“Ladi, odi ne?”
“Have I offended you in any way?” Chenu’s voice was low and soft, but his eyes held concern. “Your eyes are guarded, and your hackles are up. I could almost swear you growled at me this morning.” He stepped into the kitchen, his tone a mixture of confusion and worry. “My love, did I do something wrong?”
“Then why have you been building walls around yourself this past week?” Chenu’s voice softened as he spoke, his fingers gently stroking her back. “At first, I thought you were tired, but I watched you smile at everyone else, and when I approached you... the smile vanished. My love, tell me what I’ve done. I promised myself I’d never be the cause of your sadness. Please, tell me.” His voice cracked with sincerity. “Tell me, and I’ll apologize at once and try to make it right. Anything you want, I’ll fix it.”
She shook her head, her breath catching.
“K’ocho men,” he teased with a light chuckle, trying to lighten the mood and kissing her neck, but the mischief in his eyes couldn’t mask the worry. “I’d slay a dragon for you, my Ugboju princess”.
He expected her to melt in his arms as always, but Ladi stepped back abruptly, her face hardening. “Please leave me alone. I have a report to submit.” Her voice was sharp as she turned on her heel, grabbed her coffee cup, and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Chenu standing there, unsure and confused.
Chenu stood in the kitchen, the silence pressing in like a weight. His eyes lingered on the spot where Ladi had just stood, the air between them now thick with unspoken words. He should have known better than to push her when she was like this, but something in him refused to let go. This was the love of his life. If she wasn’t happy, how could he even breathe?
He had been patient with her for one week, but no more. He needed his sweet, charming wife back. The walls she'd built around herself weren’t just invisible barriers—they were a cold, unyielding fortress, and he couldn't break through. He felt alone, and that was bad. Since falling hopelessly in love with her, he always knew it was them against the world. Right now, he was completely on his own. Oh, this was bad!
Ladi’s footsteps echoed in the hallway as she moved away. He knew she needed space, but the uncertainty gnawed at him. He finally exhaled, scratching his hair. The distant click-clack of her manicured nails typing furiously on her laptop in the other room was a constant reminder of the distance between them.
He hadn’t seen her like this in years. They’d built a life together, forged a bond stronger than anything either of them had ever known. And now… now there was something in the air. Something unsaid.
With a deep breath, Chenu made his way into the living room, standing in the doorway to watch her. She sat at the desk, her face illuminated by the glow of the screen, eyes focused but distant. Her fingers moved quickly, typing as though the report was the only thing anchoring her to the present.
“Ladi…” he said softly, not wanting to startle her but needing to hear her voice, to know what was going on behind those guarded eyes.
She didn’t respond immediately, and for a moment, Chenu thought she hadn’t heard him. But then she looked up, her gaze briefly meeting his before dropping again to the screen.
“I’ll be fine,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just need to finish this. I’ll talk to you later.”
But he wasn’t convinced. The usual warmth in her eyes was missing, replaced by something colder—something he couldn’t name.
“Ladi…” He moved closer, stopping just a few feet away, the distance between them too much to ignore. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I can’t just let you shut me out. I can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine when you’re pulling away.”
She didn’t look at him again, her fingers still moving over the keyboard with mechanical precision. “You wouldn’t understand,” she muttered, almost to herself.
“Try me,” he said, his voice firm but soft. “We’re supposed to be in this together. Whatever it is, I want to help. You’re not alone, Ladi.”
The silence hung between them. Her hands paused over the keys, and for a moment, she looked like she might finally let go of the tension, but then she stiffened again, her shoulders tight.
“I don’t know if you can,” she whispered, the words barely audible.
Chenu’s heart clenched. Something was wrong. Something deeper than a missed conversation or an unspoken word. But whatever it was, he would fight for her.
For them.
