Heart Fire.

Chapter Seven: Unholy Chemistry.

My Strong Community! Una too much. Is today not Monday, how are you people online?😂

Oya oo, Iyaloja of Fields has delivered. Here is your Chapter Seven and see you next week.

Engage on this chapter like you did for chapter six oo.😏

---

Solape’s P.O.V:

She was just removing her earrings when her phone rang.

Caller ID - PK
Her heart leapt in her chest, but she let it ring once more before picking.

“Hello?”

His voice was warm. Measured. Too collected for 10:13 p.m.

“Hi, Solape. It’s Korede.”
Then, almost immediately, he added—“PK.”

She smiled, although no one asked her to.

“Hi PK”

“I, um…” There was a tiny pause, like he was arranging the sentence before releasing it. “I wanted to check if you got home safely.”

Her smile widened.

“Yes, Pastor. I didn’t fall into any gutter.”

A soft exhale… not quite a laugh, but close.

“Okay. Good. I just… wanted to confirm.”

Silence sat for a second.

“Alright,” he said gently. “Goodnight, Solape.”

“Goodnight.”

The line clicked.

And she just stood there for a moment, earrings still in her hand, wondering why a simple call made her feel warm.

PK’s P.O.V (Mini):

He ended the call and immediately pressed the phone to his forehead.

Why did his heart sound like generator noise?

What kind of pastor calls a woman at 10 p.m. just to check “if she got home safe”?

He muttered, “This is definitely not pastoral care. Boundaries, Korede… boundaries.”

But he also slept with a small smile.

Solape’s P.O.V (Mini):

The next morning, she woke up with no expectation.

Until 10:02 a.m.

Her phone buzzed.

PK:
“Good morning, Solape. I’m finalizing Sunday’s outline and you are kind of the inspiration so I wanted to give you a heads up. How’s your morning going?”

She stared at the message.

Sunday outline?
What did she do or say that got her into Sunday’s outline?

Solape:
“Good Morning PK. My morning is good. Shooting a recipe video. What did I do now?”

His reply came quickly. But it was a voice note.

“Oh… nothing. Remember when I said God doesn’t call you to stop being yourself, just offer yourself… and you responded with even the chaotic parts? Well, by the grace of God, I hope this sermon can answer that.”

Solape was touched. He remembered. He kept it in his mind.

Well, he is a Pastor. That is kind of his job…

Even though upon still…

Solape:
“Thank you. I can’t wait for the sermon. Let me check on my puff-puff before it burns.”

PK:
“You are welcome. I’ll pray for the puff-puff.”

She laughed aloud.

Solape:
“Do pastors pray for pastries?”

PK:
“For you? Yes.”

Her hands went still.

Oh.

He followed it with a voice note, eight seconds of warmth:

“Just ignore me if I’m doing too much. Long day ahead but I wanted to check in.”

Her heartbeat did something inconvenient.

PK’s P.O.V (Mini):

He looked at his own message and groaned.

“Why did I say for you, yes??”

He paced the office.

“This is normal human conversation. Nothing more. Calm down. Calm down.”

But when she replied with a smiling meme and said, “have a good day,” his spirit steadied.

Time to focus Korede, let’s get to work.

Solape’s P.O.V:

The day went by quickly for Solape, except for one hiccup: every instance her phone beeped, she looked at the notification hoping it was him. Yes o. HIM.

She didn’t want to send him a message. What would she say? It’s not like he could inspire her cooking.

She picked up her phone and started scrolling through instagram to distract herself, then it hit her! She could send him a reel!

So began the search for the perfect reel that will elicit a response from him. She even asked chatGPT, “What kind of reel should I send to my Pastor that will make him respond to my message.”

The bot replied something ridiculous like:

“Try a reel about biblical humour or wholesome content that reinforces spiritual camaraderie.”

She hissed.

“Which one is spiritual camaraderie abeg? I need something funny but not too funny… spiritual but not ‘repent now’… playful but not flirting…”

She scrolled.

Rejected Reel #1:
A woman shouting “Holy Ghost fire!” because her amala fell on the floor.
Too chaotic.

Rejected Reel #2:
A pastor doing praise break with gym weights.
Too unserious.

Rejected Reel #3:
A choir singing off-key and the caption said “When your gift is also your cross.”
Too disrespectful.

She sighed.
“God of Abraham, Isaac and Reels… lead me.”

