The Pastor’s Daughter: A Forbidden Nigerian Love
What begins as innocent glances soon spirals into a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and betrayal, pitting Jasmine’s heart against her family’s faith and reputation. As whispers spread and the church turns into a battlefield, Jasmine and Samuel must choose between surrendering to duty or risking everything for forbidden love.
This nine-chapter tale isn’t just about romance—it’s about rebellion, heartbreak, and the price of choosing desire in a world that demands obedience.
Index
Chapter One – The Pastor’s Princess
The Sunday sun spilled golden light across Lagos, bouncing off the tinted glass of Christ the Rock Evangelical Church. Worshippers streamed in, their voices buzzing like bees. The women in brightly colored Ankara swayed their hips with elegance, while the men in agbadas and tailored suits greeted one another with firm handshakes and the occasional “Bless you, brother.”
At the center of it all was Pastor Rufus Adeyemi, tall, stern-faced, and commanding, with a booming voice that carried both authority and grace. To the members, he was not just a pastor; he was a father, a prophet, and a protector. His words were law, his opinions unquestioned. By his side was his wife, Deaconess Toluwani, known for her fiery prayers and piercing eyes that seemed to see through the hearts of men.
And then there was Jasmine.
Everyone in the congregation knew her as Daddy’s jewel. She was twenty-two, beautiful in a way that made heads turn—her almond-shaped eyes sparkled like dew on hibiscus petals, her skin glowed a soft caramel, and her laughter had a sweetness that melted even the sternest of hearts. But it wasn’t just her beauty; it was the air of innocence she carried. To the church, she was untouchable, the future wife of a God-fearing man chosen by heaven itself.
Jasmine, however, did not always feel like a jewel. Sometimes, she felt like a caged bird—sheltered, watched, expected to shine without faltering. Her parents’ love was firm but heavy. Every suitor who came her way was dismissed. Her father often said:
“My daughter will never marry just anybody. Only a man who loves God more than life itself deserves her.”
And so, Jasmine smiled, nodded, and obeyed, though deep down, she wondered if her heart would ever be free to choose.
That morning, as the choir raised a soulful hymn, Jasmine sat in her usual seat in the front row, her Bible neatly tucked under her arm. Her best friend, Amaka, leaned over and whispered, “Babe, I heard there’s one fine boy in church today. A first-timer. Lagos big boy vibes.”
Jasmine shot her a warning look. “Abeg, keep quiet. If Mummy hears you talking like that during service, you’ll end up in the prayer room for deliverance.”
They giggled softly, but Jasmine’s laughter froze when her eyes drifted across the hall—and locked on a stranger.
He was leaning casually against the pillar at the back, tall, dark-skinned, and strikingly handsome. His fitted shirt clung to his well-built frame, and his wristwatch gleamed under the church lights. But it was his eyes—bold, mischievous, and full of secrets—that caught her off guard. For a moment, the noise of the church faded. He stared back, a slow smirk tugging at his lips, as though he already knew the effect he had on her.
Samuel.
If Lagos had a reputation for playboys, Samuel was the poster boy. From the bustling clubs of Victoria Island to the high-end lounges of Lekki, he was known for breaking hearts as easily as snapping fingers. Women loved him, men envied him, and he lived for the thrill. Church was never his scene. But that Sunday, dragged by his cousin Ayo, Samuel had stepped into Christ the Rock Evangelical Church—and straight into Jasmine’s world.
The hymn ended, and Pastor Rufus mounted the pulpit, his booming voice commanding silence. Jasmine tried to focus, but she could
Chapter Two – The Playboy of Lagos
Samuel Ajayi was trouble wrapped in fine skin.
In Lagos, his name traveled faster than gossip. At twenty-seven, he had tasted the city’s thrills in excess—fast cars, late nights, and women who fell at his feet with little effort. His charm was magnetic, his confidence intimidating, and his pocket always jingled with money from a tech start-up he ran with his cousin Ayo. But beneath the flashy watch, the easy smiles, and the reckless laughter, Samuel carried a restlessness he never admitted to anyone.
He wasn’t in church to find God that morning. He was only there because Ayo, a devoted usher, had been pestering him for weeks.
