CHAPTER TEN

Jeremiah Lewis stared at the email in disbelief, the words blurring together as a wave of relief washed over him.

The commission for a portrait—a lifeline he desperately needed—had come through at just the right moment.

He was drowning in debt, his art barely keeping him afloat.

But this? This was a Godsend.

The client, who had remained anonymous, had requested a portrait with an unusual level of detail and intimacy.

There was something almost familiar in the description, something that tugged at the edges of his memory.

Still, he pushed the thought aside, too grateful to question it.

As he packed his art supplies for the day and prepared to head to his small, cluttered studio, the nagging question refused to leave him.

Who could this anonymous benefactor be?

The way the request was worded, the careful consideration of his style—it was as if they knew him.

Really knew him.

The realization hit him suddenly, like a flash of light in the dark: his ex-wife.

The thought seemed absurd though but she was the only one who  had always appreciated his work, even if their marriage had crumbled under the weight of unspoken tensions and unmet expectations.

He shook his head, dismissing the thought as he locked up and stepped into the bright morning sun.

He couldn't afford to get lost in speculation.

Whoever the client was, they had given him a chance to breathe again, to claw his way out of the financial mess he found himself in.

That was enough.

But as he walked down the street toward his studio, the question lingered in the back of his mind.

Who was it?

He walked into his office, picking up his bible and notebook, ready to delve into his study.

As he began, a familiar voice whispered, "Brutal..."

It was a voice he knew well—the voice of his favorite person in the world, the Holy Spirit.

But why was the Holy Spirit speaking of brutality?

Curious and unsettled, he reached for the dictionary, wanting to be precise.

The definition stared back at him: 'Not considering other people's feelings.'

Confusion crept in as he squinted at the words.

How did this apply to him?

He had always prided himself on being kind and considerate to everyone.

Then the voice came again, gently instructing, "Choose peace over your own judgment."

And with that, the Holy Spirit fell silent.

In that moment, the Lord opened his understanding.

The Holy Spirit was pointing to his recent misunderstanding with Raymond.

                                ***

Swanta handed me the exact pack of sweets I had given to the Sunday school teacher who crashed my car last week.

"Miss Catarina, Mum noticed I had left this sweet in the fridge since Dad gave it to me, so she told me to share it with the class today."

Intrigued by the coincidence, I asked, "When did your dad give you this sweet?"

"Last week Monday evening," she replied.

I recalled giving that same pack of sweets to the Sunday school teacher on Monday morning.

My curiosity deepened, as this was one of the packages Juliet's brother had sent from from France—a brand not available in the country.

"Does your dad travel to France frequently?" I asked.

"No, only my uncle does," she said."What's your dad's name?"

"Jeremiah Lewis."

                                   ***

Juliet had barely settled into her office when she caught sight of him.

The familiar stride, the same determined look—Francis Haggins.

Her heart skipped a beat, but then she quickly hardened it, reminding herself of why she'd kept her distance despite his pleadings.

But now, here he was, walking through the corridors of the same company she had built her career in.

And what unsettled her even more was how he acted as though they were complete strangers.

Later that day, as they crossed paths in the hallway, she couldn't help herself. "Francis," she said, stepping into his path, "is this some kind of joke? Are you here because of me?"

He paused, fixing her with a cool, detached gaze. "Juliet, I'm here for work. Nothing more." His tone was dismissive, as if she were just another colleague he barely knew.

"You expect me to believe that? After all this time, you suddenly show up here? You knew I worked here, didn't you?"

He shrugged, the faintest trace of a smirk on his lips. "I don't owe you any explanations."

And with that, he walked past her, leaving Juliet standing in the hallway, her thoughts spinning.

That evening, Juliet arrived home still rattled by the encounter.

She found Catarina in the kitchen, preparing dinner, the comforting scent of home-cooked food wafting through the air."You won't believe who's working at my office now," Juliet blurted out as she dropped her bag on the counter.

Catarina looked up, a hint of concern in her eyes. "Who?"

"Francis," Juliet replied, her voice tinged with disbelief. "I found out this morning. He's working at my company, and he's pretending like he doesn't even know me."

Catarina set down the knife she was holding and turned to Juliet. "That must have been a shock. How did he act?"

