Chapter One:The Way He Held My Held
I didn't fall in love with Eli all at once.
It happened in the quiet. In the way he looked at me like I was something rare. In the way he remembered how I took my coffee—two sugars, no cream. In the way his hand found mine like it was always meant to be there.
I'd never been in love before him.
And I'd never been more sure of anything.
He didn't go to church, but he respected that I did. When I read my Bible, he smiled. When I prayed before meals, he'd pause, bow his head, and wait with me in silence. It felt enough. For a while.
"Are you Christian?" I asked him one night as we lay beneath the stars, our fingers laced together.
He turned his head toward me, eyes soft but unreadable. "I'm spiritual."
I blinked. "What does that mean?"
"I believe in something bigger. The universe, energy, love." He smiled like it made perfect sense. "But not religion. Not… church."
My heart didn't shatter. Not yet.
But something cracked.
I nodded slowly, trying to hold on to the warmth of his hand even as my soul cooled with the weight of his words.
I didn't say anything then. I didn't ask what that meant for us. I didn't cry or run or preach. I just laid there and held his hand tighter, like maybe if I loved him hard enough, I could love him into belief.
But deep down, something whispered:
This will hurt later.
And I think part of me already knew—this love was going to cost me something.
Chapter Two :Unequally
I told myself it didn't matter.
That love was bigger than belief. That as long as Eli respected my faith, I didn't need him to share it. I said it out loud once, to my best friend Naomi.
She tilted her head, eyes full of gentle concern. "But Layla… can two walk together unless they agree?"
I laughed it off. "He's not against it, Nai. He just doesn't… believe the same. He's spiritual. That's something."
But her words clung to me like wet clothes.
They followed me into prayer. Into sleep.
Into the silence between Eli and me when I'd mention God—and he'd smile but say nothing.
He never mocked my faith.
He just never entered it.
The longer we dated, the more I noticed the spaces where God should've lived between us—but didn't. When I got excited about a sermon, he nodded like a teacher listening to a child. When I wanted to pray about something, he said, "Whatever gives you peace."
I wanted more than peace.
I wanted purpose.
I wanted Jesus—center stage, not just politely in the wings.
One night after youth Bible study, I stood outside the church steps, waiting for Eli to pick me up. The parking lot was quiet. The air was still. My heart wasn't.
When he pulled up, I slid into the passenger seat. He leaned over and kissed my cheek. "How was church?"
"It was good." I paused. "We talked about being unequally yoked."
He glanced at me. "What's that?"
"It's when two people are walking in different directions spiritually. One has to drag the other, or… they drift apart."
He didn't respond right away.
Then: "So you think that's us?"
I looked at him. Really looked.
His eyes were soft, but not stirred. He didn't seem afraid of the question. He just looked… steady. Sure. Like someone who wasn't planning to change.
"I don't know," I whispered.
But I did.
Somewhere deep inside, I already knew.
And it terrified me.
Because I loved him.
But I loved God more.
And those two truths were starting to tear me apart.
Chapter Three:The First Tear
Eli surprised me with flowers that Friday. Tulips—my favorite.
I smiled, kissed his cheek, and thanked him like everything was fine.
But I hadn't prayed in three days.
Not really prayed. Not the way I used to. My words felt tangled. My heart felt… divided. I would bow my head, open my Bible, and all I could see was Eli. The way he made me laugh. The way he made life feel lighter. The way he made me want to stay.
But I couldn't bring him into my prayers without feeling the ache of compromise.
"I love him," I whispered to God one night, curled on my bed, the tulips already drooping on my desk.
"I really do."
But silence answered. Not because God was gone.
But because I already knew His answer.
Chapter Four:What If He never Changes?
Sunday came. I asked Eli again if he'd come to church.
He smiled, that soft, kind smile of his. "You know that's not really me, babe."
"But why not just once?" I pressed. "Just to see."
