The Boy I Loved in Secret Became My Pastor—And I Was the Only One Who Knew His Secret: Episode 3

The Boy I Loved in Secret Became My Pastor—And I Was the Only One Who Knew His Secret: Episode 3

EPISODE 3 — “The Message in His Eyes”

The next Sunday, I came early.

Earlier than usual.

Not because I wanted to see him. In fact, I had tried to convince myself to skip church altogether. But something stronger than me dragged my feet there early before the service started.

Curiosity? Bitterness? Or maybe… unfinished business?

Whatever it was, I found myself back on my usual seat. Third row, right side.

He wasn’t on the altar when I came in. The choir was still rehearsing, and a few ushers were arranging envelopes.

I sat there pretending to scroll on my phone, but my mind was spinning.

Was he going to act like last Sunday never happened?

Was he truly that cold—or was he scared?

Half an hour later, I saw him.

He walked in from the side door leading to the pastor’s office. No noise. No escort. Just him.

And that same calmness.

He stopped briefly to greet the associate pastor, Pastor Tunde — a quiet, older man who had been serving in that branch for years now, assisting the resident pastor.

I watched them from a distance.

Tochukwu bowed slightly. He looked respectful. Grateful, even.

Then his eyes moved.

To me.

Our eyes locked — for the first time in seven years.

I don’t know what I expected… a gasp? A smile? A flicker of recognition?

But his expression didn’t change. He blinked once, then looked away and continued walking.

As if nothing.

As if we were never anything.

I bit my lip and faced front.

I didn’t cry. But I wanted to.

Not because I was still in love, but because of how easy it was for someone to erase you from their history.

The service started.

He preached on “New Beginnings: Letting Go of the Past.”

The irony almost made me laugh.

He spoke like a man who had seen battles and come out stronger. He used stories from Scripture — Moses, Paul, Rahab — all people who had rough pasts but found redemption.

People were nodding. Taking notes. Saying “Ride on, sir!”

But me?

I just stared.

Because every word he spoke felt like it had another meaning. Like he was preaching to me without saying my name.

And when his eyes scanned the crowd again, they paused briefly on me.

Just for a second.

Long enough for me to know something.

He remembered.

He had been pretending, but he remembered.

The look in his eyes… it wasn’t cold anymore. It was haunted.

Not guilty.

Not scared.

Just… burdened.

He ended the message with a prayer:

“Whatever has held you back… whatever secret has kept you in shame… God is bigger than your past. And His mercy is still fresh today.”

And I knew.

He wasn’t just preaching to the church.

He was talking to himself.

And maybe… to me.

But mercy or not, I still carried the memory of what he told me under that mango tree.

And now that he was here, standing boldly on the altar, commanding a congregation…

That secret?

It wasn’t just a memory anymore. It was a ticking time bomb.

To be continued…