Stars Don’t Lie

 The clock on the wall ticked past 9:43 PM. Devonté sat at the edge of his bed, lights low, phone on speaker, half-listening to the soft hum of jazz playing from the kitchen while staring into the dark ceiling. His stomach grumbled he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Still, something about this call with Imani was feeding a part of him he hadn’t acknowledged in a while.

Her voice floated through the phone like incense. “You ever just sit under the moon and feel it pullin’ on you? Like it’s tryna tell you something?”

Devontè smirked, lying back. “Yeah. Like it’s checkin’ on me. Moon… stars… all that energy matters. People ignore it, but it’s real.”

“I knew you got it,” she said softly. “I can hear it in how you speak. Your awareness. You feel deeply.”

He let a quiet moment pass, then shifted. “You got kids?”

There was a pause. “Yeah… two. A boy and a girl.”

“Where they daddy at?” he asked.

She sighed. “My daughter’s dad is in her life. My son… not so much. Been just me. He’s my little heart, though. Smart as hell. Obsessed with video games.”

Devonté raised an eyebrow. “How old is he?”

“Ten.”

“Who does he play for?” Devontè asked.

“What do you mean” she asked.

“Never mind I know the answer he doesn’t play football or any sports huh?”

He chuckled lightly. “oh, he a lil soft.”

Imani laughed. “Wow. That’s wild, Devonté.”

“I mean that with love. But every little boy need to play at least one year of football. Teaches ‘em confidence, how to take a hit and get back up. Teamwork. Masculine presence. Discipline amongst other things.”

“I’ve thought about it,” she admitted. “But his dad ain’t around, and I’m just tryna protect him.”

Devonté’s tone dropped into something more serious. “I got three of mine. Two boys, one girl. I’m in they life heavy. Fathers are needed, especially for boys. Ain’t even optional.”

There was something solid in his voice now something that made her fall quiet.

“I respect that,” she finally said. “You don’t sound like most men I know. You stand on what you believe.”

“Try to. Ain’t perfect, though.”

“No one is,” she said. “But I like how you think. You got presence… and depth. Intelligence. That’s sexy, to be honest.”

That caught Devonté off guard. He blinked at the ceiling.

Alease never said things like that.

“You eat today?” she asked.

He chuckled. “Nah. Been running off vibes and water.”

“I’ll cook for you sometime,” she offered. “Real food. Not that microwave mess.”

He grinned. “Yeah? You cook cook?”

“I throw down, I’m from mobtown baby” she said, smiling through the phone with a New Orleans accent . “And I’d feed you right.”

His eyes drifted to the empty kitchen. The leftover scent of sandalwood still hung in the air from earlier. Alease had left nothing behind but questions. No warmth. No praise. Just presence and pressure.

Imani was different.

“Appreciate that,” he said after a beat. “More than you know.”

The stars were still out. And for the first time in a long time, Devonté felt seen—without armor.