Heart Fire.

Chapter Thirteen: "Did I just hear Muahh?"

​​Solape’s P.O.V:

Solape stood in front of the mirror longer than necessary.

Not because she didn’t know what she wanted to wear, but because she did.

She looked good, if she did say so herself.

The silk sheath dress was simple. Soft. The kind of thing that didn’t announce itself but stayed remembered. She adjusted the strap once, then twice, then laughed at herself.

“You’re doing too much,” she muttered.

From the stairway, her father’s voice floated up. “Oluwasolamipe, where did you say you were going again?”

She smiled.

“Out.”

She stepped out, bag in hand.

Her father looked at her, glasses perched low on his nose. He studied her for a moment—really studied her—then nodded slowly.

“You’re glowing,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “Please.”

“I’m serious,” he replied. “You look happy.”

She leaned down and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be back later.”

As she reached the door, his voice stopped her.

“Solape.”

She turned.

“One of these days,” he said lightly, “you’ll have to introduce me to the man who keeps making you smile like this.”

Her breath caught in surprise.

She smiled. “One day.”

****************

When she stepped out of the house, and walked towards Korede, she like that she saw him visibly swallow. The dress was working.

As she got closer to him, he held out a hand to her and turned her around.

“Wow” He said, “just wow”

She smiled, and stretched to kiss his cheek.

“Thank you.” She said as she got into the car.

When he sat beside her, and they pulled out, she wondered how she was going to bring up meeting her father.

As they drove on, she mentioned it casually. Or tried to.

“My dad said something funny earlier,” she said, staring out the window.

Korede glanced at her. “Funny how?”

“He said he’d like to meet the man taking me out.”

Korede slowed slightly. “And how did that make you feel?”

She shrugged.

They drove in silence for a few seconds.

Then he spoke. “We could go back.”

She turned to him. “What?”

“We could go back,” he repeated. “Have the evening with him.”

She searched his face for hesitation. Found none.

“You’re serious.”

“Yes.”

Her heart did a small, traitorous flip. “You don’t have to.”

“I know,” he said gently. “I want to.”

She nodded once. “Okay.”

*****************

Her father answered the door himself.

He took one look at Korede and smiled… a bit warmly, full on assessing.

“So,” he said, extending his hand, “you must be the reason my daughter has been humming around the house.”

Korede laughed easily and shook his hand. “I hope for the right reasons, sir. Korede Adeniyi sir. It’s very great to finally meet you.”

“Gbeke Odunjo is the name.” Her Father said, “Come in. Sit.”

They settled into the living room like men who understood each other’s silences, while Solape got busy hosting.

Sports came first. A game was on. Safe ground.

“Are you an Arsenal fan ?” her father asked.

Korede grimaced. “Don’t punish me sir. The red devils sir”

“Ah. A Pastor that cheers for the devils.” Her father said with a smirk

Korede laughed loud at this, “They are the only devils I don’t cast out sir”

Her father raised an eyebrow. “Ah. Pentecostal Pastor. Our expressive cousins.”

Korede smiled. “We try not to scare people. But we do have authority to trample on serpents and scorpions sir, and every other ability of the enemy. And we take the job seriously.”

“That’s fine.” Her father answered, nodding his head with understanding, “I’m Anglican. You do the trampling, we would do the reverent worshipping.”

Korede laughed, “As long as you believe it is by the grace of Jesus you are saved sir?”

“Definitely.” Her father answered definitively, “Ephesians 2:8-9”

“That’s settled sir.” Korede answered, “We’d deal with the demons later.”

At this point, Solape walked in with a tray.

She stopped short when she caught the tail end of the conversation, She stared at both of them. “I leave you two alone for five minutes.”

Her father leaned back in his chair, thoroughly pleased. “Your pastor friend here has very interesting priorities.”

Solape sighed. “Dad.”

Korede stood instinctively, polite. “I was just clarifying doctrine, sir.”

“Oh, he’s clarified plenty,” her father replied. Then he turned to her. “So. This is him.”

“Yes,” Solape said. “This is him.”

