CHARLES 17
1467 Words
THINGS LEFT UNSPOKEN **
It was raining again when Detective Han showed up.
Kai answered the door, surprised to see the almost ageing man standing under the porch light, his trench coat soaked, his expression as unreadable as always.
“Detective,” Kai said, stepping aside. “We weren’t expecting you.”
“Yeah, I won’t take long,” Han replied, stepping into the apartment. “I just need to speak with Miss Okoye.”
Kai hesitated. “She’s not in a good state right now.”
Han looked him straight in the eye. “Neither is the case.”
---
Amara was curled on the couch, arms folded tightly across her chest. Her hair was uncombed, her eyes hollow. She looked smaller somehow, like someone had shrunk her spirit and left only the shell behind.
“Miss Okoye,” Han began gently. “How are you holding up?”
She didn’t answer.
He sighed and sat on the opposite armrest. “I’m sorry to disturb you. But we need to go over some things… again.”
Amara slowly met his gaze.
“You mentioned the man at the party,” he continued, flipping open a small notebook. “The one Kai punched after he tried to force you to dance?”
She nodded.
“We’ve traced some footage,” Han said. “That man is likely affiliated with a street gang operating near the Red District. Notorious for violent retaliation.” He paused. “But that’s what bothers me.”
“What do you mean?” Amara asked, voice dry.
“If they came for you,” Han said, eyes narrowing, “why didn’t they kill you? Why Jane?”
"I mean, I know Jane was standing in their way, maybe that was why they killed her. Then why spare you?
These guys are not just some scared gangs in the movies.
Amara’s breath caught.
Kai, who had stayed in the doorway silently, shifted his weight. His shoulders tensed.
“I’ve seen vengeance crimes in the past.” Han continued. “And usually, they don’t stop until the target is been neutralised. So, if you were the one they wanted—why didn’t they finish the job?”
Amara blinked rapidly, her lips trembling. “—I-I don’t know.”
Han nodded slowly. “Something doesn’t add up. But we'll figure that out.”
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, the detective softened his tone. “Miss Okoye, have you considered trauma therapy?”
Her head turned sharply toward him.
“This isn’t just about the case anymore. I’ve seen too many survivors fall apart after something like this. The nightmares. The guilt. The dissociation. You’re walking the edge.”
“I don’t need a therapist,” Amara said hoarsely.
“I’m not asking,” Han replied. “I’m advising. Strongly. If you don’t, we’ll be forced to assign a mandatory psychological review. The kind that lands you in a monitored rehab facility.”
That caught her attention.
Kai stepped forward. “She’s doing better. Slowly.”
Han glanced at him. “I hope so. For her sake.”
He stood and closed his notebook. “We’ll be in touch.
And please stay safe, call when you need me.”
---
Later That Night
The rain hadn't stopped.
Kai sat alone in the living room, the soft glow of the TV painting faint colours across his face. Some random K-drama was playing, but he wasn’t watching it. Not really.
He couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Not since he heard her muffled cries through the wall. Not since that phone call with her mother had she shattered all over again.
He knew it now—knew it like the weight of a secret pressed against his ribs:
He loved her.
Or he almost did. He wasn't sure.
Not in the simple, romantic way. It was messier than that. Darker. It lived in the way he woke at night when she screamed. In how he found himself outside her door, pacing like a restless beast, wanting to go in—but never sure if he had the right.
It terrified him.
He hadn’t even said the words out loud.
---
Then he heard it—soft footsteps.
He turned, startled to see her.
Amara stood in the hallway, her pyjamas clinging to her body slightly, and she had been crying —he wasn’t sure. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself.
She looked so… lost.
“Kai,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I can’t sleep.” She sobbed uncontrollably.
He got up immediately. “Come.”
He crossed slowly, every part of him reaching for her. He didn’t speak again. And she just collapsed into his arms.
Her body was trembling.
Kai wrapped his arms around her, one hand gently cradling the back of her head. “I’ve got you.”
She sobbed quietly into his chest. He guided her to the couch, sitting with her tucked into his side, her legs curled up as if making herself smaller could ease the ache.
They stayed like that for a long time.
Kai stroked her hair slowly. “You’re safe now,” he murmured.
But even he didn’t believe it.
He felt the storm in her—the way her trauma didn’t just live in her mind anymore, but had crept into her bones. The way her body flinched when touched too suddenly. The way her eyes never stayed still for long. She was haunted.
And he…
He was falling so hard it hurt to breathe.
She’ll never be okay if you leave her now, his mind whispered. She’ll fall apart.
And so he decided.
He’d take care of her.
Whatever it took.
Even if it broke him.
Even if he had to keep lying about Jane.
Even if someday, the truth came crashing down.
He kissed the top of her head gently.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you again,” he whispered.
And that night, as the rain poured heavier outside, Kai sat in the dark, holding the woman he loved.
A woman who didn’t yet know just how far he’d go to protect her.
Even from himself.
Then, just as her breathing started to slow into that soft rhythm of half-sleep, she stirred.
“Kai…” she whispered, voice thick and fragile.
“I’m here.”
She pulled slightly back, resting her cheek on his lap but looking up at him. Her eyes were still red, barely open. But what she said next knocked the breath out of him.
“I think… I should go back to Nigeria.”
Kai stiffened slightly.
“Why?” he asked softly, trying to keep his voice from trembling.
“I just… I don’t belong here anymore,” she murmured. “I feel cursed. Like I brought all this on everyone. Maybe if I go home… maybe it’ll stop.”
His chest tightened.
She shook her head slowly, her voice barely audible. “Jane died because of me. My mum doesn’t want me, she called me a prostitute, Everything I touch breaks, Kai. You… you should hate me too.”
He pulled her closer.
“Stop,” he said, firm but gentle. “You don’t get to erase all the light you’ve brought because of the darkness that found you.” He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, but he couldn't find the words.
Her lips quivered.
He ran a hand down her back slowly, grounding her.
He remembered how they made love in her apartment, and how her body felt the same.
He loved her, and it had to be her alone.
“You remember what you told me the first week you got here?” he whispered.
She blinked, dazed.
“You said—‘ You were going to graduate, start your business firm, make something out of yourself … and you were going to prove to everyone back home that you were not a waste.’” He looked into her eyes. “You believed that once. Let me believe it now—for you.”
Tears spilled again.
He cradled her face in his hand. “Ama, I know you’re tired. I know everything hurts. But don’t leave just because it’s heavy. Stay… let's help you carry it.”
Her lips parted slightly, her breath hitching.
“I don’t know if I can,” she whispered.
“You can, you already have. Every day you wake up, you win.”
She exhaled shakily, a sob caught in her throat.
Then slowly… she nodded.
And nestled back into his arms, wrapping herself around him like he was the only solid ground left.
“I’m scared,” she confessed.
“So am I,” he whispered.
But he didn’t let go.
Not that night.
Not again.
- Writer
