Insight of a Kenyan Girl

The knock stopped, but the air didn’t settle.

Patty stood near the window, unmoving. His gun hung at his side, but he wasn’t posturing. He didn’t need to. His stillness was the threat.

Then came the voice — muffled but unmistakable.

“Open the door, Minnie. Please.”

I froze.

Callum.

He sounded winded, maybe nervous. But worse, he sounded sure of himself — like he thought this was bravery. Like he thought this was how he’d win me back.

Patty sighed. Not loud, but with that familiar tiredness — like a teacher watching a student cheat on an exam badly.

“You didn’t tell him to come?” he asked me softly.

“I haven’t spoken to him since that night.”

Patty nodded once, almost to himself. “Then this is going to be a little embarrassing… for him.”

He slid the curtain just slightly, then backed away from the window and holstered the gun behind him.

“You’re not going to open?” I asked.

“Oh, I am,” he said. “But not for his sake.”

When Patty opened the door, the night poured in — cool, thick with tension.

Callum stood just beyond the threshold. Dressed in black. Jaw tight. Hands twitching slightly.

And empty.

No weapon. No plan.

Just anger and some twisted idea of love.

“I’m not here to fight,” Callum said. “I just want to talk.”

Patty didn’t answer. He simply leaned against the doorframe, arms folded — relaxed in the way only people who don’t fear violence can be.

“You showed up in the middle of the night,” Patty said mildly. “Again. That’s not ‘talking.’ That’s rattling a cage.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Callum spat.

Patty raised an eyebrow. “You should be. But not because I’m dangerous. Because you’re out of your depth.”

Callum stepped forward, fists clenched. “She doesn’t know who you are.”

“No,” Patty agreed. “But you think you do. That’s the problem.”

I stepped forward. “Callum, go home.”

“I just needed to make sure you’re okay,” he said, voice cracking. “After everything, I deserve to know—”

“You deserve nothing,” I said. “You showed up again without being asked, without being wanted. You don’t get to play the concerned one after you disappeared when it mattered.”

His face twisted. “You’re choosing him over me?”

“I’m choosing peace over noise.”

Silence.

Then Patty, still calm, spoke again.

“Here’s the thing, Callum,” he said, voice like stone wrapped in silk. “You thought this was a movie scene. You thought showing up uninvited, in the dark, might make her miss you or fear for me. That you’d look like the man.”

He took a step forward — not threatening, but controlled.

“You didn’t realize what kind of man you were standing in front of.”

Callum blinked.

“You think you’re angry,” Patty continued. “But I don’t operate on anger. I operate on consequence. And trust me, the world I come from? Your little performance tonight wouldn’t even make the news.”

That shut Callum up.

Patty tilted his head. “Next time you want to feel powerful, try lifting something heavy. Not showing up where you’re not needed.”

Callum looked at me again. But the fire had dimmed. His posture slumped. His pride, once a storm, now just fog.

“This isn’t over,” he whispered again.

“No,” I said softly. “It ended the moment you stopped being someone I could count on.”

Patty didn’t touch him. Didn’t move.

But somehow, it was Callum who backed away.

Who left.

Who disappeared down the road like the night had swallowed his pride whole.

Patty closed the door quietly behind him.

We stood in the dark for a moment, just breathing.

Then I turned to him.

“You didn’t have to scare him.”

He looked at me. “I didn’t. That’s just who I am.”

I didn’t ask more. Not yet.

But I knew one thing: whatever world Patty came from, Callum didn’t belong there.

And now… maybe neither did I.