Chapter 41: Sonia’s Secret: The Reason She Cries After Fellowship

The night Peter defended Angela, Sonia clapped with everyone else.

But her hands trembled.

And when she got home?

She didn't cry.

Not right away.

She simply stood in front of her mirror, removed her earrings, slowly undid the buttons on her long-sleeved blouse, and stared.

At the scars.

Thin lines.

Some old.

Some still healing.

Each one, a sentence.

A memory.

---

Her hands moved on instinct.

She touched the edge of her left wrist — the place where she had once pressed a razor so hard, she saw red flood her vision.

She had promised she'd stop.

But that night?

She wanted to start again.

Not because Peter didn't love her.

But because he never saw her.

---

She opened her journal.

The one with floral stickers on the cover, the one no one would dare guess contained this much sorrow.

> "Peter looked at her the way I once dreamed he'd look at me."

"I'm tired of being everyone's strong one."

"I pray. I fast. I worship. But I still want to disappear sometimes."

---

Sonia wasn't jealous.

She wasn't bitter.

She was just… tired.

Tired of loving in silence.

Tired of clapping for people while she was falling apart inside.

And most of all?

Tired of pretending that her faith alone was enough to stop the bleeding.

---

📍Flashback: One Year Ago

It was a rainy day after midweek fellowship.

Sonia had stayed behind to clean instruments when Peter walked in, dripping wet, laughing at something one of the brothers said.

She watched him.

She watched how kind he was.

How he greeted the ushers one by one.

How he prayed like he meant it.

She had just finished her three-day dry fast that night — believing God for clarity about her future… and maybe, just maybe, her feelings for Peter.

> She thought the "yes" would come.

But Peter never looked at her that way.

And that's when the voice started whispering again:

> "You're not pretty enough."

"Why would he ever pick you?"

"Even God has favorites — and you're not one."

---

So she carved the sadness away.

Once.

Twice.

Until her skin said what her mouth couldn't.

---

📍Present Day

That night, Sonia closed her journal and lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

She didn't hate Angela.

In fact, she prayed for her.

But she also prayed for herself — that God would help her believe she was still worthy of love, even if Peter never looked back.

---

The twist?

She didn't know Malik had seen her that day — months ago — in the back of the chapel, pulling down her sleeve quickly after a worship session.

And Malik?

Malik had been praying ever since for the right time to talk to her.

---

Because healing was waiting.

And Sonia's story wasn't over.

It was just beginning.