“Bro, just come once. God fit touch you, who knows?”
Samuel had laughed, draining his glass of Hennessy.
“Touch me ke? Ayo, God doesn’t have my time. But okay, for your sake, I’ll show face one Sunday.”
And so here he was, leaning against a pillar, half-listening to the booming sermon of Pastor Rufus while scanning the hall like a hunter. The ladies in church stole glances at him, whispering behind their fans, but Samuel’s eyes had already locked onto something far more captivating.
Jasmine.
There she was in the front row, sitting upright beside her mother like a porcelain doll, delicate yet radiant. The way her hair framed her face, the calm way she flipped through her Bible, even the tiny frown she wore while pretending not to notice him—it all intrigued Samuel. She wasn’t like the Lagos girls he knew, the ones who threw themselves at him in nightclubs. There was a stillness about her, a quiet elegance that made him want to break through her walls.
After service, the congregation bustled with greetings and handshakes. Samuel slipped his hands into his pockets, watching Jasmine as she hugged Amaka and chatted with the choir members. He waited, patient like a lion stalking its prey, until her eyes flicked in his direction again. This time, he smiled—a slow, deliberate curve of his lips that sent a strange flutter through her chest.
“Who is that?” Deaconess Toluwani’s sharp voice cut through Jasmine’s thoughts. Her mother’s eyes narrowed as she followed her daughter’s line of sight. “Jesu! Jasmine, don’t tell me you’re looking at that boy. The spirit in him doesn’t look clean at all.”
Jasmine quickly shook her head. “No, Mummy. I wasn’t looking.” But her cheeks betrayed her with a blush.
Meanwhile, Ayo dragged Samuel toward the pastor to introduce him. “Sir, this is my cousin, Samuel Ajayi. He just moved back fully to Lagos. I’ve been begging him to join us.”
Pastor Rufus extended a firm handshake, his eyes studying Samuel like an x-ray machine. There was something about the young man he didn’t like—the arrogance in his stance, the careless confidence in his smile. Still, as a man of God, he masked his suspicion with a polite nod.
“You are welcome, young man. We hope this is not your last time.”
Samuel chuckled softly. “Thank you, sir. I might just surprise you.”
But while the pastor dismissed him with courtesy, Samuel’s eyes betrayed his real interest—they strayed back to Jasmine, who now avoided his gaze with every ounce of discipline she could muster.
As the crowd thinned out, Amaka nudged Jasmine with a sly grin.
“That’s the one I was telling you about, babe. Lagos big boy vibes. Ah, see as he’s fine. Don’t you like him?”
Jasmine’s heart thudded, but she forced a frown. “Amaka, abeg leave me. I don’t know him.”
Yet that night, lying on her bed, Jasmine found herself replaying the moment over and over—the way his eyes held hers, the smile that seemed to promise danger and delight in equal measure.
For the first time in her sheltered life, Jasmine felt the stirrings of forbidden curiosity.
And Samuel?
He knew he had found a challenge unlike any other.
Chapter Three – Sparks at the Crusade
Wednesday evening came quickly at Christ the Rock Evangelical Church. Midweek youth fellowship was smaller, more relaxed than Sunday service. The choir rehearsed at the corner, while clusters of young people chatted and laughed in low tones. Jasmine had come with Amaka, partly out of duty, partly because she genuinely loved the music.
She wore a simple lilac gown, her braids tied neatly behind her head. Her beauty wasn’t loud, but it glowed quietly, like candlelight in a dark room. She was adjusting hymn sheets when she felt it—eyes on her.
She looked up.
Samuel.
He leaned against the back pew, arms folded, his fitted black shirt hugging his frame. He wasn’t even pretending to blend in. His gaze was bold, steady, and unashamedly fixed on her. Jasmine quickly looked away, her heart fluttering against her will.
“Amaka,” she whispered nervously, “what is he doing here again?”
Amaka grinned. “Which he? Oh, you mean that fine boy? Babe, maybe God is trying to tell you something.”
“Don’t start,” Jasmine warned, though her cheeks warmed with color.
The fellowship began. They sang, prayed, and shared scriptures. Samuel stayed quiet at the back, watching more than participating. But when the closing prayers ended and people began to disperse, he made his move.