He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. Psalm 23:2
------
Ladi sat at her desk, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, the glow of her laptop screen illuminating the unshed tears in her eyes. The words in her report blurred together, not because she was exhausted, but because of fear. The fear had laid a cold hand on her in the doctor’s office as he told her the diagnosis. That deep, bone-chilling fear that she hadn’t been able to shake off had gradually spread over her body, making her feel cold. She repeated his words: "We caught it early, but it’s still serious. You’ll need treatment, and it won’t be easy.”
She had nodded, absorbing the information in silence. But now, days later, the weight of those words pressed on her like a boulder, suffocating her.
She did not tell Chenu.
How could she? She had seen this story play out before—her father walking out on her mother when things got hard after her illness. She remembered the nights her mother had cried, the way her shoulders had sagged under the weight of abandonment and the illness. Ladi had sworn never to put herself in that position. If she never told Chenu, she would never have to see the look of pity—or worse, the slow retreat, the excuses, the empty spaces where his presence used to be. She would bask in his love while it lasted. She decided she wasn’t quite ready to fight the fear.
So, she built walls. Smiled at everyone else, but not at him. She couldn't afford to see his love and let it soften her resolve. She would deal with this alone. It was safer that way.
But Chenu wasn’t one to be pushed away easily. He had noticed her withdrawal, and tonight, he wasn’t letting it slide.
“Ekum” His voice was gentle but firm, as he laid a hand on her shoulder. “What is going on? We promised to do life together, but now you are doing it alone. Do you think God is pleased?”
“Please, leave me alone. I am not done with my report” she snapped, gripping her coffee cup like a lifeline.
Chenu didn’t move. He watched her for a moment, then simply said, “No.”
She blinked, caught off guard. “No?”
“No, I won’t leave you alone.” He took a step closer. “Not when you’re hurting. Not when you’re shutting me out.”
The lump in her throat grew unbearable. The weight of her secret pressed down on her, crushing her resolve. And then, before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out in a whisper, barely audible.
“I’m sick, Chenu.”
His expression didn’t change at first. He just stood there, the air between them thick with unspoken things. Then he reached for her, pulling her up into his arms. This time, she didn’t resist.
“I’m here,” he murmured into her hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Ladi closed her eyes, the first tear slipping down her cheek. For the first time since the diagnosis, she let herself feel.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. Psalm 23:4
*******************
Chenu sat in the dim light of his study, his laptop open, the glow reflecting in his tired eyes. His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he scrolled through medical journals, patient testimonials, and treatment options. A lump sat in his throat, but he swallowed it down. He couldn’t afford to falter—not now. Not when Ladi needed him the most.
He had known something was wrong, had felt the distance growing between them. But he had never expected this. The diagnosis sat in his mind like an immovable weight, yet he refused to crumble under it. He wouldn’t be like her father. He wouldn’t walk away.
Determined, he combed through her medical records, deciphering the cold, clinical language that dictated their new reality. He took notes, mapped out specialists, and even looked into financial options. If necessary, he would take loans, sell one car, get a side hustle—whatever it took to ensure Ladi had access to the best care available.
But how could he make her see that? How could he convince her that he wasn’t going anywhere, that she didn’t have to bear this alone? He replayed their conversations over the past week, the way her eyes had shuttered, her shoulders stiffening whenever he got too close. She was pushing him away, guarding herself against a heartbreak she expected.
It hurt for her to compare him with her father, made him feel like she thought the worst of him, and saw him as someone who was only there for the good times. He had always known Ladi carried wounds from her past, but this? This fear that he would abandon her just as her father had left her mother—it shattered him. Hadn’t he spent years proving to her that he was different? That she was safe with him?
He wished she had more confidence in him. But this wasn’t the time to dwell on all that. Now was the time to stay with her, stand with her, fight with her, fight for her, and pray with and for her.
He exhaled sharply and closed his laptop. He finally had a plan. Tomorrow, he would sit her down, look her in the eyes, and tell her exactly what he intended to do. And if she was too scared to believe in forever, he would prove it to her, one day at a time.
------
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
*******************
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
*******************
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!
