To love a pagan king

Like every girl who had dreamt of her man, she probably had her spec too - child of God at heart, Holy Spirit filled, accurate teacher of the word, a man who can be a covering for her and their children, maybe handsome and handles the kitchen knife with skill.


‎With each day passing, her waiting clock ticked and she fantasized the day they would meet; the day he would befriend her; the day she would have to pray about them, out of curiousity; the day he would propose to her; the day she would tell her uncle about him, with her brightest smile and red cheeks. Each scene, a continuous replay in her mind, like a broken record. But, she made a choice to wait, patiently and actively for him till her dream could be felt and held.


‎But Destiny had a different plan up His sleeves, and she had to make a choice.


‎The town crier echoed words from the palace, "The royal head is in need of a bride." Daughters of a land, not hers, in their prime, smiles brighter than the morning sun, bodies as pure as a white linen, all filed to the king's palace, among who she was numbered.


‎With each step towards the palace, she allowed herself to drown in the image of her spec - his broad face, thick eyebrows, long thin eyelashes, sharp and masculine lips curved into a smile, and his well-trimmed beard. Each step towards the palace is a step from her spec. Each step from her spec is a step to her learning to love a pagan king.


‎#Esther1,2

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