Then… finally… she found it.

A short clip of a man reading his Bible dramatically on the bus, nodding aggressively, then looking up and saying:

“Omo, this revelation choke!”

Caption: “When your pastor says something so deep you start rethinking your entire life.”

Perfect.

Funny.
Church-adjacent.
Not flirty.
Not reckless.

She forwarded it to him.

Five seconds.
No reply.

Thirty seconds.
Still nothing.

One minute.
Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe it wasn’t that funny. Maybe pastors don’t watch reels

Her phone buzzed.

PK:
“This is absolutely you.”

She frowned-laughed.

Solape:
“Me how?”

Then a voice note came through, with a smile she could hear.

“The dramatic way you sit up when revelation hits… the sudden nodding like your spirit is connecting dots… the way you look up when something clicks. This reel screams your energy. 100%.”

Her mouth opened.

Oh. He’s observant.

He followed it up with a plain text:

PK:
“Thank you. It made me laugh.”

She exhaled. Actually exhaled.

Solape:
“Good. So you’re human after all.”

PK:
“Debatable.”

She grinned like a mad person.

PK’s P.O.V (Mini):

He shouldn’t have replied that fast.
Or that honestly.
Or with that voice note that basically exposed how much he noticed her.

But he couldn’t help it.

He read through the message again, shaking his head.

“This girl…,” he murmured.

She had sent a gif of someone fanning themselves dramatically.

Then:

Solape:
“Don’t let me distract you from Sunday outline o.”

He typed back before thinking:

PK:
“Too late.”

He froze.

Too far?

But instead of panic, her reply arrived:

Solape:
“Oya focus, man of God.”

He smiled so hard he had to drop the phone.

Solape’s P.O.V (Mini):

The reel opened the door.

The talking stage didn’t “start”… It seeped in..

Monday — 4:11 p.m.
PK sent her a sermon clip.

PK:
“This made me think of what you said… about shrinking.”

Solape:
“Ah! Pastor, I just finished editing a stew video. PLEASE don’t send me something that will make me cry.”

PK:
“It won’t. It’s just… encouragement.”

It was only 45 seconds. But she watched it twice.

“God does not reduce your fire; He refines it.”

She texted him a simple:
“Thank you.”

That night she caught herself smiling at the air.
For no reason.
Okay, for one reason.

PK’s P.O.V:

He tried to behave.

Focus on sermons.
Focus on counseling. Focus on logistics for midweek service.

But then she sent him a TikTok of a woman yelling: “Holy Spirit, shift my atmosphere or shift the human being causing the atmosphere!”

He choked on his tea.

PK:
“You’re unserious.”

Solape:
“And yet you’re laughing.”

Touché.

He sent her a 5-second voice note:

“I’m not sure this is the kind of content iron is supposed to sharpen iron with.”

Her laughter came back in audio form… bright, unfiltered, warm.

And that was his downfall.

Solape’s P.O.V:

On Tuesday…

They Get Comfortable

Memes. Reels. Short prayers. Random thoughts.

She sent him a Substack article titled:
“The Myth of the Perfect Christian Woman.”

He replied with:

PK:
“Reading this made me uncomfortable in a good way.”

She sent laughing emojis.

Solape:
“Maybe you’ll do a sermon on it.”

PK:
“Maybe.”
Then…
“Do you ever write?”

She blinked at her phone.

Solape:
“I write recipes.”

PK:
“No. I mean words. Thoughts. Essays.”

Her stomach flipped.

Solape:
“Why?”

PK:
“You think deeply. It shows in your captions. And the way you talk.”

She didn’t know what to do with the compliment… so she sent him another meme.

On Wednesday….

They talked about platforms.

He admitted that he wrote code on the side. And was thinking of starting a YouTube channel for short teachings.

Solape:
“Ah! Let’s go!”

PK:
“I didn’t say I was ready.”

Solape:
“I have 200k subscribers. I’m literally a resource. Use me.”

He laughed.

She guided him through branding, lighting, editing workflow. She sent a detailed voice note — ideas for how his sermons could translate to short-form videos…

Lighting…
Captions…
Messaging…
Hooks…
Edits…

He listened twice.

Then a third time.

Something tugged in him… admiration, softness, fear, longing, all mixed up.

This was dangerous territory.

But he couldn’t stop.

