Dj Kynuh

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08/09/2025

Episode 74 – Page 74: The Return to Soil

Sunday morning. Early.

Cayden boarded a matatu leaving the city — no tinted windows, no driver waiting, just him and a small bag.

He was going home. Not the apartment. Not Nairobi. Home.

The village where Mary Wanjiku was born. Where she raised him before city life swallowed their years.

The ride was long and still. Gospel played faintly. Dust curled through open windows.

Out the window: acacia trees, goats by the roadside, kids chasing tyres.

When he arrived, the air smelled of wet soil and smoke.

An old mama at the kiosk squinted. “Cayden wa Wanjiku?”

He nodded. “Ndio. Just visiting.”

He made his way to the hillside. The cemetery was quiet — worn crosses, silence thick with memory.

He found her. Mary Wanjiku. His anchor. His storm. His calm.

He sat cross-legged beside the grave. No speeches. No tears. Just breath.

“I met him,” he whispered. “Still don’t know how I feel. But I came here first.”

A wind moved through the trees. Like approval. Like knowing.

And for the first time in years, Cayden felt... home.

08/09/2025

Episode 73 – Page 73: Quiet Streets, Loud Thoughts

Cayden walked home slowly. The city had a hush to it — that rare kind where even the matatus seemed to whisper.

He passed closed kiosks, blinking security lights, an old man humming by a gate.

His mind wasn’t racing. Just... turning gently.

Zoya’s laugh. Her silences. Her presence.

James’ letter still sat on his table at home, but tonight it didn’t feel as heavy.

Because now, there was something else growing beside it. A different kind of weight — softer, alive.

He got home, poured a glass of water, and stared out his own window.

No status updates. No deep quotes posted online.

Just breath. And the echo of a sentence she’d said: “Keep breathing.”

He whispered it now, like a prayer. Like a promise.

And for once, Cayden didn’t feel like a man running from his past.

He felt like a man — becoming.

08/09/2025

Episode 72 – Page 72: Not Saying, Still Meaning

Zoya yawned and stretched, her arm brushing Cayden’s lightly. Neither pulled away.

The documentary ended. Neither of them noticed when.

Cayden glanced at the time. “I should probably head out.”

Zoya nodded slowly. “Yeah. You’ve got empires to rebuild or something.”

He smiled. “Not anymore. Now I just have mornings to meet and people to not disappoint.”

She walked him to the door, flicking off the light as they passed. The apartment dimmed, wrapped in soft shadows.

At the doorway, they stood for a beat too long.

Cayden looked down at her hand near the frame. Close enough to hold. He didn’t. But he thought about it.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said.

Zoya shrugged playfully. “It was alright. You didn’t cry, so minus one point.”

He grinned. “Give me time.”

She opened the door for him. “I will.”

And as he stepped out into the quiet Nairobi night, Cayden realized something:

This wasn’t love yet.

But it was everything love was built from.

05/09/2025

Episode 71 – Page 71: The Becoming

The evening lingered, neither of them rushing it away.

Zoya brought over a soft fleece blanket and threw it at Cayden. “You look cold — or broody. Hard to tell.”

He chuckled, catching it. “Maybe both.”

They watched an old documentary on muted volume, occasionally throwing in dry commentary.

At one point, Cayden said, “Do you ever think we’re all just
 making it up as we go?”

Zoya didn’t hesitate. “Completely. But some of us pretend louder than others.”

He looked at her again — the comfort, the wit, the way she wasn’t trying to fix or impress.

“Being around you feels like exhaling,” he said.

She didn’t blush. Didn’t shrink. Just replied, “Then keep breathing.”

Outside, the night had taken full hold. The city lights were soft now. Blurred.

And in that small apartment, with lemon cake crumbs on the table and truth in the air, something unspoken stood up and made itself known.

Not romance. Not yet.

But the rare, raw possibility of it.

05/09/2025

Episode 70 – Page 70: Edges and Openings

They stood by the window a while longer, saying little. But something between them had shifted — like breath after holding it too long.

Cayden finally turned. “I wasn’t always like this, you know. I used to walk into rooms and own them. I used to matter
 loudly.”

Zoya tilted her head. “And now?”

“Now I’m learning to matter quietly.”

She smiled, that knowing kind that didn’t pity, just understood. “Maybe quiet is where the real weight lives.”

He sat back down, suddenly tired — not the kind sleep fixes, but the kind honesty brings.

“Can I ask you something personal?” he said.

Zoya nodded.

“Why haven’t you walked away from me?”

She didn’t answer right away. Just leaned against the frame of the window and said, “Because I see the version of you that’s still becoming.”

Cayden blinked — once, slowly.

“People stayed for who I was,” he murmured. “You’re staying for who I’m trying to be.”

Zoya gave him a soft look. “Exactly.”

05/09/2025

Episode 69 – Page 69: Unsaid Things

The sky outside had dimmed into that soft blue just before night fully takes over.

Zoya stood to open the window. A breeze drifted in — cool, earthy, alive.

Cayden watched her. Not like a man watching a woman. Like a soul recognizing steadiness.

She turned, caught his gaze. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said. Then after a pause, “No. But here
 I am.”

Zoya gave a half-smile. “Same.”

He stood, walked to the window beside her. The city blinked below — boda lights, laughter in pockets, life rolling on.

“You ever think about leaving all this?” he asked. “Starting over somewhere quiet?”

“Sometimes,” she said. “But then I remember — peace isn’t a place. It’s a practice.”

He looked at her — this woman who asked for nothing but gave so much just by being.

For a second, he wanted to reach out. To say something that didn’t yet have words.

Instead, he whispered, “Thank you.”

She didn’t ask for what. Just replied, “You’re welcome.”

And that was enough.

