Insight of a Kenyan Girl

The silence after Callum’s exit lingered longer than it should have. It clung to the walls, thick and uneasy.

I turned from the door slowly, still reeling. Patty hadn’t moved much he was still standing near the hallway, his arms folded, eyes shadowed with something unreadable. Not anger. Not fear. Just… watchful.

“What was that?” I asked, more to myself than to him.

He didn’t answer immediately. His eyes were still on the door. “An old flame?”

I let out a breath. “More like a scar.”

Patty finally looked at me, something softer flickering in his gaze. “He didn’t scare you?”

“No,” I said honestly. “He just reminded me of who I used to be when I let people like him in.”

Patty didn’t press. He rarely did. But something in his posture told me he hadn’t liked how close Callum had come. And not because of jealousy. It was something else protective, maybe. Possessive, even. But never overt.

He walked to the small kitchen, took a glass from the shelf, and filled it with water. His movements were unhurried, but deliberate. Grounding.

“Thank you,” I said, though I didn’t know for what. For being calm when the night turned stormy. For not reacting like Callum did. For simply staying.

He passed me the glass, his fingers brushing mine.

“He doesn’t know who I am,” Patty said quietly.

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

“He knows something about me made him uncomfortable. That’s why he acted like that. He can’t explain it, but he felt it.”

That unease returned to my chest. “Are you dangerous?” I asked, voice low.

Patty met my eyes. “Would it matter to you if I was?”

I didn’t know how to answer that.

He didn’t wait for me to. “I’m here because I want to be. Not to prove anything. Not to play games. If that ever changes you’ll know. I’ll make sure of it.”

There it was again that strange comfort wrapped in mystery. He wasn’t like Callum. Callum had been explosive, urgent, always demanding something. Patty was quiet, steady and somehow far more dangerous without raising his voice.

I set the glass down and looked at him. “You don’t have to say all the right things.”

“I’m not,” he said simply. “I never do.”

A silence stretched between us, but this time, it wasn’t awkward. It pulsed with something deeper. Tension, maybe. Or attraction finally taking shape.

I took a step forward.

“You kissed me earlier.”

He tilted his head. “You didn’t seem to mind.”

“I didn’t,” I said.

This time, I kissed him.

His arms came around me gently at first, then tighter, as though he’d been waiting for permission to want me this way. There was nothing rushed about it. No urgency. Just presence him grounding me and unraveling me all at once.

I had no idea who he really was. But in that moment, I didn’t care.

We were interrupted again by the faint echo of a car pulling away in the distance. My heart skipped, and he felt it.

“Still nervous?” he asked.

“No,” I whispered. “Not with you.”

But that was only half the truth.

Because deep down, something had shifted. Callum may have left, but the mark he’d made lingered. Not because I still wanted him. But because he had walked into a life I was only beginning to understand myself.

And as I looked at Patty his calm gaze, his steady breathing, his hands still on my waist I realized something terrifying:

I wanted to fall.

But I had no idea what I was falling into.