Jasmine was gathering her books when a shadow fell over her. She looked up and froze.
“Hi,” Samuel said, his voice smooth, laced with a confidence that came naturally to him.
Jasmine swallowed. “Hello.”
For a moment, silence hung between them. He studied her, noting the nervous way she clutched her Bible, the flicker in her eyes that betrayed both caution and curiosity.
“You’re Jasmine, right?” he asked, though he already knew.
“Yes,” she said softly. “And you’re… Samuel.”
He smiled, pleased that she remembered. “Your father’s sermon on Sunday was… powerful. But honestly, I think the highlight of the service was seeing you.”
Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“I’m serious,” Samuel continued, leaning slightly closer. “I’ve met a lot of women in this city, but there’s something about you. You don’t even have to try—you just… stand out.”
Jasmine’s pulse quickened. No one had ever spoken to her like this. The brothers in church always addressed her with stiff formality, weighed down by fear of her father. Samuel was different. His words were bold, reckless, and disarming.
She cleared her throat. “You shouldn’t say things like that to me. People might misunderstand.”
“Let them,” Samuel said with a shrug. “I don’t care what people think. I just say what I feel.”
Before Jasmine could respond, Amaka appeared, raising a brow. “Jasmine, are you ready to go?”
“Yes, let’s go,” Jasmine said quickly, grabbing her bag. She turned to Samuel, forcing politeness into her tone. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Samuel replied, his eyes lingering on her with a promise that made her stomach knot.
As Jasmine and Amaka walked toward the church gate, Amaka whispered, “Babe, that guy likes you. Did you see the way he was looking at you? Ah! Sparks are flying.”
Jasmine shook her head, though her heart thumped louder than her steps. “No, Amaka. He’s… not someone I should be talking to. My parents will never approve.”
Yet even as she said it, she found herself glancing back. Samuel was still there, standing under the dim church light, watching her leave with that same confident smile.
And for the first time, Jasmine wondered if she wanted to be the girl her parents had planned—or the girl her heart was daring her to become.
Chapter Four – Whispers in the Church
By the following Sunday, the church compound buzzed with gossip the way Lagos streets buzz on a Monday morning. Christ the Rock Evangelical Church was not just a place of worship; it was a community where secrets traveled faster than sermons. And lately, the whispers had a new subject: Jasmine and the stranger who couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“Have you noticed how that Samuel boy looks at Pastor’s daughter?” murmured Mama Esther, the oldest church elder and self-appointed chief of gossip.
“Ahn ahn, Mama Esther, I thought it was just me!” another woman replied, fanning herself dramatically. “Last Wednesday, during fellowship, the boy practically swallowed her with his eyes.”
“God forbid!” Mama Esther clicked her tongue. “Playboy spirit! I can discern it from afar. That boy is trouble, mark my words.”
Meanwhile, inside the church office, Deaconess Toluwani was already voicing her concerns.
“Rufus,” she said firmly, arms folded, “I don’t like that boy around Jasmine. I saw the way he lingered after service. His spirit is not clean. I feel it.”
Pastor Rufus rubbed his chin. He had noticed too. Samuel was polite, yes, but there was a cocky air about him that didn’t sit well. “Don’t worry,” he assured. “Jasmine knows better. She will not embarrass this family with nonsense.”
But unknown to them, Jasmine was already battling her heart.
That afternoon, as she walked out of choir practice with Amaka, a familiar figure leaned casually against the church fence—Samuel.
Her heart jumped. “What is he doing here again?” she muttered.
Amaka smirked. “Waiting for you, obviously.”
Before Jasmine could protest, Samuel approached, his smile easy and confident. “Hey, Jasmine. Can I walk you home?”
Jasmine stiffened. “No, thank you. My house is close by. I can manage.”
“Then let me just keep you company,” Samuel persisted, falling into step beside her as if it was the most natural thing.
Amaka excused herself with a mischievous grin, leaving Jasmine alone with him. The late afternoon sun bathed the streets of Yaba in a golden glow as the two walked side by side.
“Why are you doing this?” Jasmine finally asked, her voice tight.
“Doing what?” Samuel replied innocently.
“Following me around. Talking to me. Looking at me that way. Don’t you know who I am?”