She ended with:

Solape:
“Don’t give the internet 1 hour videos. Give them 15-20 minutes that slap so hard, they keep coming back for more”

He replied with a voice note that made her toes curl:

“Slap? Really? This is your discipleship strategy?”

“Yes.”

“Noted.”

She played the voice note twice.

On Thursday…

Their chats were normal all morning.

Until she sent him a funny clip and he replied with:

PK:
“I needed that.”

Solape:
“Long day?”

He sent a slower, softer voice note:

“Yes. But this helped. Thank you.”

Something about the sincerity got to her. She typed, erased, typed again.

Solape:
“You’re welcome.”

Short. Safe.

Still, her pulse didn’t agree.

By evening, they had talked through: food, theology, new Lagos roads, worship playlists, her favourite fried rice hack, his favourite childhood cartoon… and why he hates mangoes (“texture issues,” he said dramatically)

Everything was varied, yet everything flowed.

Then:

PK:
“Alright, let me let you rest.”

Solape:
“Let YOU rest. You’ve been at church all day.”

PK:
“Occupational hazard.”

Solape:
“Mhm. Go and sleep, pastor.”

PK:
“Goodnight, Solape.”

She typed… then erased… then typed again.

Solape:
“Goodnight PK.”

She turned off her phone and stared at the ceiling.

This felt like something.
But he hadn’t said anything direct.
He hadn’t hinted at anything serious.
He was still… pastor-ish. Careful.

She didn’t want to misread signals.

Not again. Not with him.

PK’s P.O.V:

He scrolled through their messages again.

Twice.

And whispered:

“Lord, if I’m being foolish, please stop me. If I’m not… guide me.”

He didn’t have clarity yet.

But he had a feeling.

A feeling he would pretend he didn’t understand…He told himself he was just being friendly.

Casual.
Normal.
Available-but-not-too-available.

But her messages made him laugh. Really laugh.

She teased him about his tea choices.
He teased her about her dramatic captions.
They exchanged short voice notes… light, harmless, soft.

It felt… human.

He liked her voice.
Unfiltered.
Animated.
Bright.

And he found himself waiting for her replies in ways he refused to admit.

---

On Friday…

At 9:15 p.m., he sent:

PK:
“Final edits for Sunday. You ready?”

Solape:
“Should I bring my notebook?”

PK:
“Bring your whole chest.”

She typed: “Wow.”

He replied with a laughing emoji and then a quick voice note:

“I meant it will be an intense sermon. Don’t mind me.”

He told himself he was fine. Totally fine.

But he kept reading her replies again. And again.

He realised something quietly:

He liked… her

He liked how she joked.
How she spoke.
How she softened at night and brightened in the morning.

He liked… her.

A little too much. A little too early.

He prayed about it. And then he went to sleep.

Solape’s P.O.V:

She picked out her clothes with care. She liked to look good on a normal day. There was nothing to it. PK was not hovering at the back of her mind.

But today, you are taking extra care, even for you.

She finally settled on a Red wrap dress. Her Father said it made her look elegant and beautiful. She wore pearls, donned her wig and put on 6-inch black pumps on her feet.

“A beautifully dressed woman is a confident woman. No shaking.” She said aloud to the mirror

But… when she walked into church with NJ and Miriam, and she saw him in front where pastors usually sat, her stomach fluttered.

Tall. Calm. He was giving confident-energy. And my God, he was fine. She shook her head as if to clear the unholy thoughts. She tried to avert her eyes and focus on the worship.

She succeeded because the choir was so good

Then the sermon began, and she realised instantly. He wasn’t joking. He had meant it.

Grace & Identity.
Holy Spirit & Temperament.
“Fire Under Guidance.”

His voice was steady, warm, sure. The kind of voice that wrapped itself around every corner of the room.

“Listen,” he began, “nothing about you is an accident. Not your past. Not your pain. Not your personality.”

His tone wasn’t loud. Just… certain.

“When God formed you in your mother’s womb, Scripture says He knit you. Knit. Intentionally. Thread by thread. Psalm 139 isn’t just poetry, it’s the secret of your creation. He knew your temperament. He knew your wiring. He knew your edges. He knew your softness.”

Solape felt the words land in her chest.

“Moses was angry. Gideon was timid. Peter talked too much. Paul talked too sharply.

Esther was quiet until she wasn’t. Elijah felt everything deeply.

John was tender.