------
Ladi curled up in the corner of the couch, arms wrapped tightly around herself, the flickering television casting shadows across her face. The living room was quiet except for the gentle hum of the air conditioner. Chenu stood by the window, phone in hand, his thumb hovering over a contact: Dr. Hamzat_Oncologist.
“I have booked the initial tests,” he said without turning around. “We can start the advanced treatment phase next week. They said there’s an immunotherapy trial we might qualify for. I’ve sent over your records.”
Ladi didn’t respond.
“I’ve also spoken with our account officer at the bank. If we need to take a loan along the way, it will be available. Whatever it takes. I promise you won’t walk this road alone.”
More silence.
He finally turned, slowly, and moved closer. “Ladi, did you hear me?”
“Yes, I did.” Her voice was steady, but flat. “And I wish I didn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
She stretched and stood. “Chenu, you’re moving too fast. You’re making all these decisions like it’s just another project to manage.”
“It’s not a project,” he said, kneeling in front of her. “It’s your life, and you are my life!"
“I’m glad you remember it’s my life. It’s about my faith, too!” she croaked, her eyes became shiny as she willed herself not to cry. “You’re acting like medicine is our only hope. Like God isn’t still in this.”
“I never said that,” Chenu replied, wounded. “But faith doesn’t mean doing nothing. We can believe and still act. Faith with works”
She stood abruptly, pacing now. “You think I’m doing nothing? You think the hours I’ve spent in prayer, in tears, are easy? Do you think my faith is passive?”
“No, I don’t,” he said quietly, sitting on the chair she just vacated. “But I wonder if you are afraid that acting with faith means you’ve given up on a miracle.”
She jerked back as his words hit her like a slap. She rambled, “I watched my father profess to love my mum for the rest of his life. At the onset of her diagnosis, he was distant, then he walked away when she needed him the most!” she whispered. “He couldn’t handle it. He left because her body was failing. I don’t want to put you in that same situation.”
Chenu rose slowly. “Ladi. I’m not your father.”
“I know that,” she said quietly, her voice was barely a whisper. “I know you are not my father, but I’m still scared. I don’t want to rush into treatments, and my body will start to shut down. I want peace before I move.”
“Move where? Babe, please perish that thought immediately. You know I can’t just sit here and wait,” he said. “Not while something inside you is trying to destroy you. Ekum, let us fight this together.”
Their silence was thick- two hearts divided, not by love, but by how to protect that love.
*******************
Ladi sat rigidly at her desk, staring intently at the dashboard she was building, but seeing nothing. Chenu leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, the faint sound of news playing behind him from the living room.
“Please hear me out, my love. I spoke with the oncologist again,” he began, voice steady but low. “She’s willing to refer us to a specialist in Chicago. I’ve asked questions, and all plans are in place; I just need you to agree.”
She didn’t look up.
“I even found a clinical trial - early stages, but promising,” he added.
“Chenu,” she said, finally turning to him. Her face was calm, too calm. “Have you asked God about this?”
He blinked. “Ladi. This isn’t one of those things we can pray away. I’m not saying don’t pray. I believe we should pray as we work towards healing. Let’s not wait while the clock runs out.”
“You think I’m just sitting here doing nothing?” Her voice cracked.
“I think you’re hoping God will give you a different answer than the one we already have,” he replied gently. “But what if this is His answer- doctors, medicine, science? What if He’s waiting on us to move before He shows His might?”
She stood abruptly. “You don’t understand. I can’t just walk into a hospital and pretend it’s all fine. You didn’t see my mother beg my father to stay. He left the moment he saw her chart. He ran, Chenu. I’m not ready to go down the same road.”
“I’m not your father, Ladi.” His voice was firm now. “I’m here. I’ll be here tomorrow. I’ll still be here, even when you hate me for pushing. But I’m not watching you die while waiting for a sign.”
Tears welled in her eyes. She didn’t want to believe he was right, but the weight of her fear pressed harder than any diagnosis ever could. So what then?