He shook his head. "Church feels like rules. I believe in freedom. In energy, in good vibes. Isn't that enough?"
I stared at him, a lump rising in my throat. "God isn't just good energy, Eli. He's holy. He's a Father. He's the One I live for."
He ran his fingers through his hair. "And I respect that, Layla. I really do. But I'm not going to become someone I'm not just to fit your beliefs."
That was the moment I knew.
He wasn't going to change.
Not because he didn't love me.
But because he didn't love Him.
And what broke me the most…was that I loved someone who didn't love my God.
Chapter Five:You And Him
Naomi came over that night, Bible in one hand and chocolate in the other.
"You can't live split," she said gently as we sat on my bed. "You either build a life with someone walking toward Jesus, or you'll always be walking alone."
"I thought maybe love would be enough," I said, my voice cracking.
"It's not," she whispered. "Not if it takes you away from God."
I cried then.
Hard.
Because I wanted both. I wanted Eli and I wanted God.
I wanted prayers and kisses. Church and movie nights. Jesus and long drives with the boy who knew every lyric to my favorite song.
But Eli wasn't on the same road.
And I couldn't carry him anymore.
So I prayed.
Honestly. Surrendered.
"God… if You're asking me to let go—help me. Because I don't know how."
And for the first time in weeks, peace didn't just visit.
It stayed.
Chapter Six:The Choice
I didn't plan the conversation.
But my heart knew it was time.
We sat on his porch, knees touching, the sky soft with sunset. I'd prayed all day, cried all week. And now it was quiet—the kind of quiet that comes before something breaks.
"I need to ask you something," I said.
Eli turned to me, eyes searching. "Okay."
"If we got married… would you ever come to church? Would you pray with me? Would you raise our kids to love God?"
He didn't answer right away. Just looked away.
"I'd support you," he said. "But I can't give you something I don't believe."
That was it.
No fight. No begging.
Just truth.
And I knew then—
This wasn't about him not loving me.
This was about me not choosing someone who couldn't walk where I was going.
Chapter Seven:Letting Go While Holding On
We hugged in the driveway, under the stars that had once felt magical. I buried my face in his chest and memorized the way his arms felt around me.
"I still love you," he said into my hair.
"I know," I whispered. "I still love you too."
But love wasn't enough.
Not this time. Not if it meant walking away from God.
"I have to choose Him," I said. "Even if it breaks me."
He nodded, eyes glistening. "I won't try to change your mind."
We stood there a little longer, holding on.
Then I pulled away.
Because love sometimes means staying.
And sometimes—it means setting someone free.
Chapter Eight:The Ache After Goodbye
The next morning, I didn't get a good morning text.
No heart emoji. No "how'd you sleep."
Just quiet.
I stared at my phone, my chest hollow.
Then I opened my Bible.
The verse I landed on felt like God was sitting beside me:
"Whoever wants to be My disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow Me."
—Luke 9:23
Tears spilled again. But this time, they weren't just grief.
They were release.
Because I hadn't lost.
I'd obeyed.
And obedience always leads to freedom.
Even when it aches.
Chapter Nine:Becoming Whole again
In the weeks that followed, I returned to prayer like a daughter crawling back into her Father's lap. I didn't rush to fill the silence Eli left behind. I let it breathe. I let it heal.
I journaled. I cried.
I worshiped. I rested.
I even smiled again—slowly at first, then freely.
Naomi said she saw light in my eyes again.
I told her it wasn't me. It was peace.
Real peace.
The kind that comes only from doing what's hard because it's holy.
Chapter Ten:When Letting Go Was Love
Months later, I saw Eli across town. We didn't speak. Just a glance. A small smile. A memory passed between us like wind.
I didn't feel angry.
Or broken.
Just… whole.
I still loved him in a quiet way.
But choosing God wasn't loss. It was love.
Real love. Eternal love.
And as I walked away, I whispered a final prayer:
"Thank You, God… for being worth the goodbye."
⸻
The End.