North East's choir rehearsal began like every other Saturday.
As usual, Fred Thompson and Gregory Fisher were not present.
But this time, something felt different.
Pastor Burke entered the hall with several of his subordinate pastors.
A quiet wave of surprise ran through the choir.
Martha looked from one face to another, wondering why the entire pastoral team had decided to attend an ordinary rehearsal.
Something important was clearly about to be announced.
Up front, Alex Warren, the choirmaster, leaned toward Pastor Burke and whispered something.
Then he stepped aside as Pastor Burke took the microphone.
The hall fell silent.
"It has been brought to my notice," Pastor Burke began, his tone firm but controlled, "that Brother Fred Thompson and Brother Gregory Fisher have been handling the choir department however they please."
A soft murmur spread through the choir.
"Last month, there was even a confrontation between Brother Fred and Brother Alex," he continued, "simply because Alex corrected them regarding their attitude toward their roles as deputies. Some of you may think this is nothing compared to your workplace responsibilities, but the Bible says we must be diligent in all things."
The hall grew still again.
"After speaking with the Assistant General Overseer, we agreed that the choir needs stronger structure. Someone trusted within the North East region was recommended. He once served as choir master in his zone and has shown consistent commitment even while working in the medical field."
Whispers rose.
Martha listened closely.
"He is also the son of renowned missionaries across Europe," Pastor Burke continued. "Ladies and gentlemen, the South West region is growing, and Brother Alex Warren cannot handle the entire workload alone. Therefore, we now have two choir masters."
He paused.
"As for Gregory Fisher and Fred Thompson… they are officially relieved of their duties as deputies. They will remain members of the choir, but no longer in leadership roles."
Shock rippled through the room.
Pastor Burke raised his hand for calm.
"I will announce their replacement shortly. For now, let us welcome our second choir master. Put your hands together for my son in the Lord, Brother Raymond Whitmore."
Applause thundered through the hall.
Raymond Whitmore.
Her heart flipped.
The man who saved her from Dave Benson.
The man who drove her to the clinic.
The man she had never expected to see again in this lifetime.
And now...he was their choir master?
She was still standing, stunned, when Pastor Burke suddenly looked at her.
"Sister Martha? Do you have anything to say?"
She blinked hard, startled back to reality.
"No, sir," she replied quickly, lowering herself into her seat.
Pastor Burke smiled and continued.
"And now, the new deputy who will be assisting our two choir masters… the outstanding tenor singer… Martha Smith!".
Her heart dropped.
Applause erupted again as she stood, overwhelmed.
"Martha," Pastor Burke added, "will be working closely with Brother Raymond and Brother Alex. She will write meeting minutes, oversee attendance reports, receive members' contributions, and coordinate departmental communication."
Martha walked forward amid the applause.
As she approached Raymond, he gasped lightly.
"Are you in this church?" he asked under his breath.
"Since twenty years now," she replied. "What about you?"
"I have been in Christ Divine all my life," he said, still surprised. "I'm just shocked seeing you here."
She smiled faintly. "Especially since you sneaked out of the clinic the other day."
He chuckled softly. "I only wanted to help you...and to make sure you knew you didn't owe me anything."
"I do owe you," she whispered.
He tilted his head, studying her. "Can you pay back?"
"Definitely."
"We'll see about that," he murmured with a mischievous glint.
After Pastor Burke finished the introductions, Raymond stepped forward again.
"Choir," he said warmly, "before we continue, I'd love to hear from three of you. Tell me...what have you learned so far about music and its impact on spiritual leadership?"
Hands rose.
He pointed to a young man.
"Music is a ministry," Samuel said. "I've learned that our voices can draw souls to God or push them away depending on our spiritual state."
Raymond nodded."For me, music shapes atmosphere," she said. "A spiritually dry choir weakens a service. But a spiritually prepared choir can break yokes even before the message."
"I've learned discipline," Daniel said.
"Without discipline, the gift becomes noise. Leadership requires both skill and spirituality."
"Excellent," Raymond replied.
He walked forward confidently.
"Now listen," he said. "Every voice in this room has a place. Some of you are sopranos...your voices soar. Some are altos...warm and steady. Some are tenors...bright and firm. And some are basses...your voices carry the foundation of every harmony."
