The Devil Within: Short Stories from My Grandmother’s Pillow Series

“Not all prisons have bars. Some are built from silence and expectations.”

Evangeline Teo was the picture of grace—elegant cheongsam always pressed, her hair in a neat twist, pearls around her neck like punctuation marks. Wife of Dato’ Reyes Teo, a prominent banker whose face appeared often in The Star, she lived in a house tucked behind iron gates in Damansara Heights. The kind of house with silent maids, mango trees trimmed just so, and a prayer altar that smelled faintly of jasmine and sandalwood.

Her life, from the outside, was charmed.

She didn’t need to work. She didn’t need to speak too loudly. She attended women’s luncheons and charity events, smiled at ministers’ wives, and kept conversations away from politics and anything unpleasant. At her weekly women’s club, she listened patiently as the others gossiped about who had a new facelift or which daughter-in-law refused to learn how to make sambal belacan from scratch.

Evangeline took pride in her role: a cultured woman, a supportive wife, a mother of two boys studying in Australia. She had mastered the art of existing without disturbing.

But lately, she felt something shift. It began with the quiet.

The silences between herself and Reyes grew longer. When he came home, his eyes stayed on his phone. When he spoke, it was often about himself. He had started calling her “Mama,” even when they were alone, as though she had become a function, not a woman.

And then the voice came.

It didn’t have horns or claws. It sounded like her own voice, only braver.

“Do you know who you are when no one’s looking?”

She dismissed it at first. Blamed menopause. Said prayers, lit incense. Pushed the feeling down.

But the voice was gentle. And persistent. It didn’t urge revenge. It simply asked her to see.

So she started seeing.

She saw how her thoughts were often swallowed before they became words. How her laughter softened to not offend. How her dreams had been edited over the years, replaced by other people’s priorities.

At a dinner party one evening, she watched Reyes boast about a business move that had been her idea, shared long ago in bed while stroking his hair. He never mentioned her.

She smiled, as expected. Poured tea for the guests. And felt nothing.

The next morning, she did something small. She walked to the kopitiam alone. No driver. No makeup. She ordered nasi lemak wrapped in banana leaf and sat on a red plastic stool, listening to the sound of motorcycles and morning radio.

It was such a small rebellion, it almost didn’t exist.

But it did.

After that, she stopped agreeing for the sake of being agreeable. She stopped apologizing for taking up space. She stopped wearing the heavy gold bracelet Reyes’s mother had given her, the one that felt more like a shackle than a gift.

Then came the quiet, irreversible act.

One night, after another round of loud business guests and louder whiskey, Evangeline went upstairs, opened her wardrobe, and chose a single bag.

She packed it slowly. One pair of shoes. One photo of her sons. A notebook. Two cheongsams—light cotton, her favourites. She took off her wedding ring and placed it in a bowl on her dressing table beside a stick of sandalwood incense.

She left no note. She didn’t shout. She didn’t slam the door.

She simply left.

Caught the KTM to Penang. Checked into a modest inn by the sea. Ate char kway teow with her fingers and watched the waves erase themselves again and again.

She didn’t become someone else. She just stopped pretending to be someone she no longer was.

Moral: The devil within is not always wicked. Sometimes, she is the voice that leads you home to yourself.

©Lyia Meta

Glossary for Evangeline Teo Story

• Cheongsam – Traditional Chinese dress, typically form-fitting with a high collar and side slits, often made of silk and embroidered.

• Dato’ – Honorific title in Malaysia, similar to “Sir” in British usage; indicates respect and social status.

• The Star – Leading English-language newspaper in Malaysia.

• Damansara Heights – Upscale residential area in Kuala Lumpur.

• Sambal belacan – Malaysian chili paste made with shrimp paste, a staple in Malay and Peranakan cuisine.

• Kopitiam – Traditional Malaysian coffee shop serving local breakfast and beverages, often with communal seating.

• Nasi lemak – Traditional Malaysian dish of coconut rice served with sambal, anchovies, peanuts, cucumber, and boiled egg.

• Banana leaf – Often used in Malaysian cuisine as a natural wrapper for food, enhancing aroma and presentation.

• Char kway teow – Stir-fried flat rice noodles popular in Malaysia, often cooked with egg, shrimp, Chinese sausage, and bean sprouts.

• Sandalwood incense – Fragrant incense used in prayers, meditation, or to scent a room; common in Malaysian Chinese households.

• KTM – Keretapi Tanah Melayu, Malaysia’s national railway service.