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A PASTOR'S BETRAYAL
PART 4
The house was too quiet.
Grace sat at the edge of the bed, her fingers tracing the rim of her morning coffee cup, the steam long gone. Michael had left early again—another "business meeting." But this time, something felt different. Her stomach twisted in knots, and no matter how hard she tried to shake it off, the feeling clung to her like a shadow.
She picked up her phone, scrolling mindlessly until a message notification popped up.
It was from an unknown number.
Her breath hitched as she opened it.
"Your husband and his secretary look so cozy together at the Silver Spoon Café. Thought you should know."
Attached was a photo—Michael sitting across from his young, beautiful secretary, their heads close together as they smiled over documents.
Grace’s hands trembled.
She didn’t remember driving to Michael’s office.
All she knew was the burning in her chest, the way her pulse roared in her ears. She burst through the doors, ignoring the startled receptionist, and marched straight to his office.
And there they were—Michael and her—standing close, the secretary laughing at something he said.
Grace saw red.
"Grace? What are you—" Michael started, his eyes widening as she stormed in.
"Who is she?!" Grace screamed, pointing at the secretary.
The young woman stepped back, her face paling. "Mrs. Thompson, I—"
"Grace, calm down!" Michael moved between them, his hands raised. "This isn’t what you think!"
"Then what is it?!" Her voice cracked, raw with betrayal. "Another business meeting? Another late night? How long has this been going on?!"
Michael’s jaw tightened. "Nothing is going on! We were just going over contracts!"
Grace let out a bitter laugh. "Contracts? Is that what you call it now?"
She lunged forward, shoving him hard. Michael stumbled back, shock flashing across his face.
"Grace, stop!"
But she couldn’t. The rage, the hurt, the months of loneliness—it all erupted. She grabbed the nearest thing—a glass paperweight—and hurled it at the wall. It shattered, the sound like a gunshot in the tense silence.
The secretary screamed, scrambling out of the room.
Michael grabbed Grace’s wrists, his grip firm. "Grace, enough! You’re acting crazy!"
"*Crazy?!" She wrenched free, tears streaming down her face. "You’ve been lying to me! You’ve been cheating on me!"
"I haven’t!" Michael’s voice broke. "Grace, please—just listen to me!"
But she didn’t want to listen.
She couldn’t.
The ride home was a blur.
Michael followed her, pleading the entire way, but Grace barely heard him. All she could hear was Pastor Gideon’s voice in her head:
"If you stay, you will die."
When they got home, the children were there—their three beautiful babies, their faces filled with confusion and fear as they watched their parents scream at each other.
"Daddy? Mommy?" little Sarah whispered, her eyes wide with tears.
Grace’s heart shattered.
But she couldn’t stop.
She packed her bags that night.
Michael begged on his knees, his voice broken. "Grace, please… Don’t do this. I love you. We love you."
The children cried, clinging to her legs. "Mommy, don’t go!"
Grace closed her eyes, her hands shaking as she zipped up her suitcase.
Pastor Gideon’s words echoed louder.
"God wants you free."
She turned away, walking out the door without looking back.
When she arrived at the church, Pastor Gideon welcomed her with open arms.
"Sister Grace," he said, his voice dripping with false warmth. "You’ve done the right thing. God is pleased."
He patted her back, his smile wide. "This is your new beginning."
Grace nodded, but deep down, beneath the numbness, a voice whispered:
What have I done?
That night, alone in the small apartment the pastor had arranged for her, Grace sat on the edge of an unfamiliar bed, staring at her phone.
There were 17 missed calls from Michael.
32 messages from the kids.
And one voicemail—Sarah’s tiny, broken voice:
"Mommy… please come home."
Grace pressed a hand to her mouth, choking back a sob.
For the first time, she wondered—had she made the biggest mistake of her life?
TO BE CONTINUED...

Hey guys lunch is served
Come with your spoon

This is for bread lovers.
Here are some breakfast ideas you can have with bread.

It's easy for someone to joke about scars if they've never been cut." (William Shakespeare)
Not everyone will understand the weight you carry—and that’s okay. Some will laugh at what they’ve never lived through, dismiss what they cannot see, or speak carelessly about wounds they’ve never had to tend.
It’s easy to minimize someone else's pain when you’ve never sat awake with your own. True empathy doesn’t come from observation; it rises from experience—those quiet, raw places where life has broken us open and taught us how fragile the human heart can be. Only then do we learn to approach others not with judgment, but with gentleness. To see someone's scars and not flinch. To offer kindness, not critique.
Because once you’ve been there, you don’t forget how much it meant when someone offered you understanding instead of advice.

*It takes just one person to destroy a group.*
*Do not be that person.*
*Be a builder.*

*𝗡𝗼𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗱s 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗲𝗲𝘁 o𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗷𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲. 𝗪𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝘆 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗯𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱, 𝘄𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝘆 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗚𝗼𝗱 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗽𝘂𝘁 𝘂𝘀 𝘁𝗼𝗴𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗼 𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝘀 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗯𝗶𝗴 𝗳𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹𝘆.*
*𝗥𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝘀𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗴𝗶𝗳𝘁 𝗼𝗳 N𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲.*
*𝗡𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝘂𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗹𝘆...*✍

There is grief in accepting someone won’t change!" (Nedra Tawwab)
In the quiet depths of the heart, there lies a profound sorrow in the realization that someone may never change. It is a poignant acknowledgment, a tender letting go of hopes for transformation or growth in another.
This grief is not loud or dramatic but a subtle ache, a gentle mourning for the possibilities that may never come to fruition.
Accepting this truth requires a deep well of strength and resilience, a willingness to release expectations and embrace the reality before you. It is a bittersweet journey of acceptance but within it lies the opportunity to learn the art of detachment.
Detachment does not mean indifference or lack of love; rather, it is the gentle practice of releasing the need to control or fix others, allowing us to embrace reality as it is.
By cultivating detachment, we free ourselves from the weight of expectations and the pain of disappointment, creating space for acceptance and peace. It teaches us to love without attachment to outcomes, to honor our own well-being while holding compassion for others.
In learning this art, we transform grief into wisdom, finding strength in surrender and serenity in embracing life’s impermanence

And I will give you the treasures of darkness, and hidden riches of secret places.

Wisdom for Winning:
The flowers of tomorrow are in the seeds of today.
Start taking the little steps today. Those little steps are what add up to big things tomorrow. Pls start now from where you are now. Your results are guaranteed. Peace!!!