James and John? Hotheads… that Jesus still called Sons of Thunder.”

A soft ripple of laughter moved through the hall.

“Every personality can be a weapon when the Spirit holds the handle.”

He took a breath.

“God is not confused about the kind of fire He put inside you. He’s only asking you to bring it to Him so He can aim it.”

Her heart thudded.

“So maybe you think you’re chaotic… maybe you think you’re too loud… maybe you think you feel too much, break too easily, shine too brightly, take up too much space… but hear me; your Creator factored all of that into your calling.”

Her hands trembled slightly where they rested on her lap.

“Fire becomes dangerous only when it’s directionless. Under the Spirit’s guidance, that same fire becomes purpose. Refining. Leading. Lighting the way for others.”

Then came the line that hit her like a direct arrow—

“The world must have called you chaotic. But you’re just unbridled fire. And fire, under the Spirit, becomes purpose.”

Her breath caught.

And she could swear—just for a fraction of a second—he looked right at her.

Her chest warmed painfully.

PK’s P.O.V:

From where he stood on the stage, Korede gripped the sides of the pulpit a little tighter than usual.

He could feel her presence long before he let himself look. A bright red wrap dress. Pearls. Fire disguised as elegance.

Focus, Korede.
Preach your message.
Face the middle.
Not the left aisle. Definitely not the third row where she’s sitting.

He cleared his throat once… quiet, controlled.

His eyes skimmed across the congregation, deliberately avoiding the corner of the room they were pulled toward.

“Nothing about your wiring surprised God,” he continued, voice even.
“He factored all of it into His plan for you.”

Don’t look.
Don’t look.
Don’t—

A movement caught the corner of his eye. Her laugh earlier had already been dangerous.
Now she was still, watching him with her whole face, the way only earnest people listen.

He dragged his gaze upward, over her head, toward the lights.

Stay disciplined, Korede.
You’re a pastor. You’re meant to shepherd—not… whatever this is.

But the more he tried to avoid her, the more the sermon kept circling back to the very words she needed.

And he knew it. He felt it.

“Every personality can be a weapon,” he said, “when the Spirit holds the handle.”

His heart thudded. This was ridiculous.

Once. Just once. Let me look.

His resolve slipped for a fleeting second.

His eyes flicked down… quickly, instinctively… and found hers.

She wasn’t blinking. And something like recognition… or softness… or fire… moved between them.

He looked away immediately. Too fast. Too obvious.

Lord, …Abeg. Help your son.

He steadied himself again, exhaled deeply, and anchored his gaze to the middle row where a teenager was half-asleep.

“The world must have called you chaotic,” he said quietly.

Don’t look again.

“But you’re just unbridled fire.”

Stop it, Korede.

“And fire, under the Spirit…”

Just preach. Don’t—

He glanced again.

He couldn’t help it.

Her eyes widened slightly, as if she knew.
As if she heard something meant only for her.

He tore his gaze away before anyone else noticed.

Focus. Finish this sermon. Repent later.

Solape’s P.O.V:

AFTER SERVICE

The courtyard was buzzing.

She was trying to act normal, but her friends were hyenas.

Miriam grinned. NJ nudged her. Ladi was standing with them drinking Coke.

Then she heard the familiar voice:

“Hi, Solape.”

She turned.

PK.

Everything inside her stopped.

“Great job today,” she said, too brightly.

He smiled.

And the girls noticed EVERYTHING.

“Thank you,” he said. “I hope it answered your question from the Five Sundays In lunch.”

She swallowed. “It did.”

Silence stretched.
Soft. Warm. Dangerous.

Then Ladi coughed loudly. “PK, Wassup.”

PK dragged his eyes away. “I’m good Ladi.” He answered, then he greeted the girls, “Miriam. NJ. Good afternoon.”

The girls chorused mischievously: “Good afternoon, Pastor.”

He left a moment later… too quickly.

And the girls attacked immediately.

NJ: “Ah. You could cut the tension with a knife.”
Miriam: “Do you people know the eye contact we just witnessed?”
Ladi: “I didn’t know Pastors could do chemistry.”

Solape hissed, “Will you all calm down?!”

They did NOT calm down.

---

Group chat exploded before she got home.

GROUP CHAT — Order, Peace & Solape.🔥

THE GROUP CHAT WAS SCREAMING!!!