05/09/2025

Episode 68 – Page 68: Safe Rooms

Later, after tea and cake and quiet jazz, Cayden found himself lingering.

Not out of habit — but comfort.

Zoya lit a candle, tucked her legs beneath her, and asked, “What does he want from you?”

Cayden shrugged. “Time. Maybe peace. Maybe nothing. But it feels... strange. Like shaking hands with a shadow.”

She nodded. “You don’t owe him anything. Not even anger.”

That landed deep.

He looked around. Her space felt like something he hadn’t had in years — stillness without performance.

“You built this,” he said softly. “All of it. Without applause.”

Zoya smiled. “I don’t need applause. I just need peace. And people who don’t treat me like a mirror.”

Cayden leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I’m trying not to be that guy anymore.”

“I know,” she said.

They sat in silence — not romantic, not heavy — just real.

A different kind of intimacy. The kind built with presence, not promises.

02/09/2025

Episode 67 – Page 67: Lemon Cake & Gentle Company

The next afternoon, Cayden knocked on Zoya’s door, book in hand, nerves quiet but present.

She opened with a smirk. “You’re on time. That’s suspicious.”

“I respect cake schedules,” he replied.

Inside, her apartment was simple. Plants. Warm lighting. A vinyl player whispering old jazz in the corner.

She handed him a plate and motioned to the couch. “So? Did it ruin you emotionally like I promised?”

“The book or the cake?”

“Both.”

He grinned. “The book cracked me open. The cake’s about to finish the job.”

They sat. Ate. Let the silence stretch like something safe.

Eventually, Zoya asked, “You okay? You seem... further away today.”

Cayden hesitated. Then nodded. “Met someone. My father. For the first time.”

Her brows rose slightly, but she didn’t push. Just said, “And?”

“And nothing. Yet. But... it shook something loose.”

She looked at him, really looked. “Good. Some things need shaking before they settle.”

He breathed easier. Because she didn’t flinch. Didn’t rush to fix him.

She just stayed.

02/09/2025

Episode 66 – Page 66: Walking Away, Thinking Twice

Cayden left the café without looking back.

The sky was overcast, the air heavy with the kind of stillness that followed emotional weather.

He walked for an hour — no direction, just motion. Past flower vendors, boda riders, street preachers. None of it touched him.

His mind replayed James’ face. His words. That voice that sounded nothing like home.

But something else stirred beneath the tiredness. Not forgiveness. Not yet.

Just a crack in the wall.

Later that evening, Cayden sat on his balcony, flipping through the old photo album his mother had kept.

Mary smiling. Young. Holding baby Cayden. No man in sight.

And yet she looked whole. Unshaken.

He whispered to her photo, “I met him.”

The wind stirred. A single page turned.

Then his phone buzzed.

Zoya: “Tomorrow. Book swap? I made lemon cake too.”

He smiled. Just a little. Replied:
“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Because some roots
 were still choosing to grow.

31/08/2025

Episode 65 – Page 65: Between Two Silences

Cayden leaned back, arms crossed. He didn’t want tea. Or sympathy. Just clarity.

“Why now?” he asked. “Why me? After all this time?”

James looked older now. Not just in years — in regret.

“When your mother passed, something broke. I realized I’d built my entire life on distance. Success. Comfort. But no roots.”

Cayden’s jaw tightened. “You missed everything. My first fight. My first win. Her funeral.”

James didn’t flinch. “I know. I carry that. Every day.”

The waiter passed by. Cayden waved him off. The air between them stayed still, taut.

“I didn’t come here to fix anything,” James said finally. “I just wanted to meet the man you became.”

Cayden looked at him — really looked. This wasn’t a villain.

It was just a man. Flawed. Aging. Haunted.

And somehow, that made it worse.

“I’m still deciding if I want you to be anything more than a name,” Cayden said.

James nodded slowly. “That’s fair. But I’ll be here. If ever.”

And for the first time, Cayden didn’t feel angry. Just
 tired.

31/08/2025

Episode 64 – Page 64: The Man at the Window

The cafĂ© was quiet. Morning light filtered through lace curtains. Classical music played faintly in the background — foreign, distant.

Cayden stepped in, scanning. Then he saw him.

James Ellison.

Grey hair. Sharp suit, but worn at the cuffs. Hands folded around a ceramic mug like he needed the warmth more than the caffeine.

Their eyes met. No smile. Just recognition.

Cayden walked over. Sat down. Silence lingered for a moment too long.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” James said softly. British accent still crisp.

“I almost didn’t,” Cayden replied.

James nodded, like he understood too well. “You look like her.”

Cayden didn’t answer.

“I was a coward,” James continued. “I loved her. But I left. And she raised you without ever making me the villain.”

“That’s because she didn’t waste breath on ghosts,” Cayden said, voice low.

James looked down. “I deserved that.”

Another silence.

But this time, it wasn’t empty.

It was full of 30 years of ache.

31/08/2025

Episode 63 – Page 63: Blood and Distance

The letter sat on Cayden’s kitchen table for two days. Unmoved. Unspoken of.

He stared at it over tea, over leftover ugali, over silence.

He remembered Mary — his mother — strong-willed, proud, unshaken by absence. She never spoke ill of James Ellison.

She simply said, “Some people choose escape over courage.”

Now that man wanted to talk.

Cayden didn’t know whether to laugh or scream.

He typed a reply. Deleted it. Wrote it again. Sat with it.

Eventually, he sent just one sentence:

> “You get one conversation. No promises.”

The reply came hours later. Simple directions. A quiet café in Karen.

The next day, Cayden told no one. Not Tito. Not Zoya.

He dressed simply. No mask, no ego.

As he left the house, he looked at his reflection — and for a moment, he wondered:

Was he about to meet a man
 or the shadow that shaped his absence?

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