Ruth's POV
I stood there for a moment, watching his retreating back. My heart felt heavy not because he walked away, but because of the pain in his eyes. That wasn't the David who mocked and scoffed during meetings. That was a boy carrying a weight too heavy for his shoulders.
I sighed and began walking. The evening breeze brushed against my face as I whispered, "Lord, help him. Show him you're still with him, even in his anger."
When I got home, my mum noticed the quiet look on my face.
"Ruth, you okay?" she asked from the kitchen.
"I'm fine, Mummy," I said with a small smile. "Just thinking."
She raised an eyebrow but didn't press further.
Later that night, I knelt by my bed, rested my head on the mattress, and prayed.
"Father, thank you for your love. I lift David up to you. I know he's hurting, but I believe you can reach even the hardest hearts. Help me not to give up on him, even when he pushes everyone away."
I paused, then quoted softly:
"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud... It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."
— 1 Corinthians 13:4, 7
When I opened my eyes, I felt a strange peace.
The next morning at tutorials, I looked around but didn't see David. Somehow, I wasn't surprised. I took my seat and focused. I couldn't afford distractions I still had my goals.
Monday dragged slowly, like a snail moving through thick sand. My body was in class, but my mind wandered back to David's words, his pain, and the weight behind them. I kept replaying his voice in my head: "Why should I work for Him? He didn't work for me…"
The words hurt not because they were aimed at God, but because I knew they were coming from a place of deep heartbreak.
By evening, I had to practically force myself to focus on my JAMB notes. Biology, English, Christian Religious Studies. I tried. I really tried. But my heart wasn't in it.
Tuesday morning came with the scent of rain in the air. I tied my scarf, took a market list from Mummy, and set out to buy foodstuff. The sun hadn't fully come out yet, and the clouds were thick like they were holding back tears.
I had just turned into a street near the junction when I saw them.
David.
He was in the middle of a scuffle—two boys holding him by the collar, another shoving him hard.
"Wetin you dey yarn that time, abi you don forget who dey protect you for this area?" one of them barked.
David tried to pull away, but one grabbed him again. He looked…angry, but scared too.
I froze for a second, instinctively hiding behind the provision seller's umbrella. I didn't want them to see me. I didn't want to intervene.
What has this boy gotten into again?
My heart raced. But I knew this wasn't the moment to step in. These weren't just regular boys—they looked dangerous. With colored hair, sagging jeans, and sharp eyes that darted around like wild dogs.
I swallowed hard and quietly turned back the way I came.
As I walked home, I whispered, "God, please... I hope he's okay. I hope..."
Even though I had no right to worry this much, I did.
Why?
I didn't know.
Maybe because despite all his arrogance, his mocking, and his rebellion, I still believed David's story wasn't finished.
I went home that Tuesday and tried to get my mind off it. But even with Christian music playing and the TV on a gospel channel, David's face angry, hurt, and surrounded by those boys kept flashing through my mind.
I prayed that night. Just a soft whisper before bed.
"God… please keep him safe. Even if he doesn't believe in You yet."
Thursday afternoon came with the usual heat. I was passing by David's street on my way to buy maggi and pepper when I saw him outside, leaning on a low fence, talking to someone. His voice was lower than usual, like he was trying not to be heard.
I would've just walked past, but then he spotted me.
"Well, isn't it the church girl," he said, one eyebrow raised in that familiar mocking way.
I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Brother David, my name is Ruth," I said, refusing to let his sarcasm get to me.
That's when I noticed it. A faint swelling on his jaw. A cut near his eyebrow. His face didn't look like it did on Sunday.
"What happened?" I asked, stepping a little closer. "Your face…"
He quickly looked away. "Nothing," he muttered, brushing it off like it was mosquito bites. But the way his hand touched the bruise told me it hurt more than he let on.
"David…"
"Abi," he cut me off with a smirk, "you wan kiss away the pain?"
My jaw dropped a little.
"Seriously?" I said with a hiss, annoyed and disappointed. "Bye bye joor."
I turned and walked off, shaking my head.
Under my breath, I muttered, "This boy needs Jesus and sense."
Still, my heart felt heavy. I could ignore his teasing, but not the pain behind his eyes.
Friday came, and to my joy, it was a public holiday.
No tutorials, no meetings just rest. Everyone was at home. The morning sun came in gently through the windows, and for once, there was no rush.
I stayed in my wrapper for a while, brushing my hair in front of the mirror when I heard my mum's laughter from the kitchen.
Daddy was teasing her about how she always puts too much pepper in stew.
"Ruth, come and taste this thing your mummy cooked o!"
I rushed out, laughing.
"Is it pepper soup or stew again, mummy?"
We all laughed and played. Then my dad clapped his hands and said,
"Oya o, my family, let's go out small ice cream dey call us."
"Meeeehn, I'm in!" my younger brother shouted.
We all got into the car and drove to a nearby spot. It wasn't anything fancy, but it was filled with music, laughter, and kids running around. We ordered vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry flavors my mum's favorite was coconut.
As I sat beside my dad, licking my ice cream cone, I felt... peace. Simple, full, joyful peace.
"Papa," I said, smiling. "Thank you. I needed this."
He patted my head gently. "You're my star girl, You deserve joy."
"Daddy, stop," I said shyly. "Don't call me that."
We all laughed.
I thought about David for a brief moment—where he might be, what he was doing. But I shook it off. Today was for joy. For warmth. For family.
"Let's take a picture!" Mum said.
We huddled close, laughing as the camera clicked.
I looked at the photo afterward and whispered in my heart,
Thank you, Jesus… for this peace. For love.