He pointed at the choir.
"A choir becomes powerful when each voice stands in the right position."
He divided them into groups of fifteen, calling them out section by section.
"Your test song is Blessed Assurance," he announced.
As they sang, he moved among them like a trained ear, pulling certain members toward soprano, shifting some to tenor, moving a few to bass, and gently relocating those with weaker projection to the treble group.
He was patient but precise...every adjustment intentional.
When they finished, he stepped forward again.
"Now," he said, "I want seven of you to lead a short praise session...one after the other."
They stepped out, and he listened attentively, choosing only those who carried the right presence, energy, and spiritual weight.
He cleared his throat.
"Before we end, let me tell you something many music ministers don't know."
The choir leaned in.
"There are things you eat and drink that weaken your vocal cords but are rarely talked about, bitter kola before ministration, and overly spicy foods hours before singing. They dry your throat, tighten your cords, and weaken projection."
The choir murmured, surprised.
"These things won't destroy your voice," he continued, "but they will interfere with spiritual and vocal clarity."
He picked up a sheet.
His cologne hanging in the air as he walked on while he spoke.
"These are the doctrines of the church. I will not compromise them."
He read:
"Christ Divine Choir must not step down from the altar during preaching.
They must leave the altar only twice...and that must be before the message.
Female ministers must cover their hair during ministration.
No member is permitted to engage in loud quarrels.
Members will be randomly chosen to preach during rehearsals...as a test of spiritual growth.
Premarital sex is forbidden, and violators will be sanctioned by headquarters.
Members cannot serve in other units outside the choir.
Members must be punctual...arriving at least fifteen minutes before rehearsals or ministration.
Transport allowances will only be paid if you are present at least four times per month.
Every choir member must smell clean and pleasant. Anyone who violates this will not minister."
He paused, letting the weight settle.
"I know many of you have heard these doctrines before. But I am reading them again so you understand...there will be no compromise. These rules keep order in God's house."
Applause filled the hall.
As the choir packed up to go home, Raymond sat with Alex, listening carefully to the department's past activities and upcoming programs.
Martha remained nearby marking the attendance register.
Two beautiful ladies, Regina and Sophia, approached Raymond.
Regina, tall with a shaved hairstyle, smiled.
"We're glad to have you with us today, sir. You brought discipline."
"There was discipline before I arrived," he replied calmly. "But thank you. What are your names?"
"I'm Regina," she said.
"And I'm Sophia," the girl with cornrows added. Then, without shame, "Are you married, sir?"
"No," Raymond replied, politely turning back to Alex.
Regina and Sophia walked over to Martha next.
"Congratulations on your promotion,"
Regina said.
"Thank you," Martha replied warmly.
Regina leaned closer. "Are you planning to marry Brother Raymond Whitmore?"
Raymond and Alex both looked up sharply.
Martha forced a light laugh. "All those questions you're asking are personal, Regina."
Regina narrowed her eyes. "Why should anything be personal between you and brother Raymond when you're currently dating Fred and already planning marriage?"
Martha understood.
Regina had always liked Fred.
Now she was jealous...and insecure about Raymond.
"Whatever exists between me and Richard is purely platonic," Martha said simply.
Regina smiled tightly. "Alright then. Thank you, Martha."
She walked off with Sophia.
Regina Cassie...relative of Queen Elizabeth, from a powerful family...yet still unable to win Fred Thompson's heart.
Martha, Raymond and Alex walked into Pastor Burke's office for final updates on upcoming church programs.
After the briefing, they stepped out together.
Alex hurried back to the church, realizing he forgot something.
Martha walked ahead quietly, her heart suddenly heavy.
Raymond walked beside her calmly, hands in his pockets, confidence radiating from him.
"Let me give you a ride home, Martha Smith," he said in a way that didn't look like a request.
Before she could think of a reply, he opened his car door for her.
He waited with quiet authority.
She entered.
The car smelled of mild cashmere bouquet...nothing choking like the air fresheners in other people's cars.
Raymond joined her.
His cologne rested softly in the air.
He started the engine. "Please buckle up."
He drove with an easy smile, like a man with no worries in the world.
"Is this coincidence?" he asked suddenly, voice low. "That I ended up working in your church?"