Samuel chuckled. “Of course I know. You’re Jasmine Rufus, daughter of the most respected pastor in Lagos. The girl everyone admires but no one dares approach.” His tone softened. “But to me, you’re just… Jasmine.”
The way he said her name—slow, deliberate—made her breath hitch. No one had ever spoken to her like that, as if she wasn’t just her father’s daughter but her own person.
She looked away quickly. “You don’t understand. My parents would never allow this.”
“Then don’t tell them yet,” Samuel said with a sly grin. “Besides, I’m not asking for marriage. I’m just asking to know you.”
They reached the street that led to her home. Jasmine stopped, clutching her bag tightly. “You should go now. If my father sees you here…”
Samuel leaned closer, his voice low but playful. “If your father sees me here, then he’ll know I’m serious.”
Her heart raced. “You’re not serious. You’re a—”
“A what? A playboy?” he teased, finishing her thought. “Maybe. But something tells me you could change that.”
For a moment, their eyes locked, and Jasmine felt a dangerous warmth rush through her. She quickly stepped back.
“Goodnight, Samuel,” she said firmly, hurrying away.
Samuel watched her go, a smile tugging at his lips. He loved challenges, and Jasmine Rufus was shaping up to be the greatest one yet.
By the time Jasmine entered her home, Deaconess Toluwani was already waiting at the door, her eyes sharp.
“Who were you talking to outside?” she demanded.
Jasmine froze. “No one, Mummy. Just… Amaka.”
Toluwani studied her daughter for a long moment, then sighed heavily. “Jasmine, don’t let the devil distract you. Remember who you are.”
“Yes, Mummy,” Jasmine whispered. But as she went to her room, her heart betrayed her lips.
She was already distracted.
Chapter Five – The Forbidden Meetings
The week after their encounter outside the church felt unusually long for Jasmine. She tried to immerse herself in her daily routine—choir practice, helping her mother with household chores, attending prayer meetings—but Samuel’s face kept intruding on her thoughts.
Every time she remembered his smile, the confidence in his voice, the way he said her name like it belonged to him, her chest tightened with a mix of excitement and guilt. She prayed harder, hoping the feelings would vanish. But prayers didn’t erase Samuel.
On Friday evening, as Jasmine walked home from the market, a familiar car slowed beside her. It was a sleek black Benz, tinted windows rolled halfway down.
“Need a ride, Princess?” Samuel’s voice drawled from behind the wheel.
Her heart lurched. “Samuel! What are you doing here?”
“Driving,” he said casually, grinning. “And waiting for the perfect moment to see you again.”
She glanced around nervously. “Someone might see us. Please, you should go.”
“Relax,” Samuel said. “Just a short drive. No one will know.”
Jasmine hesitated. Her conscience screamed no, but her heart whispered yes. Against her better judgment, she slipped into the passenger seat.
They drove through the bustling streets of Yaba, neon lights flickering as dusk settled. Samuel didn’t rush. He let the silence speak, sneaking glances at her while she stared nervously out the window.
“You know,” he finally said, “you’re even more beautiful up close.”
“Stop saying things like that,” Jasmine muttered, though her cheeks burned.
“Why? Because you’re not used to hearing it?”
She turned to him, flustered. “Because it’s wrong. My parents—”
“Your parents don’t own your heart, Jasmine,” Samuel interrupted gently. “They may guide your path, but only you can choose who makes your heart race.”
The words pierced her defenses. She had grown up under strict rules, every decision weighed by her parents. No one had ever told her that her heart belonged to her.
They ended up at a quiet café tucked away on a side street, far from the eyes of the congregation. Samuel ordered two soft drinks, insisting she try the puff-puff. Jasmine laughed despite herself as he made exaggerated faces after sipping her drink.
For the first time in a long while, she felt… normal. Not the pastor’s daughter. Just Jasmine.
“Why me?” she asked softly, her eyes searching his. “You could have anyone.”
Samuel leaned forward, his voice low. “Exactly. I could have anyone. But I don’t want anyone. I want you.”
Her breath caught. He was dangerous—every instinct told her so—but she couldn’t look away.
