The air hadn’t changed, but Jul had. Sitting across from Han, wearing his shirt and pretending at boundaries, she felt the weight of everything unsaid. When his hand reached for her face, it wasn’t possession that scared her — it was how deeply she needed the touch. Some moments don’t feel like beginnings. They feel like truths you’ve been denying for too long.

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.