The day had started off so well. Lucifer, ever meticulous, had planned everything down to the last detail. Dinner at one of the finest restaurants in the Devildom, a moonlit stroll along a serene path lined with glowing flowers—it had all been perfect. At least, until it wasn’t.

By the time you left the restaurant, Lucifer’s jaw was clenched so tightly you swore you heard it creak.

Then, like pouring oil on a flame, he lost control in a moment of rare emotional vulnerability, his demon form emerging for all to see. A few onlookers gasped, whispering about the ever-composed Lucifer finally letting loose. You stormed off before it could get worse, and he followed, his strides tense but silent.

Now, walking back to the House of Lamentation, the silence between you was deafening. Neither of you had said a word since the fight, and you doubted he would break first. His pride wouldn’t allow it.

Then, the rain began.

It started as a light drizzle, but soon it was pouring. Cold droplets soaked your clothes, and you cursed under your breath. Of course, no umbrella. You tugged your jacket tighter, too stubborn to acknowledge the situation or the fact that Lucifer, walking beside you, was just as drenched.

You felt it before you saw it—a shield from the rain. Looking up, you realized one of Lucifer’s massive wings now stretched above you, its dark feathers gleaming under the rain.

“Don’t misunderstand. I’m simply preventing you from catching a cold,” he said, his voice clipped, his crimson gaze fixed firmly ahead.

“You could just apologize, you know,” you muttered. “And what would I have to apologize for?” he shot back, still refusing to meet your gaze.

He sighed, the sound exasperated but tinged with something softer. His usual confidence faltered for just a moment. “Perhaps I… overreacted,” he admitted grudgingly, his voice low.