Over the next few weeks, their meetings became a rhythm. After choir practice, Samuel would wait a few streets away. Sometimes they walked through the University of Lagos campus, blending into the crowd like ordinary students. Sometimes they sat in his car, talking about everything and nothing until nightfall.
With every secret meeting, the line blurred. Jasmine tried to convince herself it was innocent—just conversations, just laughter. But deep down, she knew her heart was slipping further into forbidden territory.
And Samuel? He, too, was surprised. At first, Jasmine had been a challenge, a thrill. But now, he found himself craving her presence, her innocence, the way she made him feel like more than a playboy with a flashy car.
One evening, as they sat under the shade of a tree in UNILAG, Samuel reached for her hand. Jasmine froze but didn’t pull away. His touch was warm, firm, protective.
“You feel it too, don’t you?” he asked softly.
Her lips trembled. “Samuel, this is wrong.”
“Then let it be wrong,” he whispered, squeezing her hand gently. “Sometimes the wrong things make life worth living.”
Their eyes met, and the world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of them—two hearts tangled in a dangerous secret.
And though Jasmine whispered a silent prayer for strength, she knew the truth: she was already too deep to walk away.
Chapter Six – The Pastor’s Wrath
Sunday service at Christ the Rock Evangelical Church was in full swing. The choir’s voices rose like a river, filling the air with harmonies of praise. Jasmine sang from the front row, her voice steady, her smile angelic. To the congregation, she looked every bit the pastor’s daughter: pure, holy, untouchable.
But Pastor Rufus was not fooled.
Over the past few weeks, he had noticed subtle changes in his daughter. The secret smiles, the dreamy look in her eyes during sermons, the way she lingered after youth fellowship. Even Deaconess Toluwani had whispered her suspicions.
“Rufus, I am a mother. I know when a girl is falling in love. Something is going on with Jasmine.”
That morning, as Pastor Rufus mounted the pulpit, his eyes scanned the crowd—and fell on Samuel. There he was again, seated at the back, dressed smartly in a crisp white shirt, his gaze fixed not on the sermon but on Jasmine.
Rufus’s heart hardened.
After service, the courtyard buzzed with its usual chaos—children running around, members greeting one another, vendors selling soft drinks outside the gate. Jasmine tried to slip out with Amaka, but her father’s voice thundered behind her.
“Jasmine!”
She froze. Turning, she saw her father striding toward her, his face stormy. Deaconess Toluwani followed closely, her arms folded tightly across her chest.
“Where are you going?” Pastor Rufus demanded.
“Home, Daddy,” Jasmine said quietly.
“With who?” His eyes flicked past her—to Samuel, who stood a few feet away, watching the scene unfold.
Jasmine’s lips parted, but no words came.
Pastor Rufus stepped closer, his voice low but cutting. “Have you been speaking to that boy?”
Silence. Jasmine lowered her eyes, her fingers trembling around her Bible.
“Answer me!” her father barked.
“Yes,” Jasmine whispered.
The courtyard seemed to go silent. Amaka’s eyes widened. Samuel stiffened but didn’t move. Deaconess Toluwani gasped, shaking her head as if the world had just collapsed.
That evening, the Rufus household was heavy with tension. The dinner table sat untouched. Jasmine sat quietly, while her father paced the living room, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Jasmine,” he said finally, stopping in front of her. “Do you know who that boy is? Do you know the kind of life he lives? He is a playboy, a womanizer, a Lagos street boy. He is not a child of God.”
Jasmine’s voice trembled. “Daddy, you don’t know him. He’s different with me—”
“Different?” Rufus thundered. “The devil is always different when he wants to trap you! Have I not warned you that the enemy will come in disguise?”
“Rufus, calm down,” Deaconess Toluwani said gently, though her own eyes were sharp with anger. “The girl has been bewitched.”
Jasmine’s tears spilled. “I’m not bewitched! I… I love him.”
The words hung in the air like a bombshell.
Pastor Rufus’s face turned red, his fists trembling. “What did you just say?”
“I love him,” Jasmine repeated, her voice breaking.
For a moment, the pastor stared at his daughter as though she were a stranger. Then he raised his hand—not to strike, but to point at her like a prophet delivering judgment.
“As long as I live, you will never see that boy again! Do you hear me? Never!”