Her father looked between them. Took in the way Korede stood… not stiff, but attentive. The way Solape hovered close without realizing it.

His daughter had yielded to this man. It was obvious even in body language. He was scared, but at the same time, he was happy.

“And what exactly does him do with my daughter?” her father asked mildly.

Solape groaned. “Daddy, please.”

Korede didn’t flinch.

“I take her seriously, sir,” he said.

Her father’s eyes sharpened—not unkindly, but alert. “That wasn’t the question.”

Solape shot Korede a look that said you don’t have to answer that. She set the table.

He pulled out her chair. Watched her sit. Then sat himself

Then he answered the question.

“I enjoy her company,” Korede continued. “I listen to her. I learn from her. And I try to be intentional with her time.”

Her father hummed. “That’s a good speech.” as he dug into his food.

“It’s not a speech, sir.”

“No?” Her father smiled. “Good. Because speeches don’t last.”

Solape placed her fork down on her plate a little harder than necessary. “Can I just say—this was supposed to be our date Daddy. We turned back to spend the evening with you.”

Her father looked at her. “Yes. I gathered that when you kissed me goodbye like a teenager. Thank you for the consideration. Dating a man for months and keeping him from your Father.”

She groaned louder. “Why are you like this?”

“Because I am your father.”

He turned back to Korede. “How old are you?”

“31 sir. Old enough to know better,” Korede said lightly. “Young enough to still be learning.”

Her father chuckled. “Careful. That was almost charming.”

“Dad.”

“I’m not being difficult,” her father said, holding up a hand. “I’m being thorough.”

Solape folded her arms. “About what?”

“About the man who thinks he can walk into my house, date my daughter, quote scripture, support Manchester United, and leave without being vetted.”

Korede laughed. “That’s fair, sir.”

Her father studied him for a long moment, then asked quietly, “Do you pray with her?”

Solape froze.

Korede didn’t.

“Yes, sir,” he said. “And I pray for her. Even when she’s not with me.”

Her father nodded slowly. “Good. This was a good meal, Oluwasolamipe. Thank you.”

She stood to clear the table. Korede moved with her dad into the living room.

Her father settled deeper into his chair instead, fingers laced, eyes now fully on Korede.

“So,” he said, not unkindly, “you seem intentional.”

Korede nodded once. “I try to be. Especially with things that matter.”

“And my daughter?” her father asked evenly.

Korede didn’t hesitate. “She matters.”

That answer came too quickly to be rehearsed.

Her father studied him for a moment. Let the silence do its work.

“Do you love her?” He asked,

Korede paused, “I will like to tell her that first sir.”

“So Yes.” He said, “You know she’s strong-willed, And not always easy.”

Korede smiled faintly. “I’ve noticed.”

“And?”

“I admire it,” Korede replied simply. “I don’t want to quiet her.”

That did it.

Her father leaned back, the line of his mouth softening just slightly.

“Most men say they like strong-willed women,” he said. “Until the strength is inconvenient.”

Korede nodded. “That’s usually where the work begins.”

A beat.

“And when the fire turns toward you?” her father pressed. “When she challenges you?”

“I listen,” Korede said. “And when I don’t understand, I ask. Sometimes, I get angry, but I understand she never means ill.”

Her father’s eyes sharpened. “Hmmmm…You’re a pastor, so you are used to people listening to you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you listen as well as you speak?”

Korede met his gaze steadily. “I try to. Especially at home.”

Another pause.

“She’s not fragile,” her father said. “But she has carried grief longer than she should have had to. I leaned on her too much. ”

“I know,” Korede said quietly.

“And?”

“And I don’t take that lightly.”

Her father nodded once. Then again.

“When you leave this house,” he said, voice low now, “you don’t just walk away from a woman you love. You walk away from a history you didn’t live, but will have to respect.”

Korede absorbed that fully.

“I understand, sir.”

Solape joined them then, sat on the arm of the chair Korede was sitting on. The conversation shifted around them… to more casual things.

When Korede finally stood to leave, her father rose with him and walked him to the door.

