A PASTOR'S BETRAYAL
PART 3
Grace stood in the kitchen, her hands shaking as she stared at the text on her phone. It was from Michael—short, cold, like always.
"Working late. Don’t wait up."
She had spent all afternoon preparing his favorite meal—peppered snail soup with fresh bread. The table was set, candles lit, the house smelling of spices and warmth. She had wanted to talk, to finally tell him how lonely she felt. How much she missed him.
But now, the food would go cold. Again.
Her fingers hovered over her phone. She wanted to type, "Please come home. We need to talk." But she knew what his response would be—silence. Or worse, annoyance.
She took a deep breath and called him instead.
The phone rang three times before Michael answered. In the background, she could hear laughter, glasses clinking. A restaurant.
"Grace, I said I’m working," he muttered, his voice tight with irritation.
Her heart pounded. "You’re not at the office."
A pause. Then a sigh. "I had a business dinner. I didn’t think I needed to explain every little thing to you."
Little thing. Those words cut deep. To her, it wasn’t little. It was another night alone. Another night where she felt invisible in her own marriage.
"Michael…" Her voice cracked. "I made dinner. I wanted us to talk. We—we can’t keep living like this."
Another pause. Then, "Grace, not now. I’ll be home late."
And just like that, he hung up.
Grace stood there, the phone still pressed to her ear, the dial tone buzzing like a taunt.
When Michael finally came home, hours later, Grace was waiting.
The candles had burned out. The food was untouched.
He walked in, loosening his tie, barely glancing at her as he headed for the stairs.
"Michael," she said, her voice trembling. "We need to talk."
He stopped, exhaling sharply. "Grace, it’s midnight. Can’t this wait?"
No. It couldn’t.
"Every time I try to talk to you, you push me away," she whispered, tears spilling over. "Do you even love me anymore?"
Michael turned, his face unreadable. "This again? Grace, I’m tired. I work all day, and I don’t need this drama when I come home."
Drama.
That word shattered something inside her.
"This isn’t drama!" she cried. "This is our marriage! You don’t talk to me, you don’t spend time with me—I feel like a ghost in my own house!"
Michael’s jaw tightened. "What do you want from me, Grace? I provide for you. You have everything!"
Everything except his love.
Grace wiped her tears, her breath coming in shaky gasps. "I want my husband back."
For a second, something flickered in Michael’s eyes—guilt? Regret? But then it was gone, replaced by cold indifference.
"I don’t have time for this," he said, turning away.
And just like that, he walked upstairs, leaving her standing there, broken.
Grace didn’t sleep that night.
By morning, her eyes were swollen, her heart raw. She needed someone to talk to. Someone who would listen.
So she went back to the only person who seemed to care—Pastor Gideon.
In his office, Grace cried as she told him what happened.
Pastor Gideon listened, nodding sympathetically. Then he leaned forward, his voice grave.
"Sister Grace… I fear for your life."
Grace froze. "What?"
He sighed, shaking his head. "A man who treats his wife this way… it’s not just neglect. It’s spiritual warfare. The devil is using him to destroy you."
Grace’s hands trembled. "But—but what do I do?"
Pastor Gideon placed a hand over hers. "God is telling me… if you stay, you will die in that house. Not just your heart—your life."
Grace gasped, her blood running cold.
"The Bible says, ‘Come out from among them and be separate.’ You must leave, Sister Grace. Before it’s too late."
Her mind spun. Leave Michael? After eighteen years?
But the pastor’s words sank deep, feeding her fears.
You will die if you stay.
That evening, Pastor Gideon "coincidentally" ran into Michael at a charity event.
"Brother Michael!" he greeted warmly, clapping him on the back. "How are you, my friend?"
Michael, unaware of the pastor’s conversations with Grace, smiled. "Doing well, Pastor. Keeping busy."
The pastor sighed sympathetically. "I actually wanted to speak with you. Your wife came to me recently… she’s been struggling."
Michael’s smile faded. "Grace?"
Pastor Gideon nodded. "She’s… very emotional. I’ve been counseling her to find peace in God’s word. Marriage is sacred, after all."
Michael relaxed, grateful. "I appreciate that, Pastor. She’s been… difficult lately."
The pastor smiled, hiding his deceit behind holy concern. "We’ll keep praying for you both."
Meanwhile, Grace sat at home, staring at her wedding ring, wondering if removing it would save her life—or destroy it.
TO BE CONTINUED...