Jasmine sobbed, running to her room, slamming the door behind her.
Outside, in the quiet streets of Yaba, Samuel stood under a dim streetlight, staring at Jasmine’s darkened window. He didn’t need to be told what had happened—he could feel it in the heaviness of the air.
But instead of retreating, his jaw tightened.
If Pastor Rufus thought he could scare him away, he was wrong.
This was only the beginning.
Chapter Seven – When Love Hurts
Jasmine barely slept that night. Her father’s words echoed in her mind like a drumbeat: “As long as I live, you will never see that boy again!”
She tossed and turned, her pillow damp with tears. Every part of her wanted to obey, to be the perfect daughter her parents raised her to be. But her heart betrayed her. It ached for Samuel—for his smile, his boldness, the way he made her feel alive in a world that had always been carefully guarded.
By morning, her eyes were swollen, but she forced herself into routine—helping her mother in the kitchen, leading prayers at family devotion, smiling faintly during breakfast. Inside, however, she was breaking.
Samuel, too, wrestled with his emotions. At his Lekki apartment, his cousin Ayo confronted him.
“Samuel, abeg, leave that girl alone. You know Pastor Rufus will never accept you. Why bring wahala to yourself?”
Samuel leaned against the balcony railing, a cigarette between his fingers though he never lit it. His eyes were heavy. “Ayo, you don’t understand. She’s not like the others. Jasmine makes me want to be… better. For the first time in my life, I actually care about something more than myself.”
Ayo sighed. “That’s love talking. But love no dey survive without wisdom. If you push too hard, her father fit destroy you—and her too.”
But Samuel was stubborn. He wasn’t ready to let go.
At church the following Wednesday, Jasmine tried to avoid him. She kept her head bowed, her steps quick. But Samuel found her outside after fellowship, standing by the gate with Amaka.
“Jasmine,” he called softly.
Her heart clenched at the sound of his voice. She glanced around nervously. Amaka, sensing the tension, muttered an excuse and slipped away.
“Why are you here?” Jasmine whispered sharply. “Do you want my father to kill me?”
Samuel’s eyes softened. “I just wanted to see you. To know you’re okay.”
“I’m not okay,” Jasmine snapped, her voice trembling. “My father threatened me because of you. My mother thinks I’m possessed. I can’t keep doing this, Samuel. It’s too hard.”
Samuel reached for her hand, but she pulled away quickly. “Jasmine, listen to me. I know I don’t have the best reputation. I know people see me as a playboy. But with you—it’s different. I swear, you make me want to change.”
Tears welled in Jasmine’s eyes. “You say that now. But what if it’s just a game? What if I end up another name on your list?”
Samuel’s voice broke, uncharacteristically vulnerable. “You’re not a game to me. You’re the first thing in my life that feels real.”
For a moment, silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken longing.
Jasmine wiped her eyes, whispering, “Samuel… I love you. But love shouldn’t hurt this much.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Then let’s stop letting them control us. Let’s write our own story, Jasmine. Just you and me.”
Her breath hitched. The temptation was fierce, the risk terrifying. She wanted to believe him, but she could still hear her father’s thunderous voice in her head.
“Please,” Samuel pleaded, his eyes locked on hers. “Don’t give up on us.”
Jasmine hesitated, her heart waging war with her mind. Finally, she whispered, “I don’t know how long I can fight them, Samuel.”
“Then let me fight for you,” he said.
And in that moment, despite the fear, Jasmine knew she couldn’t let go—not yet.
But back at home, Deaconess Toluwani was already watching her daughter more closely. And Pastor Rufus, burning with suspicion, began making plans to end this “abomination” once and for all.
For Jasmine and Samuel, love was no longer just forbidden—it was dangerous.
Chapter Eight – Whispers and Betrayal
In Lagos, secrets never stayed hidden for long. By the next Sunday, whispers had already begun to float through the church.
It started with Sister Kemi, a middle-aged woman with a sharp tongue and a reputation for gossip. She had seen Jasmine and Samuel talking outside fellowship one evening—too closely for comfort. By the following week, half the women in the women’s fellowship had heard the story.
“Pastor’s daughter with that Samuel boy? God forbid!” they hissed, shaking their heads.