At the threshold, he stopped, held his eyes for a moment longer, then stepped back.

“Good night, Pastor.”

“Good night, sir.”

Solape watched them part, unaware of everything that had just been exchanged on her behalf.

And when she walked PK to the door moments later, she had no idea that something fundamental had already been decided.

*******************

Outside, the night air felt different.

Solape exhaled. “You passed.”

Korede smiled. “Barely.”

She shook her head. “Thank you. For that.”

“For what?”

“For standing your ground with my Father and still being respectful.”

He looked at her then, something open in his expression.

“Thank you for letting me meet him.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. “For suggesting we come back.”

They stood there a beat too long, the space between them shifted… subtle, electric.

Korede exhaled slowly.

“Solape,” he said, voice lower now, more deliberate.

She lifted her eyes to his.

“I love you,” he said.

The words didn’t rush out. They arrived steady. Certain. Like he had known them for a while and finally decided to let them live outside his chest.

Her breath stilled.

She had imagined this moment.

“I love you,” she said softly.

Something in him settled then.

She lifted her eyes to his. She could see his intent in his eyes. As well as heat, carefully banked. She saw in his eyes, the restraint of a man used to holding his emotions at bay.

He reached up slowly, deliberately, his hand coming to rest at her jaw. Not gripping. Just holding. His thumb brushed lightly against her cheek, grounding himself as much as her. He could see her consent in her eyes. But he would ask still. This was important. He wanted it to be given, not taken.

He leaned in just enough for her to feel the question before she heard it.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

Her breath caught. Not because she didn’t know what was about to happen, but because the question made it weighty. Important.

She hesitated. Not because she was unsure…but because she had been wondering when this would happen, how it would feel, whether it would be gentle or consuming or something in between.

Korede watched the hesitation closely.

Not anxiously. Attentively.

He was aware of his own body in a way he rarely allowed himself to be—of the steadiness he was holding onto deliberately, of the heat already present but contained. He had wanted to kiss her for a while now. Had known the wanting. Had carried it without resentment.

This mattered. She mattered.

She nodded. “Yes.”

That was all he needed.

He tilted her face up slightly—just enough that she had to lean in.

Stay here, he thought. With me.

Then he kissed her.

Slow.
Deliberate.

Like he was placing something precious exactly where it belonged.

The first contact was soft, but the awareness was immediate. He felt the response in her… the slight intake of breath, the way her body answered before her mind could intervene… and it took everything in him not to deepen the kiss too quickly.

He wanted her.

But more than that, he wanted her safe with him.

The heat surprised her… not sharp, not overwhelming, but deep. The kind that spread rather than struck. It started from her chest and pooled at her stomach. She reacted. Her hand found his jacket without thinking, fingers curling there, anchoring herself in the moment she had imagined more than once.

So this is it, she thought distantly.This is how it feels.

He felt it too.

Felt it in the way her hand found his jacket, fingers curling there. That small, instinctive reach did something to him—something warm and dangerous and grounding all at once.

Easy, he told himself. Don’t rush what you want to keep.

He stayed measured. He didn’t press, didn’t take more than she offered, didn’t let the moment tip into hunger unchecked. And yet the restraint wasn’t cold… it was charged. Alive.

She was on fire. Burning. And yet she felt the restraint in him…the way he stayed present, not pushing. That, more than anything, made her heart thud harder against her ribs.

This is enough, he thought. This is exactly enough.

He pulled back, not because the moment had thinned… but because he knew if he stayed a second longer, it would become something else.

She rested her forehead against his, breath uneven, a small laugh escaping her before she could stop it.

“Well,” she murmured. “That happened.”

He smiled. Slow. Unmistakably affected. Eyes darker than before.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “It did.”

He didn’t move right away.

Neither did she.

She stayed there, eyes closed for a second, letting it settle. She had wondered about this kiss—about whether it would feel awkward, or holy, or dangerous.

It felt… right.

When she opened her eyes again, he was still watching her with the same calm attention, as though nothing about her response had startled him.

