September 9th,
It started with two. And then became three. It's strange how God works — you whisper a prayer in secret, and suddenly, He answers in human form. We weren't looking for friends. We were looking for fire. But sometimes, both come together.
***
We started the prayer walks on a Wednesday.
5:00 AM. Just as the first light bruised the sky.
The campus was quiet — only the rustling of leaves, the occasional footsteps of security guards, and the sound of our soft prayers. Tony and I didn't need to shout. Our spirits were loud enough. We circled the Arts Block once, then headed to the open field behind the library.
"Every morning?" he asked.
"Every morning," I nodded.
That was the agreement. Consistency. Intercession. Surrender.
We prayed in tongues, declared scripture over the school, and listened. Really listened. And sometimes the Spirit would whisper things — names, burdens, warnings. I wrote everything down.
It was on the third morning that we met her.
A girl, average height with a chocolaty skin, sitting under one of the trees with her Bible on her lap. She wore glasses, and her hair was in braids. She looked up as we passed, then stood.
"Excuse me," she said, voice soft but sure. "Are you two… praying?"
Tony and I paused.
"Yes," I replied, surprised.
"I knew it," she smiled. "I've been coming here for a while now. Same time. Alone. I always wondered if I was the only one."
There was something about her spirit — warm, genuine. No pretense. Just a quiet fire.
"I'm Sandra," I said, stepping forward.
"Mayumi," she replied, shaking my hand.
"I'm Tony."
We talked a little more and ended up praying together right there under the tree. And from that day, it became the new rhythm. Three of us. One purpose. One God.
Later that day, in class, I nearly gasped when Mayumi walked into the lecture hall and sat beside me.
"You're in this department?" I asked.
She smiled. "Yep. Mass Communication."
I laughed. "How did I not know this?!"
"Maybe we weren't meant to meet until we met under the tree," she replied with a wink.
That line stuck with me the whole day.
That night, Anita tossed and turned in bed.
I woke up to a soft whimper and glanced at the clock — 3:12 AM.
She was sweating. Her brows furrowed. Lips moving as if she were whispering something in a different language.
Then suddenly, she jerked awake, gasping.
I sat up. "Are you okay?"
She wiped her face, looking dazed. "Yeah. Yeah, just a dream."
But I noticed her hands trembling.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," she snapped too quickly. "It's nothing."
She lay back down, turning to the wall.
But it wasn't nothing. And I knew that now.
***
Mayumi said something today: "Sometimes, the ones who hurt the most are the ones who act like nothing's wrong." I can't help but feel that was about Anita. She doesn't talk much, but something about her feels haunted. Like she's carrying chains only she can see. I've started praying for her. I don't know why… but I feel like that dream she keeps having isn't just a dream.