Insight of a Kenyan Girl

The front door clicked softly behind him, and for a moment, the room held its breath. Patty stepped inside with that familiar calm an effortless presence that filled the small space without making a sound. He didn’t rush to speak or fill the silence. Instead, his eyes found mine, steady and searching, as if trying to gauge what was left unspoken.

“You’ve been quiet today,” he said, voice low and even as he dropped his bag by the door.

I forced a small smile, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “Just thinking.”

He didn’t press me further, but settled into the armchair across the room, leaning forward slightly, waiting patiently like he always did. It was the kind of silence that asked questions without words.

“About what?” His tone was gentle but curious.

I hesitated, feeling the weight of the past weeks pressing down on me. My fingers twisted nervously in my lap as I searched for the right words. “About you,” I finally admitted. “About how you know things I never told you. The phone calls you take late at night, full of words I don’t understand. The way you look at me sometimes as if you can see right through the walls I build.”

His smile softened, but there was still an edge of caution in his gaze. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said quietly. “There are parts of my life that you aren’t ready for yet things I have to keep locked away.”

I nodded slowly, my heart thudding louder than I wanted to admit. “Sometimes, it feels like there’s a part of you that you’re keeping hidden from me… like you don’t want me to see the real you.”

He leaned back, the faintest shadow flickering across his face. “Maybe I have to. Maybe it’s for both our sakes.”

The room grew thick with silence, heavy and charged with tension. I studied him—his careful movements, the way his jaw tightened when he thought I wasn’t looking, the way his eyes seemed to hold storms I couldn’t reach.

There was so much I didn’t know, and yet, I found myself drawn closer to the mystery.

Despite the uncertainty, he reached out gently, tucking a loose curl behind my ear. The touch was light, but it sent a jolt through me. “But I want you to know this,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. “Whatever I am, wherever I come from I’m here. Not just in messages or phone calls, but right here, with you.”

His words wrapped around me like a fragile promise, warm yet fragile, like glass ready to shatter at the slightest touch.

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of unspoken questions pressing down on me. How much of him was truth? How much was carefully concealed? And why, even with all the secrets, did I feel this pull toward him?

For the first time in a long time, I felt something like hope. Like maybe I wasn’t as alone as I thought.

Outside, the city’s lights blinked awake, the hum of life carrying on as if nothing had changed. But inside, everything was shifting.

And I knew, deep down, that whatever came next it wouldn’t be simple.
Patty’s gaze softened but held a quiet intensity, as if he was weighing every moment carefully. He shifted slightly in his seat, the faintest crease forming between his brows a glimpse of the inner tension he rarely showed.

He didn’t answer my unspoken questions about who he really was or what he carried with him. Instead, he let silence fill the space between us, the kind of silence that said more than words ever could.

“I’m not Callum,” he said quietly, almost as if reassuring himself.

The weight of those words settled in the room. Not Callum. Not the past I was trying to escape, the pain I was trying to bury. Patty’s voice was steady, but I could sense the unspoken promise behind it that he would be different.

He reached out, fingers brushing lightly against my hand. The touch was careful, deliberate, as if testing the waters, gauging how much I was willing to let in.

“I don’t expect you to understand everything about me right now,” he added, his voice low, “but I’m here. That’s what matters.”

I nodded, heart pounding with a strange mix of hope and uncertainty. There were still so many shadows around him parts he wouldn’t share yet but maybe, just maybe, that was okay.

Because for the first time in a long while, I felt like maybe I didn’t have to face everything alone.