Miriam:
SOLAPE! Come out! Professor, Let’s table her matter. She has been hiding gist from us.

NJ:
My dear Miriam…
Ladi said, the PASTOR is holy, Solape is holy
But their chemistry??
DEFINITELY NOT.

Miriam:
O Chim!

Solape:
Please.
You people should rest.

Miriam:
No, you rest. You worked hard today by almost MELTING in public.

NJ:
When he said “fire under Spirit control”
…
You BLUSHED.
You turned purple.

Solape:
I did not! It was the sermon. Relax.

Miriam:
Don’t play with us.
That man looked at you like your destiny is tied to his destiny.
Oya give us the gist.

Solape:
Okay fine.
I’ll confess.
We’ve been talking.
We chatted every day this week.

NJ:
I’M SCREAMING!!!

Miriam:
WHATTTTTTTTT?
Everyday this week??
Screenshot it and send it to us.
NOW!

Solape:
I will NOT.
What is wrong with both of you??

NJ:
Wow.
She’s protecting him.
PASTOR BOO: ACTIVATED.

Solape:
Calm DOWN.
We are just talking.
He is my pastor.
Relax.

Miriam:
Pastor today… Husband tomorrow.
Open your eyes.

NJ:
Honestly, babe, I think he’s perfect for you.

Solape:
NJ even You. I expected this from Miriam, but not you.

NJ:
Well, the evidence is overwhelming.

Miriam:
Tell us more jare.
What does he say?
Does he check on you?

Solape:
Well…
…he checks on my day.

NJ:
He’s checking your DAY now??
Ohhhh you people are TALKING-talking.

Miriam:
Sis.
If a man asks “how was your day?”
That’s STAGE TWO OF INTEREST.
Next stage is “have you eaten?”

NJ:
Knowing Solape, it’s been a week… they are way past food. Have you offered to arrange his life yet?

Miriam:

Yes o! If she has done that… Solape, confess… have you created a timetable for his sermons or his content or something that has to do with organising?

Solape did not reply immediately. She knew she was caught. At that point, Her screen lit up.

A DM From Dele: Hey chef, can I show you how Naija Tapas runs behind the scenes?
Slow day tomorrow. Come if you’re free.

She blinked.

Oh.

She wasn’t thinking “date.” She wasn’t even thinking romance.

It was FOOD. She was a food person. Being invited into a kitchen was like being invited into work.

She typed back: Sure. Sounds fun.

She returned to the chat.

Solape:
Sorry, I got distracted—Dele just sent me a dm. He invited me to Naija Tapas to check out the place.

NJ:
AH-HA.
DATE.

Solape:
It’s not a date.

Miriam:
I don’t think you should go.
Free food is STILL a date if somebody is looking at you with romantic intention.

Solape:
Nobody is looking at anybody with romantic intention.
Please.

NJ:
I think he is.
And I don’t think you should go…
Because of PK.

Solape:
There is NOTHING between PK and I !!!
We’re just talking.
This thing with Dele… It’s work.
I’m going to see a restaurant.
Relax.

Miriam:
Okay o.
Whatever you say.

Solape:
Let me go and pick an outfit for tomorrow.

As she walked to her wardrobe, she felt it:

A tiny flutter.

She shut it down immediately.

PK was PK.
Dele was Dele.
Naija Tapas was work.

She was not thinking romance.

Right?

…Right.

Later, as she lay on her bed staring at the ceiling… he came to her mind again. Yes. HIM.

Her phone sat beside her. Tempting her. Daring her.

Finally she typed:

Solape → PK:
“Thank you again for today. The sermon… landed. Grateful.”

He responded almost immediately:

PK:
“I’m glad it helped.
Have a restful night, Solape.”

Her stomach turned.

She stared at the screen long after it dimmed.

Hmmm Yeah. The girls were right. This was not friendship… But it was not courting either.

It was something in between.

Something humming.
Something warm.
Something waiting.

And just before sleep took her, she whispered to herself:

“I’m in so much trouble.”

---

Author’s Note: The unholy chemistry brewing between Solape and PK….. Now, they are playing with Fire. lool.

What do you think? Was Solape right to go on a date with Dele, or should she have waited, given that PK hasn’t stated his intentions?

Catch Up: Read Chapter one here, Chapter two here, Chapter three here, Chapter Four here, Chapter Five here, and Chapter Six here

See you next week.❤️