I had always believed that love was something one earned. It was a simple enough formula: achieve, obey, and in return, receive affection. I had faithfully carried this idea until the day Mr. Kunle walked into our lives. My mum announced one evening, “You’ll have to start calling him Dad now.”

“Dad?” I echoed. “I’ve never called anyone Dad. It’s... weird.”

She offered no argument. I didn’t protest again, but in my heart, I built a cautious wall.

Yet, time—persistent—has a way of unravelling the knots we tie around our hearts. Slowly, Mr. Kunle became a fixture in our lives. He was kind, intelligent without arrogance, patient where others had been quick to anger. He treated Mum with a tenderness that made her different, a lightness I hadn’t realised we’d lost.

Before I could comprehend it, two years had passed. When his fiftieth birthday approached, Mum arranged a filmed series of tributes from loved ones. We were each to sit before the camera and speak from the heart. When my turn came, I was determined to be eloquent. I sat before the camera, lights glaring, the room humming with the low buzz of equipment.

The videographer asked me a question—a simple one—but for all the weight it would later bear, I cannot remember it now. My mind, once so sure, suddenly faltered.

“Pastor Kunle is a kind...” I managed before the words snagged, trembling on the edge of tears. The realisation crashed over me: I had a father. A father who had loved me without condition. I sat there, helpless before the camera, choking on sobs I had never intended to release. That day, something changed forever. Mr. Kunle stopped being “Mr. Kunle.” He became Dad.

Later at the event, family and friends gathered to celebrate him. Everyone else had spoken smoothly, smiling brightly into the camera. I was the only one crying.

But then I saw him across the room. My father sat with tears streaming silently down his face. It was the first and only time I ever saw him cry.

I understood what I had struggled so long to grasp. Love is not a currency. It is a gift freely given. My father taught me the greatest virtues of life. Love is not a prize. It is a home, and I have found mine.