Before she could, someone came running up to her, and she froze.
Luke edged himself in front of her, automatically shifting into protective mode as she prepared herself for trouble.
For a split second, Luke braced himself for possible danger.
The earlier shadowed man still clung to the edges of his mind, unwelcome and insistent. He’d briefly glimpsed the man. The guy hadn’t appeared dangerous—only like another bystander.
His presence had clearly shaken up Amayah. She hadn’t seemed willing to admit anything, and Luke didn’t push. But he was curious, especially considering how frightened she’d looked.
However, the figure that appeared in front of them wasn’t the man from earlier.
It was a young woman—maybe twenty-two at most—breathless, cheeks flushed pink from the cold, a knit hat slipping sideways over her dark curls.
“Oh my gosh,” she cried, skidding to a stop. “Oh my gosh, itisyou!”
Amayah’s posture eased the tiniest bit, but Luke still saw the guardedness lingering in her eyes.
The young woman clasped her hands under her chin. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to scare you. I just—” Her voice cracked into a squeal. “I’m your biggest fan!”
A small laugh escaped Amayah, polite but still edged with adrenaline. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”
“No, you don’t understand.” The woman stepped closer, eyes wide with devotion. “Your videos . . . the ones about courage and stepping into the life you’re meant to live? They changed everything for me.”
Amayah’s expression softened, genuine warmth replacing her earlier fear. “I’m glad they helped you.”
“They didn’t just help me,” the woman insisted, clutching her tote bag tighter. “They saved me. I was stuck at this awful job—like, soul-crushing, toxic—and when you said we were made for purpose and not performance . . . that God doesn’t waste our steps . . . well, those words really hit me, and I quit. Last week. I’m finally chasing my dreams, just like you did.”
She beamed, radiant and expectant.
And Amayah froze.
It was subtle—just a small, tight inhale—but Luke felt it like a crack in the air.
His own stomach pulled taut.
Because he’d heard this before.
Seen it.
Lived through the consequences.
Hannah had said almost those exact words.
A knot formed at the base of his throat. How would Amayah handle this? Would she encourage the woman’s decisions? Make a show of it for the camera?
Amayah found her voice and gently said, “That’s . . . a big decision.”
The young woman nodded a little too eagerly. “I know! But when you said we should walk through the doors God opens? I felt like He was opening one for me.”
Amayah’s smile trembled—kind but weighted. “Have you . . . made a plan for what’s next?”
“Oh, definitely. Mostly. But I’m trusting the process.”
A cold thread snaked down Luke’s spine.
Trusting the process had been Hannah’s mantra too—right up until trust had led her to death’s doorstep.
Amayah placed a hand on the woman’s arm. “You are valuable beyond what you do. But please take care of yourself, okay? Doors are meant to be walked through with wisdom.”
