Insight of a Kenyan Girl

The day moved on, but the room hadn’t exhaled. Sunlight kept shifting across the table, tracing its way over Patty’s hand where it still rested on mine. He hadn’t moved, not in haste, not in retreat simply there, steady, like the world bent around him instead of the other way around.

“Eat,” he reminded softly, though he didn’t let go.

I lifted another forkful, more because of his gaze than hunger. The food was warm, untouched long enough to lose its sharp edges, but I barely tasted it. My body was here, my mind still circling the phone call—three percent, Jakarta, no delays. Words that could topple companies, maybe even lives, yet spoken as if he were deciding which tie to wear.

“Why do you let me hear it?” I asked, surprising even myself.

Patty tilted his head, as though considering whether to answer. Then his thumb brushed over my knuckles—just once, absentmindedly, almost tender. “Because, Minnie… you won’t run.”

I blinked at him. “You sound very sure of that.”

“I am.” His voice was low, steady. Not arrogance. Certainty.

Something in my chest pulled taut. Part of me wanted to prove him wrong to stand, to leave, to show him he couldn’t decide for me. But my legs stayed tucked beneath me, my hand stayed beneath his, and my eyes stayed locked on the man who was both anchor and storm.

The music shifted, jazz slipping into something slower, more languid. It filled the silence without softening it.

Patty released my hand only to rise, moving with that same deliberate calm that made every step feel like intention. He carried his mug to the sink, rinsed it, set it down, each motion unhurried but precise. Even in something so small, he was composed, unshaken.

I watched him, trying to reconcile the contradictions: the man who could break empires before noon, and the one who washed his own cup after coffee.

When he turned back, the light caught his face in sharp relief. He leaned against the counter, arms folded, eyes unreadable. “You still want to know who I am.”

It wasn’t a question.

I swallowed. “Would you tell me if I asked?”

A pause stretched. He studied me as though measuring the weight of the request, as though my asking was another kind of deal to be struck.

Finally, a ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Not today.”

And just like that, the balance tipped again mystery pressing close, danger humming beneath the ordinary hum of morning.

I should have felt afraid. Instead, I felt… claimed.