By mid-service, side glances followed Jasmine wherever she moved. Her once-spotless reputation was now tainted by rumor.
At home, the storm finally broke.
Pastor Rufus slammed his palm on the dining table after church. “Jasmine! Tell me the truth now before I call heaven to bear witness! Are you still seeing that boy?”
Jasmine’s lips trembled. “Daddy, please—”
“Answer me!”
“Yes,” she whispered.
The silence that followed was deafening. Deaconess Toluwani gasped, clutching her chest as though her daughter had just announced her own funeral.
“You dare to defy me?” Pastor Rufus roared, his eyes blazing. “Do you know what this means? Do you know the shame you are bringing on this family? On this ministry?”
Jasmine burst into tears. “Daddy, I love him! Why can’t you understand?”
“Because love without God is sin!” Rufus thundered. “And that boy is nothing but a vessel of sin!”
Deaconess Toluwani’s voice was cold and sharp. “As long as you are under this roof, Jasmine, you will obey. End this foolishness now, or forget that you have parents.”
The words cut Jasmine deeper than any whip.
Meanwhile, Samuel was fighting his own battles.
At a lounge in Surulere, his friend Ayo confronted him again. “Guy, this thing don dey hot pass normal. People dey talk. Do you really think you can go against a whole pastor and win?”
Samuel sipped his drink, his eyes dark. “This isn’t about winning, Ayo. This is about Jasmine. I love her. I don’t care what anyone says.”
Ayo shook his head. “Love no dey feed you when war starts. You better prepare yourself. Pastor Rufus no be small man for this Lagos. He get power, connections. If he decides to finish you, na finish be that.”
But Samuel’s pride and passion only flamed higher. “Then let him try. I’m not backing down.”
The scandal reached its peak two weeks later.
At youth fellowship, Samuel and Jasmine were spotted sitting together under a mango tree behind the church compound. Their conversation was innocent—just laughter, shy smiles, the brushing of fingers—but to the wrong eyes, it was sin.
Brother Chuka, a zealous church worker loyal to Pastor Rufus, caught sight of them and wasted no time reporting what he saw.
By the next morning, the entire church board knew.
That Sunday, Pastor Rufus did what no one expected.
He mounted the pulpit, his Bible in one hand, his face thunderous. The church was silent.
“Beloved,” he began, his voice trembling with both fury and pain. “It is with a heavy heart that I speak today. For the enemy has tried to enter this house… through my own daughter.”
Gasps filled the sanctuary. Jasmine sat frozen in the front pew, her face drained of blood.
“My daughter has been ensnared by the devil through an unbeliever, a playboy, a man of the world!” Rufus continued, his voice rising. “And I will not allow Satan to destroy this ministry through her disobedience!”
The congregation erupted into murmurs. Some stared at Jasmine with pity, others with judgment. Tears blurred her vision as shame consumed her.
Samuel, seated at the back, rose to his feet. His fists clenched. His heart pounded.
This was no longer just forbidden love.
It was war.
Chapter Nine – Love and Ruins
The church courtyard buzzed with murmurs after Pastor Rufus’s thunderous sermon. Some members shook their heads in disappointment, others whispered in sympathy, but the verdict was clear: Jasmine had become the shame of Christ the Rock Evangelical Church.
Jasmine sat trembling in the front row, her heart shattered. Never had she felt so exposed, so humiliated. Tears streaked her face as she tried to disappear into herself.
But Samuel would not let her drown alone.
He marched down the aisle, ignoring the gasps that followed him. His voice rang out, bold, defiant. “Enough, Pastor Rufus! If you want to condemn someone, condemn me. But leave Jasmine out of it.”
The congregation erupted. Some shouted blasphemy! Others murmured fearless boy.
Pastor Rufus’s face turned crimson. “How dare you stand in my father’s house and challenge me?!”
“I dare because I love your daughter,” Samuel shot back, his chest heaving. “And I won’t let you destroy her just to protect your pride!”
Gasps echoed again. Jasmine covered her mouth, her heart racing at his audacity.
Deaconess Toluwani rose to her feet, pointing at Samuel. “Leave this place at once! You are possessed!”
