The beginning
The afternoon heat had reached its peak when the 3:40 p.m. closing bell of St. Jude’s Senior Academy rang through the stifling air.
Almost instantly, the school dissolved into chaos.
Blue uniforms flooded through the gates, students laughing and shouting as they hurried toward the matatu stage, the nearby juice shops, and the waiting streets of Nairobi. The orderly silence of the classrooms disappeared beneath the rumble of traffic and the voices of hundreds of teenagers eager to get home.
Natalie adjusted her backpack and continued walking at her usual unhurried pace. She glanced down at her blue skirt, smoothing the heavy pleats where her bag had caught them.
Unlike most of her classmates, she wasn't rushing.
She didn't join the noisy groups heading toward the matatu stage. Instead, she walked past the school gates and turned onto the quieter sidewalk that led toward the residential estates.
A few paces behind her, a shadow stretched across the dusty pavement.
"Hey, Natalie! Wait up!"
She recognized the voice before turning.
Kevin and Brian were jogging toward her, two of the loudest and most popular boys in the senior block. They had been trying to get her attention since third period, throwing casual jokes and comments across the classroom.
They were the kind of boys who moved through school as though they owned every room they entered—laughing loudly, teasing everyone, and carrying the effortless confidence of boys who assumed every girl in Form Four noticed them.
Natalie slowed but didn't stop.
"Hi," she said politely.
"You're always walking off so fast," Kevin said, falling into step beside her. His tie was already loose around his neck. "We're heading to the arcade at the junction. Come with us."
Natalie gave him a small smile.
"I have to get home."
Her voice was gentle, but there was no uncertainty in it.
Before Kevin could insist, another figure caught up with them.
Antony.
Unlike Kevin and Brian, Antony never seemed to need attention.
He moved quietly, almost unnoticed, his blue school jacket neatly buttoned and his backpack hanging from one shoulder. His eyes were usually focused on the ground or the traffic ahead of them. He was part of Kevin and Brian's circle, but he never seemed interested in competing with them for the spotlight.
"Leave her alone, man," Antony said quietly.
Kevin looked at him.
"She said she's going home."
Kevin laughed and punched Antony lightly on the shoulder.
"Ah, look at the bodyguard."
He raised his hands in surrender.
"Fine. We're heading to the junction. See you guys tomorrow."
He and Brian ran across the tarmac toward a waiting matatu, leaving Natalie and Antony behind in the sudden quiet.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then they continued walking.
They lived in neighboring gated estates, about twenty minutes apart on foot. Their route took them beneath old jacaranda trees and along quiet roads lined with high compound walls.
They walked this way every day.
It had never been discussed.
There had been no agreement, no promise, and no moment when either of them had officially decided they would walk home together.
It had simply become their routine.
They walked side by side, always leaving roughly a foot of space between them.
Antony never tried to fill the silence with meaningless conversation like Kevin did. He was quiet by nature, carrying his thoughts with him like a shield.
But Natalie noticed things.
She noticed how he always moved toward the outside of the pavement, placing himself between her and the traffic whenever a vehicle came too close.
She noticed how he slowed his naturally longer strides so that she never had to hurry to keep up.
She noticed how he remembered the smallest things she said.
What she didn't know was that Antony looked forward to those twenty minutes every single day.
He didn't know how to tell her that his quietness around her wasn't indifference. It was the opposite.
It was his attempt to hide how quickly his heart beat whenever her hand accidentally brushed against his sleeve.
And Antony didn't know that Natalie had begun noticing things too.
The shape of his hands.
The low, calm cadence of his voice.
The way the afternoon sunlight caught the edge of his neatly buttoned school jacket.
She didn't understand it yet.
She only knew that being beside him felt different.
Natalie was capable of absolute loyalty. When she gave someone her trust, she gave it completely.
And quietly, without either of them saying a word about what was happening between them, she was beginning to fall in love.
Completely.
Blindly.
The year was 2019, and neither of them knew how much their lives were about to change.
The neat rows of townhouses in Antony's estate soon came into view. A high concrete wall topped with broken glass separated the compound from the main road, while a heavy black gate stood guarded at the entrance.
This was where their shared walk ended.
Natalie slowed as they approached the pedestrian entrance.
"My dad brought home some blueprints last night," Antony said, his fingers tracing the worn strap of his backpack.
"He’s working on a residential development in Syokimau. He sits at the dining table with his T-square and tracing paper until midnight."
Natalie listened.
"He keeps saying the independent architecture firms are getting squeezed out by the big Chinese contractors."
There was something different in Antony's voice when he spoke about his father.
Respect.
Worry.
Pride.
Natalie nodded.
"It's hard. My dad says the same thing about his engineering firm."
She adjusted the strap of her backpack.
"He spends half his weekends out on site in Kajiado checking foundations. And when he's home, my mum is buried under a mountain of grading."
Antony smiled.
"She's a teacher, right?"
"Yes. Sometimes I think she forgets she's not at school anymore."
He laughed softly.
"At least your dad builds things that last."
Natalie looked at him.
"An architect just draws the dream," Antony continued. "If the client changes their mind, it's just wasted paper."
He paused.
"That's why I want to do civil engineering. Like your father."
His expression became.
