I walked in on my father's 'church meeting' at 2am and it changed everything

I was 16, living in Festac. My father was a deacon in our church, the kind of man who prayed for 30 minutes before breakfast. One night I couldn't sleep, went to get water from the kitchen. I saw light coming from the parlour.

He was on his knees with Sister Grace from the choir. The woman who led our youth programme. They were not praying. I stood there for maybe five seconds. He saw me. The look on his face I have never forgotten.

I never told my mother. I stopped going to church. I stopped trusting men who talk too much about God. The thing is, he still calls me every Sunday to ask if I have found a good church. I just say yes. I don't know how to tell him I lost my faith that night.