"He acted like I was just another face in the crowd. Like we didn't have a history. When I confronted him, he just… brushed me off."

Catarina sighed, wiping her hands on a towel. "Maybe this is destiny crying out because your reason for rejecting him is not for any spiritual purpose"

Juliet leaned against the counter, her mind racing. "I just never expected to see him again. . It's like a part of my past has come back to haunt me."

Catarina nodded, her voice gentle."Sometimes, the past has a way of catching up with us, whether we're ready for it or not."

                                  ***

I glanced around the church, leaning over to whisper to Juliet, "He's not here. How could this be just a coincidence?"

It was Sunday service, and another teacher had replaced Jeremiah Lewis for Sunday school.

Juliet squinted thoughtfully, then beckoned to one of the ushers. "Excuse me, where's Brother Jeremiah Lewis?"

"He's been transferred to Zone 3 Parish of Christ Love Ministry," the usher replied.

Juliet and I exchanged quick glances.

"Should we check it out?" she suggested.

As if on autopilot, I followed her out of the church, and she drove us to the new location, guided by another usher outside the church gate.

We finally arrived at a much larger church—same name, different location.

The moment we walked in, there he was, teaching another Sunday school class.

Jeremiah looked shocked to see us but managed a smile and a wave before continuing his lesson on the topic of Perilous Times, focusing on how people had become lovers of the world rather than lovers of God.

As I settled in for the next part of the service, I nearly fell off my chair when I saw who mounted the pulpit to lead the choir—it was Raymond Smith, the CEO of Bower Bound!

My former boss!

Wearing a choir robe, he stood at the front and led the choir in their ministration.

Juliet and I exchanged astonished glances. "The CEO!" we mouthed in unison.

We could barely contain our shock throughout the rest of the service.

Raymond Smith, a choir master? After the service ended, I asked Juliet to wait in the car while I found the right moment to approach Jeremiah.

I needed to know if he was truly Swanta's father.

Finally, we crossed paths, and I pulled him aside to the car park.

He sighed, "Sister Catarina, is everything okay? How have you been?"

"Do you have a daughter?" I searched his eyes for the truth.

"Er… yes, I do."

"Is her name Swanta?"

His eyes widened. "How on earth did you know…"

"Do you live together?"

"No, her mother and I are divorced. How do you know her?"

"I'm her teacher, and Raymond Smith was my former boss."

"Wow. What a coincidence. She's in the teenage department right now. Have you seen her?"

"Really?" I followed him to the teenage department, where I saw Raymond with Swanta, laughing and gently touching her hair.

It was such a tender sight.

But when I looked around, Jeremiah had disappeared.

Where had he gone?

As I debated whether to walk in or go search for Jeremiah, I realized they had noticed me.

Swanta ran over excitedly and hugged me. "You're in our church! Are you worshiping with us now?"

"Yes, dear," I replied, and we touched cheeks in a playful gesture.

Raymond looked surprised. "Can we talk outside, Catarina?"

Without waiting for a response, he pulled me to the back of the building. "How come you're here?"

"I came because of Jeremiah Lewis."

"Swanta's father?"

I searched his eyes. "Are you two on good terms?"

He frowned. "That's our personal business."

"I'm not trying to intrude, but he said he divorced your sister, and you've taken full custody of Swanta."

His eyes narrowed, and I saw a side of him I hadn't before. "I never 'coveted' his daughter."

"When we came to see Swanta together, he vanished the moment he saw you. He's afraid of you."

"If he wants to be a father, that's up to him."

"Are you giving him a chance, or are you siding with your sister? He might not be the only one at fault. Have you even tried to hear his side of the story?"

Raymond's expression hardened. "I get that you came here to see the love of your life, but stop talking about things you know nothing about." He turned to leave.

"Do you know why I became a teacher? It wasn't just because I was traumatized. I wanted to understand people, to see through their words and actions. I'm not saying I'm always right, but I can see things."

He rolled his eyes. "You should've used your so-called psychic ability to pick a better husband, Mrs. Psychic," he sneered before walking away.

His words stung, and I knew he was right.

But why was he turning this around on me when we were supposed to be talking about him?