Some time ago, I received a prophecy that I would meet a man abroad, someone who matched a very specific description, and that I would marry him. When I finally met him, he was exactly as the pastor had described. So I followed the flow.

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Our first date was beautiful. He didn’t try to touch me or cross any lines. For a long time, he didn’t do anything at all. He was respectful, kind, and truly a gentleman. After six months together, we had our last date before I left his town. It felt like a scene from a movie. We had dinner, then took a quiet walk to the park. We sat on a bench, watching geese play in the spring. It was a cold December night, but when we kissed, the cold disappeared. It was magical. Every touch felt deep, like our lives depended on it. That night became one of my favourite memories.

I was raised in a Christian home, with a strong fear of God. I’ve always believed in staying pure until marriage. My partner isn’t a believer, though he grew up in a Christian home. He said that after his father died, his mother sank into depression, and over time, their whole family gradually drifted away from God.

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At first, our different beliefs didn’t seem like a big deal. But as time went on, intimacy became an issue. He didn’t want a relationship without physical connection. We had been together for almost a year. He never forced me, but I could feel his patience wearing thin. We didn’t argue: we talked, we reasoned, and we loved each other with maturity. But someone had to give in. And I did, without thinking twice.

A month ago, he took my virginity. The month before that, he touched me in a way that broke my hymen. I saw the blood on the sheets, and it broke my heart. But that pain was nothing compared to how I felt the night we finally had sex. I cried quietly as he entered me, realizing I had done the one thing I promised my mother I never would.

I never thought I’d enjoy physical intimacy this much. I’ve been with someone before, but this feels different. When we make love, it’s not just physical. It feels emotional, even spiritual. Every touch, every kiss feels like he’s saying, ‘You are mine, you belong here, my arms are your home.’

He’s a very good man. I can’t imagine letting him go. But I’m torn. I feel broken. I’ve always been open with my mum, but now I don’t know if I should tell her or carry this guilt until he marries me, maybe next year on my 25th birthday, if things go well.

What hurts more is that I don’t know how to fix my relationship with God while being with someone who isn’t walking with Him. I know we’re unequally yoked. But he’s such a good man. My brother says maybe God brought me into his life to help him find his way back to faith. But right now, it feels like I’m the one drifting away.

What do I do?

—Vanessa

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