Ladi read it twice, then looked up at Chenu, who stood like a solid wall by her side. He closed the gap between them and enveloped her in a hug, then whispered in her ears, “For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but one of power, love, and sound judgment.” She let out a gasp as she allowed him to hug her tightly. She sobbed into his shirt, holding on for her dear life.
Yet in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. Romans 8:37
He didn’t speak. He walked over, sat beside her, and placed something gently on the table—her favorite mug, filled with warm ginger tea.
She looked at it, then at him. “You didn’t have to.”
“I know,” he said softly. “But I wanted to.”
A beat of silence passed.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Burying her face in the crook of his neck. “Not for believing God will heal me. But for acting like you were the enemy.”
“I’m sorry too,” Chenu replied as he kissed her forehead. “For pushing when I should’ve sat with you longer. I just… I love you too much to do nothing.”
Ladi’s lips trembled. “I’m scared.”
“I am, too,” he admitted, reaching for her hand. “But I’d rather be scared together than strong apart.”
She adjusted her head on his shoulder, and for the first time in weeks, there were no walls inside her head or heart. This was not because the storm had passed, but because she was no longer alone in it. She had decided to face this storm with the partner God had provided for her. She finally made her decision, and she was going to let God lead her. She turned to face him, adjusting herself. “I want to see the specialist,” she said quietly, “but… I also need time to pray. Really pray. Not out of fear. Out of faith.”
Chenu beamed. This was a miracle! She had finally agreed. Thank you, Lord, He silently mouthed. He wanted to pick her up and kiss her, but he thought against doing it now. Instead, he nodded gently. “Then we’ll do both. We’ll fight with prayer and medicine. You don’t have to choose one over the other. I’ll be right beside you all the way. When I chose you, it was all of you, not a part or certain parts. We will weather this storm together, God on our side."
In that fragile moment, they found their rhythm again—not perfect, but real. Two believers navigating fear, faith, and love. Together.
There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear… I John 4:18
------
The room was larger than she expected. Fifteen chairs in a circle, a pot of coffee on a side table, and a board filled with flyers and handwritten notes of encouragement. In that circle were fifteen faces, some familiar, others not. Each one's face had a story. They listened with rapt attention, not wanting to miss out on anything she was saying.
Ladi stood near the front, heart steady, a huge smile on her face. She radiated peace.
“This time last year,” she began, fingers resting on the folded edges of her notes, “I was angry with God. And terrified. I didn’t know what to do with a diagnosis that felt like a sentence.”
The women around her listened quietly, some nodding, others simply holding her gaze with knowing eyes.
“But something happened when I stopped choosing between faith and action, when I realized God could work through both prayer and medicine.”
She paused, remembering Chenu’s steady hands, his unwavering presence, his practical love. That man was the gift God gave her, tailored for her. She smiled again. She couldn’t wait to go outside to meet him. Her husband had balked at the idea of being in the room with fifteen other women. She smiled when she remembered how pale he had gotten when she asked him to come sit with the women. She quickly redirected her thoughts.
“I’m still healing, she continued. Still learning. But I’m not where I was. And I want you to know, you can be scared and still believe. You can cry and still pray. You can let others in and still be strong.”
As the meeting ended and the women lingered in conversation, one younger woman approached her.
“I’m where you were,” she said, voice low. “Would you… er.. mind talking more sometime with me?”
Ladi smiled, her eyes lit up. “Absolutely! Let's exchange numbers. I’ll be sure to check up on you. Feel free to reach out to me at any time.”
Outside, the late hot afternoon breeze carried the scent of dust and rain. Ladi walked briskly to the car, where Chenu was waiting with a pack of spicy plantain chips and that same look—the one that said, we're still in this together. Her heartbeat increased slightly. How could this man still make butterflies dance in her belly? She was so blessed!
She got into the car and reclined as she prepared for the drive home. Home, the place she shared with Chenu. She smiled and opened her plantain chips, kicking off her shoes. She was ready for the drive, anywhere God was leading her.
For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8:38-39
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