lord, church,” he said, and the whole place echoed with a response.

I stared at him, trying to find the boy I once knew behind the man that now stood before me.
He didn’t flinch when his eyes scanned my row. If he saw me, he didn’t show it.
I almost wished he stumbled a little. Or looked shocked. Or at least blinked twice.
But nothing.

Like I didn’t exist.

After the service, they had a small welcome reception in the church hall. I avoided it.
I couldn’t sit in that room with everyone laughing and clapping, pretending nothing happened.

That night, I couldn’t sleep.

I kept remembering his voice from years ago. The way he used to say, “When I’m done with NYSC, we’ll make everything official.”
I waited. He never came back.

And now, this same Tochukwu — my Brother Toch — is my new resident pastor?

In Cornerstone?

I had so many questions.

Where had he been all these years?

How did he end up in ministry?

Why this branch? Why now?

But one question sat louder in my heart than the rest:

Does he still remember what he told me?

Because I remember.

I remember that night.
After the vigil.
When we stood under the mango tree behind the old fellowship centre.
When he looked at me and said something so heavy, so deep, I had to sit on the pavement.

“There’s something I’ve battled since I was a teenager,” he said.
“I’ve never told anyone else, but I trust you.”
“If this ever gets out… I don’t even know what I’d become.”

I never forgot.
Even though I tried to bury it. Even though I moved on, joined another church, tried to serve God with a clean heart…

I never forgot what he told me.

And now… he’s my pastor?

God, why?

The worst part?

He still hasn’t acknowledged me.

No “hello.”

No “long time.”

Nothing.

Like I was just one of the crowd.

But I know what I know.

I know his secret.

And something tells me, whether I like it or not… this story isn’t over.

To be continued…