She smiled. "Yes… coincidence."
He studied her briefly; his smile faded into something deeper.
"I want to marry you, Martha Smith."
Her breath caught.
Her fingers trembled on the seatbelt.
He remained serious...very serious.
"I wanted to tell you at the clinic," he said.
"But the time wasn't right."
"I'm in a relationship," she whispered.
"I know."
He met her eyes.
"Then why say this?" she demanded softly.
"Because the Lord told me so the first day we met."
Her pulse quickened.
"What is supposed to happen to my ten-year relationship?" she asked.
Raymond's eyes searched hers.
"Are you happy in that ten-year relationship?"
Her heart dropped.
He wasn't an ordinary man.
"Why do you ask?" she managed.
"Because if you were truly happy," he said quietly, "God would not tell me that you are my wife."
"My relationship is great," she said quickly.
He nodded, but his eyes held the truth.
"The first time I saw you, I loved you more than how I ever loved anyone my whole life. There was this urge to swallow every pain you hide from everyone. That feeling is not ordinary.Our meeting is divine".
Her own heart felt heavy...too heavy.
Why did she always feel this way around him?
Was it because of his confidence?
Was it because he looked strangely like Jesus?
Or something else?
He continued driving, eyes on the road.
"How do you feel right now?" he asked softly.
"Is your heart beating?"
He placed his hand on his chest.
"Mine feels like it wants to explode every time I see you."
She gasped inwardly.
That was exactly how she felt.
When they reached her house, he stopped the car.
"You live here?" he asked in surprise.
"Yes." She stepped out.
She expected him to say, 'Don't worry about what I said. Don't feel pressured'.
But instead he said...
"Ask God about me tonight, Martha.
Have you even asked God about your current boyfriend?"
She froze.
He smiled faintly…and drove away.
"No wonder you no longer call me like you used to," she heard Fred's voice behind her immediately Raymond's car zoomed off.
She spun around, startled. "What are you doing here?"
Fred scoffed. "What am I doing in my girlfriend's house? Are you seriously asking me that?"
"I've been your girlfriend for ten years, Fred and I have still not given you any reason to marry me?".
"That is because you've still not given me a reason to put a ring on your finger!" he snapped. "You're just getting angry at everything lately. You didn't even finish that task you were supposed to close three days ago! If you keep acting like this, how will Smith Benson promote you? How will you become the woman of my dreams?"
At that moment, something inside her cracked...and the shell finally fell from her eyes.
Everything became painfully clear.
For years, she had been striving...bending herself, draining herself...hoping to convince a man to choose her.
She had been fighting to qualify for a proposal.
Working herself to exhaustion.
Trying to give him "reasons" to see her worth.
But a man who truly loves you doesn't need you to prove anything.
She had stopped baking.
Stopped cooking.
Stopped doing the little things she loved.
She had lost her joy trying to earn a place in a future he dangled like a prize.
She was tired.
Tired of begging for love.
Tired of bending under pressure.
Tired of a relationship that only took from her.
And suddenly, she knew it...deeply, unmistakably...
She needed peace.
And peace would never come as long as she remained under Carter Organization and under Fred Thompson's shadow.
If a man she barely knew could say he wanted to marry her without demanding that she "prove" herself…
Then she was more valuable than she thought...
She was worthy...
Then God had chosen her long before any man had an opinion about her.
It was time for Fred to bow.
She would no longer bow to him.
Tears gathered in her eyes as she looked at the man who had held her heart hostage for a decade.
"Fred Thompson," she said quietly, voice steadier than she expected, "I am done trying to be the woman you want me to be. I am completely, totally done."
Fred let out a short, mocking laugh. "You always say that.".
"Yes," she admitted softly. "I always said that… and I always failed, because I loved you too much." She inhaled. "But now? Now I am going to start loving myself too."
He rolled his eyes. "Come back to your senses."
"I have," she replied. "I'm finally back to my senses."
She turned, walked into her house, and locked the door.
From the window, she watched, waiting...half-hoping he would knock, apologize, fight for her.
But he didn't.
He simply drove away, confident.
Confident that she would return.
Confident that she would crawl back.
Confident that she would be his again.
But for the first time in ten years…
She no longer wanted to.