THE KNOCK AFTER MIDNIGHT
1076 Words
CHAPTER 4
Nelson became close to my brother before he became close to me.
It started with football in the evenings, my brother growing comfortable around him. He carried himself like someone dependable.
Somehow, I was drawn in, too.
We began talking more.
Visiting each other’s rooms.
Learning small things—what we liked, where we came from. That was when I found out he was from my hometown.
The discovery felt familiar, comforting. Like something that made sense.
That was why it caught me off guard when he asked me out.
“I like you,” Nelson said one afternoon in his apartment.
“I want us to be more.”
“I’m not interested,” I replied immediately.
“I don’t feel that way.”
He didn’t stop.
He asked again the next day. And again.
Each time, I said no—clear, firm.
One day, tired and frustrated, I warned him.
“If you ask me again,” I said, “we’ll become enemies.”
He laughed like I wasn’t serious.
Then, one afternoon, while we were talking, he leaned in suddenly and tried to kiss me.
I pushed him away at once.
“What are you doing?” I shouted.
The room changed instantly.
“You’re sending mixed signals,” he said defensively.
“I told you no,” I replied, shaking. “Over and over again.”
The argument escalated quickly—voices raised, words thrown carelessly. Anger replaced familiarity.
“Stay away from me,” I said finally. “And stay away from my brother too.”
I meant every word.
After that day, Nelson stayed away.
He didn’t come around anymore. He didn’t play with my brother. He didn’t look in our direction when our paths crossed. The distance was deliberate, and I was relieved it was. At least he had respected what I said. At least it hadn’t gone further.
Two days passed.
On the third evening, I returned from church with my brother. The compound felt unusually calm, like everything had settled into place. I ate quietly, more out of routine than hunger, then lay down to rest.
***
Sometime past midnight, I woke up.
The room was silent. Too silent.
I checked the time, and my head felt clearer. I reached for my book and began to read, trying to settle my thoughts.
Then came a loud knock.
I froze.
Another knock—harder this time.
I checked the time.
Past 1 a.m.
“What’s going on?” I whispered to myself, my heart pounding as I stared at the door.
Who knocks at this hour?
“Who’s there?” I asked, my voice very steady.
There was a pause. Then—
“Petra.”
I knew the voice immediately.
“Nathan?”
Relief came first. Confusion followed closely behind it.
I opened the door.
It was Nathan
He stood there casually, hands in his pockets, looking like the hour didn’t matter at all.
“What’s up?” I asked, lowering my voice. “What are you doing here at this time of the night?”
“I’m okay,” he said quickly. “I just wanted to check in on you.”
Then he added, more carefully, “And I want to ask you something serious.”
That caught my attention.
For a second, my mind went elsewhere.
Nathan wasn’t a stranger to me at all.
If anything, he was one of the people I was most comfortable around. We talked easily—about home, about school, about games, about nothing in particular. Sometimes, he would hand me his phone and say, “Watch this one. You’ll like it.” And I would.
Movies became our easy thing.
He teased a lot. Called me Fine Girl in a way that felt casual, almost brotherly. People saw it and didn’t think much of it. Neither did I. Nathan never crossed any lines. Never made anything awkward.
He and my brother were close too. That mattered to me.
We could talk about anything. Even relationship topics in the abstract. He knew I had never dated before. I never felt the need to guard myself around him.
So when I heard his voice outside my door that night, fear wasn’t my first thought.
Confusion was.
It was past one in the morning. Nathan didn’t step fully inside. He stayed by the door, his posture relaxed, but his eyes were alert.
“Petra,” he said quietly, “I need you to tell me the truth.”
I frowned. “About what?”
He paused. “Are you still a virgin?”
The question caught me off guard, but I answered immediately.
“Yes. I am.”
He nodded once, then asked, almost casually,
“And you’ve never had anything intimate with Nelson?”
I stared at him. A short, awkward laugh slipped out.
“What? No. Never,” I said. “Why would you even ask me something like that?”
There was a brief silence.
“Can you swear,” he asked
“Yes, why are you asking me this?” I continued, confused now. “I don’t understand this question about virginity and Nelson. Why are you asking me that kind of thing?”
Nathan looked away slightly and murmured, so softly it almost sounded like he was talking to himself.
“Why would Nelson say that kind of thing…”
I stiffened. “What?”
He didn’t repeat himself.
“Excuse you?” I pressed. “What are you saying? Talk to me.”
He shook his head lightly as if brushing it off.
“It’s nothing,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Come on,” I insisted. “Tell me. What did you hear?”
He took a step back.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he said. “By dawn.”
“Nathan—”
But he had already turned away.
“Don’t think too much,” he added, his voice softer now. “We’ll talk later.”
He walked off, leaving me standing there.
I closed the door slowly and leaned against it, my heart beating louder.
I walked back to my bed but didn’t sit. I stood there, arms folded, staring at nothing.
What could he have said?
Why would my name even come up?
Why would virginity be mentioned at all?
I picked up my phone. I wanted to call Nelson, but I tried to be patient.
- Writer
