Still Waters (Part 3)- Silent Tension

Catch up on Part 1 here.

There's also Part 2 here.

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Chenu let his fingers hover over the keyboard as he searched for one more specialist. He had barely slept since he saw her test results last night. The weight of it all was heavy on his chest. He’d only feel better if he started working on a plan once and for all. 

When Ladi walked in, he straightened, rubbing his palms together. "Come here, babe”, he reached out, pulling her to his lap.

Ladi hesitated before settling in. Chenu passed the notepad toward her. "I've made a list of specialists. There’s one in Abuja, another good one in Lagos, and a highly recommended one in Johannesburg. I’ve sent emails, and two of them have already responded. I also checked treatment options, both here and abroad. And look, "he turned his laptop toward her, his voice charged with energy, "there are clinical trials we can apply for."

Ladi blinked, her lips parting slightly. He was ready. He had thrown himself into this, taken the burden she hadn’t even given him, and placed it squarely on his shoulders. Typical Chenu, she mused. She reached for his hand, squeezing gently. "Thank you," she said, her voice soft. "I know you're doing this because you love me."

"Of course, I love you, and I need you to know we're not leaving any stone unturned."

She inhaled sharply. "But I need to pray about this first."

Chenu frowned. "Pray?"

"Yes," she said, voice steadier. "I need to take this to God. I need to hear what He's saying before we start running around looking for answers, and throwing money around."

Chenu pulled his hand away, sitting back. "Ladi, God has already answered in many ways. He gave doctors wisdom. He gave us access to care. We don't need to wait for a sign when we have options right in front of us."

"But I do need to wait," she insisted, leaning forward. "I know God heals in different ways, but what if I'm meant to trust Him in this season? What if running after every medical possibility isn't the answer? What if the answer is simply faith?"

Chenu’s jaw tightened. "So what are you saying? That we sit back and do nothing?"

"I'm saying I need to hear from God before I take any step."

Chenu exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Ladi, I am hearing from God. And He's saying, 'Move.' He's saying, 'Do what you can.' Faith isn’t waiting idly. Faith is action."

Ladi folded her arms across her chest, eyes dark with resolve. "Faith is also trust."

A silence stretched between them, thick, unyielding. Each of them sizing up the other, waiting for the first person to yield.

Chenu looked at his notes, his plans, his carefully laid-out strategies, and then at his wife, the woman he loved beyond reason, the same girl who used to 'scatter his dada'. She wasn’t budging.

Well, neither was he.

For just as the body without the spirit is dead, so also faith without works is dead. James 2:26

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Days passed, and so did their silent battle. There was an invisible elephant in the room, and they could both see it. 

Although Chenu no longer mentioned treatment plans, Ladi knew he was still searching. She could hear his fingers tapping against his keyboard late into the night, the hum of medical videos playing softly in the background. He was always asking Alexa about different treatment options, articles about hope, and testimonies of successful recoveries. He didn’t say anything to her, but he made sure she saw and heard everything. He was waiting for her to change her mind.

Ladi, on the other hand, wasn’t planning to give up just yet. 

She prayed. Isaiah 41:10 was her mantra. She prayed it as she woke up and as she went to bed each night. Don't be afraid. I am with you. Don't tremble with fear. I am your God. I will make you strong, as I protect you with my arm and give you victories.

Every morning before dawn, she sat in the corner of the bedroom, Bible open, heart open wider. She begged God for peace, clarity, a sign, and for strength. She fasted, journaled, and kept the diagnosis tucked in the deepest part of her heart, hoping for a whisper from Heaven.

When she finished, she would walk out into the kitchen, make his tea, kiss him on the cheek, and ask about his day.

They smiled. They laughed when friends were around. They cooked together. But there was a wall between them, neither knew how to breach without collapsing everything else.

But those who wait upon the LORD will renew their strength; they will mount up with wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not faint. Isaiah 40:31

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One Sunday after service, Chenu’s mother called. Ladi was in the other room when he answered.

"I heard from Sister Ronke. She said she saw Ladi at the hospital last week," her voice was sharp, laced with concern. "Is she alright?"

Chenu hesitated. "She’s... going through something. But we’re handling it."

"Have you started treatment?"

"Not yet."

Silence.

"Chenu, you need to act. Don’t wait. You remember what happened to your aunt—by the time she started anything, it was too late."

He rubbed his forehead. "I know. I’m trying. But Ladi wants to wait."

His mother scoffed gently. "Wait for what? Miracles don’t cancel medicine. God heals through doctors, too."

That night, Ladi’s best friend called her.

“I’ve been praying for you,” she said, her voice trembling. “But you also need to let Chenu help you. He’s scared. He just doesn’t say it.”

Ladi stared at the wall, tears stinging her eyes.

“I know you're afraid too, but maybe this isn’t just about you anymore.”

Ladi Sighed. How was she going to keep explaining that she was in the waiting room? It wasn't a concept everyone understood, and frankly, she needed God to answer her quickly, so people would stop thinking she was "delulu". She decided to answer Ene softly. "Thank you Ene, I will try not to scare him, and consider everyone else too". She was tired of the pressure from all sides. God, you need to act fast!