A PASTOR'S BETRAYAL
PART 3
Grace stood in the kitchen, her hands shaking as she stared at the text on her phone. It was from Michael—short, cold, like always.
"Working late. Don’t wait up."
She had spent all afternoon preparing his favorite meal—peppered snail soup with fresh bread. The table was set, candles lit, the house smelling of spices and warmth. She had wanted to talk, to finally tell him how lonely she felt. How much she missed him.
But now, the food would go cold. Again.
Her fingers hovered over her phone. She wanted to type, "Please come home. We need to talk." But she knew what his response would be—silence. Or worse, annoyance.
She took a deep breath and called him instead.
The phone rang three times before Michael answered. In the background, she could hear laughter, glasses clinking. A restaurant.
"Grace, I said I’m working," he muttered, his voice tight with irritation.
Her heart pounded. "You’re not at the office."
A pause. Then a sigh. "I had a business dinner. I didn’t think I needed to explain every little thing to you."
Little thing. Those words cut deep. To her, it wasn’t little. It was another night alone. Another night where she felt invisible in her own marriage.
"Michael…" Her voice cracked. "I made dinner. I wanted us to talk. We—we can’t keep living like this."
Another pause. Then, "Grace, not now. I’ll be home late."
And just like that, he hung up.
Grace stood there, the phone still pressed to her ear, the dial tone buzzing like a taunt.
When Michael finally came home, hours later, Grace was waiting.
The candles had burned out. The food was untouched.
He walked in, loosening his tie, barely glancing at her as he headed for the stairs.
"Michael," she said, her voice trembling. "We need to talk."
He stopped, exhaling sharply. "Grace, it’s midnight. Can’t this wait?"
No. It couldn’t.
"Every time I try to talk to you, you push me away," she whispered, tears spilling over. "Do you even love me anymore?"
Michael turned, his face unreadable. "This again? Grace, I’m tired. I work all day, and I don’t need this drama when I come home."
Drama.
That word shattered something inside her.
"This isn’t drama!" she cried. "This is our marriage! You don’t talk to me, you don’t spend time with me—I feel like a ghost in my own house!"
Michael’s jaw tightened. "What do you want from me, Grace? I provide for you. You have everything!"
Everything except his love.
Grace wiped her tears, her breath coming in shaky gasps. "I want my husband back."
For a second, something flickered in Michael’s eyes—guilt? Regret? But then it was gone, replaced by cold indifference.
"I don’t have time for this," he said, turning away.
And just like that, he walked upstairs, leaving her standing there, broken.
Grace didn’t sleep that night.
By morning, her eyes were swollen, her heart raw. She needed someone to talk to. Someone who would listen.
So she went back to the only person who seemed to care—Pastor Gideon.
In his office, Grace cried as she told him what happened.
Pastor Gideon listened, nodding sympathetically. Then he leaned forward, his voice grave.
"Sister Grace… I fear for your life."
Grace froze. "What?"
He sighed, shaking his head. "A man who treats his wife this way… it’s not just neglect. It’s spiritual warfare. The devil is using him to destroy you."
Grace’s hands trembled. "But—but what do I do?"
Pastor Gideon placed a hand over hers. "God is telling me… if you stay, you will die in that house. Not just your heart—your life."
Grace gasped, her blood running cold.
"The Bible says, ‘Come out from among them and be separate.’ You must leave, Sister Grace. Before it’s too late."
Her mind spun. Leave Michael? After eighteen years?
But the pastor’s words sank deep, feeding her fears.
You will die if you stay.
That evening, Pastor Gideon "coincidentally" ran into Michael at a charity event.
"Brother Michael!" he greeted warmly, clapping him on the back. "How are you, my friend?"
Michael, unaware of the pastor’s conversations with Grace, smiled. "Doing well, Pastor. Keeping busy."
The pastor sighed sympathetically. "I actually wanted to speak with you. Your wife came to me recently… she’s been struggling."
Michael’s smile faded. "Grace?"
Pastor Gideon nodded. "She’s… very emotional. I’ve been counseling her to find peace in God’s word. Marriage is sacred, after all."
Michael relaxed, grateful. "I appreciate that, Pastor. She’s been… difficult lately."
The pastor smiled, hiding his deceit behind holy concern. "We’ll keep praying for you both."
Meanwhile, Grace sat at home, staring at her wedding ring, wondering if removing it would save her life—or destroy it.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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