The Devil Does Cry

There is a moment when care and control look identical, and you only realize the difference when it is too late. Damon called it safety. Selene called it love. By the second month, her world had quietly folded into his — new locks, shared keys, fewer words of her own. When a friend names the orbit she’s trapped in, Selene begins to sense the invisible walls closing, even as she tightens her grip on the very keys that bind her.

Damon’s attention arrives gently—messages, poems, remembered details. What feels like care begins to shape Selene’s days, warming her silence into something shared. But when devotion sharpens into fear of disappearance, Selene wonders whether love has found her… or whether she has stepped too close to the fire.

In a Lagos café thick with dust and evening light, Selene comes to write herself back into prayer. Instead, a stranger finishes her sentence. He doesn’t smile too easily or ask for rescue—only listens. As memory, fire, and restraint surface, Selene realizes some encounters don’t arrive to save you. They arrive to test what you’re willing to carry home.