Samuel’s eyes blazed. “If loving Jasmine is possession, then yes—I am possessed. And I won’t apologize.”
He turned to Jasmine, extending his hand. “Come with me.”
The room froze. All eyes shifted to Jasmine. Her father’s glare bore into her like fire, but Samuel’s hand waited—steady, sure, promising freedom.
Her breath caught in her throat. She rose slowly, her knees trembling. For a heartbeat, the entire church held its breath.
Then, with tears streaming down her cheeks, Jasmine placed her hand in Samuel’s.
A collective gasp swept through the sanctuary.
They fled into the night, running through the streets of Yaba as if chased by shadows. Samuel’s grip on her hand was strong, desperate.
When they reached his car, Jasmine broke down. “Samuel, what have we done? My father will never forgive me. I’ve brought shame to my family, to the church—”
“Forget them,” Samuel said fiercely, cupping her face. “It’s you and me now. We’ll leave Lagos if we have to. We’ll start over. Just say you’re with me.”
Her sobs quieted. She looked into his eyes—eyes that, for once, carried no mischief, no games, only raw truth. “I’m with you.”
They kissed, and for a moment, the world disappeared.
But fate was not so kind.
The next day, news spread like wildfire. Pastor Rufus, humiliated before his congregation, declared his daughter excommunicated until she repented. Deaconess Toluwani wept, refusing to utter Jasmine’s name.
Worse still, Samuel’s past came knocking. Old flings, unpaid debts, and bitter rivals surfaced, fueled by rumors. To many, his love for Jasmine was not romance but scandal.
One night, as they sat in Samuel’s apartment, Jasmine’s phone buzzed with a message from her younger brother, Daniel.
“Daddy is planning to report Samuel to the police. He says you’ve been kidnapped. Please be careful.”
Jasmine’s blood ran cold.
Samuel read the message, his jaw tightening. “So this is how far he’ll go.”
Jasmine clutched his hand. “What do we do?”
Samuel looked at her, his expression torn between love and fury. “We run. But Jasmine… once we do, there’s no coming back.”
Her tears fell again, but she nodded. “Then let’s run.”
They never made it out of Lagos.
That night, as Samuel drove them toward the outskirts of the city, flashing lights suddenly filled the rearview mirror. Sirens wailed. Police cars blocked the road ahead.
Samuel slammed the brakes, his heart pounding.
“Samuel!” Jasmine cried.
He gripped the wheel, his eyes darting. “They set us up.”
Armed officers surrounded the car.
“Samuel Adeyemi, step out of the vehicle!” one of them barked.
Jasmine clutched his arm, sobbing. “Don’t leave me!”
Samuel turned to her, brushing a tear from her cheek. His voice was steady, calm. “No matter what happens, remember this—I loved you, Jasmine. More than I’ve ever loved anyone.”
Before she could answer, the doors were wrenched open. Samuel was dragged out, pinned to the ground. Jasmine screamed, fighting against the officers who held her back.
The night swallowed their cries.
Weeks later, the church returned to its calm routine. Pastor Rufus preached with renewed fire, declaring victory over “the spirit of lust and rebellion.” Deaconess Toluwani sang louder in the choir, her face tight with forced joy.
But Jasmine sat in her room every night, staring at the moon through her window. Her body was present, but her heart was far away—with the boy who had risked everything for her.
Samuel remained behind bars, awaiting trial for charges that were as much fabricated as they were real. Yet even in chains, his heart beat for her.
Their love, forbidden and battered, had not died. It simply lived in exile—burning, aching, unbroken.
MY THOUGHTS...
Forbidden love has always been one of the oldest tales in human history, yet it never loses its sting. Jasmine and Samuel’s story reminds us that love is not always celebrated—sometimes it is fought, judged, and even punished. But in the end, it also shows that the heart does not bow easily to rules, reputations, or fear.
In a society like ours, where tradition and religion often dictate the boundaries of affection, the question remains: should love be sacrificed for obedience, or should obedience be sacrificed for love?
What do you think? Was Jasmine brave for following her heart, or foolish for defying her parents? And was Samuel truly in love, or just another Lagos boy chasing what he couldn’t have?
The answers, perhaps, lie in the conversations this story sparks.
