Insight of a Kenyan Girl

The day had started in soft light and ease.

Patty had offered to take me out an actual date, not a stolen afternoon at the café or a walk that led nowhere. A plan, even if he didn’t say it aloud.

He’d borrowed my umbrella that morning, joking that he’d make a proper Kenyan out of himself yet, learning how to dodge puddles and matatus. I laughed more than I expected to as we navigated the market stalls and dusty paths. He wasn’t loud or showy, but he watched everything listening, asking just enough questions to make me feel seen.

That part of him always caught me off guard. He made me feel like I mattered, not in a grand, overwhelming way but in the quiet, deliberate way someone listens when they care.

And somehow, between the laughter and shared bites of fried plantain from a roadside vendor, I began to realize: I liked who I was around him. A version of myself I didn’t have to explain.

Dinner was simple street food and cold soda in glass bottles. He let me lead the way, and I let him exist in the corners of my little world. A man without a past, yet fully present. Still only Patty. Still a stranger in every practical sense. But something about him felt inevitable.

As we walked back to the house, our shoulders brushed. His hand slipped into mine hesitantly at first, like he was asking a question without using words. I answered by not letting go.

The sky was darkening as we approached the gate. The night was warm, and the air was scented with the sweet drift of charcoal smoke from a neighbor’s jiko. I unlocked the door and turned to say something.

He was already looking at me.

“What?” I asked.

“I was waiting for you to look back.”

I smiled. And then, he kissed me.

It wasn’t dramatic or showy. It didn’t need to be. It was soft and certain the kind of kiss that quiets every thought in your head and replaces it with warmth. His hand cupped the back of my neck, gentle but anchoring, like he was afraid I might disappear.

And maybe I was.

I was disappearing into him, into this strange safety we’d been building.

We stepped inside. I placed the keys on the table, heart still fluttering. He pulled off his jacket and leaned against the doorway, watching me with that unreadable calm of his.

“Still not tired of me?” he asked, teasing.

“Not yet,” I replied, walking past him, brushing his arm with mine.

That’s when we heard it.

The gate creaked open again.

A shadow moved across the veranda.

Knock.

Knock.

Then a voice. Familiar. Ragged with emotion.

“Minnie.”

I froze mid-step, every nerve in my body suddenly alert.

Patty had already straightened up behind me, no longer casual, no longer playful. Just… still.

I opened the door slowly. And there he was.

Callum.

Rain-damp and furious.

“What is he doing here?” he asked, eyes flicking to Patty behind me. “At your house?”

My throat went dry.

“You have no right to be here,” I said, my voice tighter than I wanted.

“I came because I needed answers. And I find him here? In your house? Sleeping under your roof?” His voice rose with each word, wounded pride turning into something darker.

“I don’t owe you explanations,” I snapped. “You lost the right to ask the moment you let me go.”

Patty hadn’t spoken yet. But I could feel him watching calculating.

Callum stepped closer, his jaw clenched. “You don’t even know who he is.”

“And you do?” Patty asked, voice calm but cold.

Callum turned to him, startled by his presence in a way that told me something more: this wasn’t just jealousy. It was fear.

“No,” Callum said, voice shaking. “But I know men like you. You’re dangerous.”

Patty tilted his head, unfazed. “Sometimes,” he said quietly.

Callum looked at me again, eyes wide with something more desperate now. “You think this is safe? You think this is better?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know what was safe anymore. But I knew I wasn’t afraid of the man standing behind me.

“You need to leave,” I said.

Callum looked at me one last time, and whatever he saw in my face made him step back.

“This isn’t over,” he muttered.

As he turned and walked into the darkness, I closed the door behind him.

Silence filled the room like smoke.

Patty stepped beside me. “You okay?”

I nodded, slowly. “He shouldn’t have come here.”

“No,” he said. Then paused. “But now you know someone’s watching.”

The words chilled me more than I expected.

Patty took a step closer. “You’re not alone, Minnie. Not while I’m here.”

But that was just it I was beginning to realize I didn’t fully know who I was letting into my home. Or how much he already knew.

Still, I didn’t back away.

And he didn’t let go.