They stood there a moment longer before parting.

And as she walked back toward the house, she realized something quietly, unmistakably true:

She hadn’t just been kissed.

She had been chosen—carefully.

PK’s P.O.V (Mini):

He didn’t drive off immediately.

The car door closed, the engine still quiet, the street unusually still. He rested his hands on the steering wheel and exhaled—slow, deliberate—like someone reminding himself where he was.

I love you.

The words replayed themselves without noise. Without panic. They hadn’t startled him. That was the surprising part.

He had known, in pieces. In decisions. In restraint. In how easily her presence reordered his priorities.

But saying it, out loud, had shifted something from intention to truth.

He leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes.

Her face came back to him first. The way she’d looked up at him. The way she’d said it back. Without fear.

That steadiness did something to him.

This is what I’ve been guarding, he thought. Not desire. Direction.

The kiss lingered in his body, not as hunger, but as warmth. As confirmation. He was aware, acutely, of how easily it could have tipped further. How natural it would have been.

And how grateful he was that it hadn’t.

He smiled to himself, a quiet, private thing.

“Thank you,” he murmured… not sure whether he was speaking to God, to discipline, or to the man he was still becoming.

He started the car, pulled into the road, and drove home lighter than he’d arrived.

Solape’s P.O.V:

She barely made it to her room before her phone was in her hand.

Solape dropped onto her bed, kicked off her shoes, and typed.

SOLAPE: BREAKING NEWS!!!.

The group chat was already alive.

NJ: ???
MIRIAM: ????

SOLAPE: Okay but can I just say… tonight was UNEXPECTED.

The typing bubbles appeared immediately.

NJ: What is the news?
MIRIAM: Give us Details!!! Did you guys Kiss!!!

She laughed out loud, pressed her face into her pillow for a second, then sat up.

SOLAPE: He met my father.

Silence.

Then—

NJ: Okay?
MIRIAM: Awesome. How was it?

SOLAPE: Like… properly. Sat down. Theology. Sports. Banter. Vetting. All of it.

Her phone rang before she could finish typing.

Video call. Both of them.

She answered.

“You were typing too slowly…” NJ said .
“Start from the beginning,” Miriam said, already settling in.

Solape grinned. “Okay so…first of all…he suggested it. I mentioned my dad and he was like, ‘Let’s go back.’ I almost passed out.”

“Of course he did,” NJ said. “Pastor manners.”

“And?” Miriam prompted.

“And my dad liked him,” Solape said softly. “Like… actually liked him.”

They both squealed.

“WAIT WAIT WAIT,” NJ said. “Did he kiss you?”

Solape paused.

Smiled.

“Yes.”

The scream that followed was unholy.

“How?” Miriam demanded.

“Slow,” Solape said. “Intentional. He asked. Like… actually asked.”

Both of them groaned.

“WHY ARE MEN NOT REAL?” NJ cried.

Solape laughed, hugging a pillow to her chest.

“And,” she added, quieter now, “we said I love you.”

That changed the energy.

Miriam’s voice softened. “Oh.”

NJ blinked. “Oh wow.”

Solape nodded. “Yeah.”

“How do you feel?” Miriam asked gently.

Solape thought for a moment.

“Chosen,” she said. “Not rushed. Not confused. Just… sure.”

They smiled at her through the screen, knowing.

“Okay,” NJ said finally. “I like this man.”

“So do I,” Solape replied.

When the call ended, she lay back and stared at the ceiling, her chest warm, her mind oddly calm.

She touched her lips once, smiling to herself.

So this is how it begins, she thought.

Not loudly.

But with intention.

---

Author’s Note: Did you hear Muahh? Yes, you did.🤣😂🤣

First kiss and Love confession, Love it for PK and Solape.😁

To Catch up: Read Chapter one here, Chapter two here, Chapter three here, Chapter Four here, and Chapter Five here, Chapter Six here, Chapter Seven here, Chapter Eight here, Chapter Nine here, Chapter Ten here, Chapter Eleven here, and Chapter Twelve here.

See you next week.❤️