Chapter 1 Happy New year?
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
“Happy New Year!”
The room erupted with voices as we clinked our glasses of non-alcoholic wine together. The sound of laughter filled the dining room, mixing with the soft music playing in the background.
Everyone smiled.
Everyone except Grandma.
“We should have gone to church to celebrate the new year,” she said, shaking her head slightly.
“Mama,” Dad said gently, reaching across the table to hold her hand. “You know Genevieve had to work. But don’t worry, tomorrow is Sunday. We will all go to church.”
Every new year, we went to church.
It was a tradition.
We would sing praises, pray together, and welcome the year in God’s presence.
But this year felt different.
Mum, being the head of the surgery department, had been called in for an important procedure briefing for a six-year-old patient. Dad, being Dad, refused to let us go without her.
He always said church was something we should experience together as a family.
“Adina, dear, please lead us in prayer,” Grandma said.
My older sister sighed quietly before standing.
I understood why.
Between university lectures, raising Sophie, and trying to finish her master’s degree, Adina was always exhausted.
But she never complained.
Grandma often said living abroad had changed us.
“Being away from home has made you all too westernised,” she would say. “If you were born in Nigeria, you would understand the power of prayer.”
I remembered one day when she visited our church last Christmas and said the same thing.
“But Grandma,” I had replied, “I don’t think you should compare different countries’ prayer lives. God is still the same, no matter where we come from.”
She looked at me for a moment.
“Jael, you won’t understand yet. You’re still young.”
Her voice softened, but her words stayed heavy.
“As long as you’re in this world, you have to be sensitive to what is around you. You have to be spiritual. You have to take God seriously.”
Her eyes moved between me, Daniel, and Adina.
“Because I can see that among the three of you, none of you truly loves the Lord.”
I remembered how quiet I became.
I wanted to defend myself.
I wanted to say she was wrong.
But I couldn’t.
Because deep down, I wasn’t even sure what my relationship with God was.
I believed in Him.
At least, I thought I did.
But taking Him seriously?
I wasn’t sure.
After Adina finished praying, Daniel prayed next, followed by me, Sophie, and Dad.
Then Grandma ended with another thirty-minute prayer.
No one interrupted her.
We were used to it.
Later, after more conversations about the new year and finishing the snacks on the dining table, I carried Sophie to my room.
She wanted to listen to my favourite artist, Nova Cross, and his new song Counting Seconds.
We lay on my bed, writing down our goals for the year.
My goal was obvious.
Get all 9s in my GCSE exams.
Get into my dream college.
Crownfield College.
My parents had been talking about Crownfield since I was in Year Seven, always reminding me that it was the sort of place I should aim for. And after watching Daniel graduate from there and move on to university, I wanted it even more.
Honestly, with my parents’ support and reputation, I knew getting in wouldn’t be impossible.
I looked over at Sophie’s notebook.
I wasn’t surprised.
Her words read:
“God, please let my maths tests be harder this year.”
I laughed quietly.
Of course.
Just like her mother.
Both of them loved maths in a way I would never understand.
“Don’t worry, Sophie. I know you’ll smash it.”
I reached over and played with her soft, dimpled cheeks.
“I know,” she replied sleepily. “But Mawma always says writing your requests down means God can answer them better than just keeping them in your head.”
“Is that so?”
I smiled as I turned off the CD player.
After changing into my pyjamas, I tucked Sophie into bed properly.
As I walked across the room to turn off the light, my eyes stopped.
There it was.
My pink Bible.
Sitting untouched.
Covered in dust.
Grandma had given it to me last year when I turned fifteen.
For some reason, looking at it made my chest feel heavy.
Then—
“No. No. Choose me!”
The voice screamed inside my head.
I froze.
My heart began pounding.
I didn’t know where it came from.
I didn’t know who was speaking.
But I knew one thing.
Something didn’t want me to pick it up.
I climbed back into bed, facing the ceiling, but the voice followed me.
Louder.
Closer.
Until eventually, it pulled me into a deep sleep.
