Jul hadn’t meant to sit beside another man. Not deliberately. Not spitefully. It was simply the seat offered. One chair away from the only exit, away from the gaze that had tracked her across the rooftop like heat without flame.

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.