Unloading His Burdens

The Weight of Blood

Jack Wepukhulu stood in the dimly lit hallway of his apartment, his reflection staring back at him from a cracked mirror. His charcoal-gray suit was slightly rumpled now, the crispness of the previous day worn away by sleepless hours and the weight of his thoughts. His tie hung loose around his neck, the deep maroon now a dark s***h against his white shirt. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his piercing eyes narrowing as he studied himself. The man in the mirror looked like a stranger—someone burdened, someone haunted. Someone who had just become a father.

“Jack,” Wanjiru’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and impatient. She stood in the doorway of the small bedroom, Kiano cradled in her arms. The baby was quiet for once, his tiny face peaceful as he slept. “Are you just going to stand there all day? Or are you going to help me figure out how we’re going to do this?” Jack turned slowly, his movements deliberate, like a predator sizing up its prey. His lips curled into a smirk, but there was no warmth in it. “Do what, exactly? Play happy family? You knew what you were getting into, Wanjiru. Don’t act surprised now.”

Wanjiru’s eyes flashed with anger, but she bit back her retort, rocking Kiano gently. “This isn’t about us, Jack. It’s about him. He didn’t ask for this.” Jack’s smirk faded, replaced by a cold, calculating expression. “No, he didn’t. But here we are. So, what’s your brilliant plan? Because I’m not exactly the nurturing type.”

Wanjiru opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, a loud knock at the door interrupted them. Jack’s eyes flicked toward the sound, his body tensing. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Jack opened the door to find his younger sister, Nasimiyu, standing on the doorstep, her arms crossed and her expression unimpressed. Behind her stood his uncle, Ole Sankei, a tall, imposing figure with a face carved from stone. Nasimiyu’s eyes immediately darted past Jack, landing on Wanjiru and the baby.

“So, it’s true,” Nasimiyu said, pushing past Jack into the apartment. “You actually had a baby. I thought Mama was exaggerating.” Jack closed the door with a sigh, his patience already wearing thin. “Nice to see you too, Nasimiyu. Make yourself at home.” Ole Sankei stepped inside, his sharp eyes scanning the room before settling on Jack. “You’ve been gone too long, nephew. Your mother is worried. And now this?” He gestured toward Kiano, his tone heavy with disapproval.

Jack’s jaw tightened, but he forced a smile, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Ah, yes. Because nothing says ‘family reunion’ like an unannounced visit and a lecture. What do you want, Uncle?” Ole Sankei’s expression didn’t change, but his voice grew colder. “We’re here because you’ve brought shame to this family. A child out of wedlock? Do you have any idea what people will say?”

Jack let out a bitter laugh, his eyes glinting with defiance. “Shame? Really? That’s what you’re worried about? Not the fact that I have a son to take care of? Not the fact that I’m trying to figure out how to make this work? No, of course not. It’s all about appearances, isn’t it?” Nasimiyu stepped forward, her hands on her hips. “Don’t act like you’re the victim here, Jack. You’re the one who got yourself into this mess. Now you have to deal with the consequences.”

Jack’s smile turned dangerous, his voice low and menacing. “Oh, I’ll deal with it. But not because you or anyone else tells me to. I’ll do it my way.”

The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Wanjiru, who had been quietly observing the exchange, finally spoke up. “This isn’t helping anyone. If you’re here to judge, you can leave. We have enough to deal with as it is.”

Ole Sankei’s gaze shifted to Wanjiru, his expression softening slightly. “This child is family now. We will do what we must to support him. But you,” he said, turning back to Jack, “need to take responsibility. No more running away.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen. It was a message from an unknown number: “We need to talk. Meet me at the usual place. – O.” Jack’s heart skipped a beat. O. Otieno. His old business partner—and the man who had betrayed him years ago. What could he possibly want now?

Later that evening, Jack found himself at a secluded bar in the industrial area of Nairobi. The place was dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke. Otieno sat at a corner table, a glass of whiskey in hand. He looked older, his once-sharp features softened by time, but his eyes still held the same cunning glint.

“Jack,” Otieno said, raising his glass in a mock toast. “It’s been a while.”

Jack slid into the seat across from him, his expression unreadable. “Cut the crap, Otieno. What do you want?”

Otieno chuckled, setting his glass down. “Straight to the point, as always. I like that. I heard about your… situation. A son, huh? Congratulations.”

Jack’s eyes darkened, his voice low and dangerous. “If you’ve come here to mock me, you’re wasting your time.”

“Not at all,” Otieno said, leaning forward. “I’m here to make you an offer. A business opportunity. One that could change your life.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. “Go on.”

“There’s a piece of land in Ngong,” Otieno explained. “Prime real estate. I’ve already secured the permits, but I need a partner to help develop it. Affordable housing for the middle class. It’s a goldmine, Jack. And I want you in on it.” Jack studied him carefully, his mind racing. Otieno had betrayed him once before, but this… this could be his chance to build something real. Something for Kiano.

“Why me?” Jack asked, his voice steady. Otieno smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “Because you’re ruthless, Jack. And in this business, that’s exactly what I need.” Jack leaned back in his chair, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Alright, Otieno. I’m in. But if you double-cross me again, you’ll regret it.” Otieno’s smile didn’t waver. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As Jack left the bar, his phone buzzed again. This time, it was a message from Wanjiru: “We need to talk. It’s about Kiano.” Jack’s heart sank. What now? He quickly dialed her number, but before she could answer, a black SUV pulled up beside him. The window rolled down, revealing a familiar face—a face he hadn’t seen in years.

“Get in,” the man said, his voice cold and commanding. “We have a lot to discuss.” Jack hesitated, his mind racing. This was no coincidence. Someone was pulling strings, and he was just a pawn in their game. But if there was one thing Jack Wepukhulu hated, it was being played. He got into the car, his eyes glinting with determination. Whatever was coming, he would be ready.