SHADOWS OF THE PAST

The first time Makena met Brandon, they were both ten years old. It was at his mother's funeral, a somber and quiet affair that was talked about in hushed whispers throughout the small town. Makena had heard her parents discussing the scandal surrounding the deceased woman, how she had left to study abroad only to return home with a child and no husband.

"She was a tainted woman," her father, Melvin, had said with a sneer, his disdain cutting through the warm glow of their dinner table candlelight.

Makena's mother, Njeri, had merely nodded in agreement, her lips pursed. "A coward, too. Took the easy way out."

At ten, Makena had only vaguely understood their words, but she knew better than to question them. Her father was a wise man, revered by many, a successful lawyer who had built his reputation on integrity and loyalty to his people. He detested those who fraternized with the very colonizers who had once oppressed them. And by extension, he despised Brandon's family.

The funeral had been starkly different from the one they had held for Makena's grandfather. While her grandfather's ceremony had been a grand affair, attended by droves of mourners, Brandon's mother's funeral was a quiet, almost reluctant gathering. Brandon's grandfather, a wealthy but distant man, didn't even move through the crowd to thank those who had attended.

And then there was Brandon himself—light-skinned, his curls wild and unkempt, his face blotchy and red from crying. He had been alone, isolated, even as other children whispered behind his back.

Makena, always bold, had approached him. "You look really ugly."

Brandon had lifted his swollen eyes to hers, his voice raspy from sobbing. "You're uglier with your missing teeth."

Makena had recoiled. No one had ever called her ugly before. Furious, she had shot back, "My father says I'm beautiful, just like my mother."

Brandon's lips had curled into a humorless smile. "Your father is famous for his lies."

Makena had been too stunned to reply as Brandon turned away from her, leaving her seething. How dare he insult her father? Her father, who was loved and respected by so many?

That day, Makena resolved to hate Brandon.

Three years later, Makena had all but forgotten the strange, bitter boy from that funeral. Until, by some cruel twist of fate, they ended up in the same class in high school.

The moment she saw him, something in her stomach twisted. He had changed. He was taller, his features sharper, his hair still unruly but cut shorter. But his expression was the same—distant, detached, and uninterested in the people around him.

Determined to be cordial, Makena approached him, her father's lessons on social appearances echoing in her mind.

"Hi, Brandon," she greeted, forcing a polite smile.

He didn't look up.

"Do you remember me? Our families know each other."

Brandon finally lifted his gaze from his phone, meeting her eyes with a mocking tilt of his head. "Is that what you were told?"

Makena frowned. "What do you mean?"

He exhaled sharply, as if she was exhausting him already. "Did your parents tell you they were friends with my family?"

Makena hesitated. "Well... yes. Our parents do business together."

Brandon's lips twitched into a smirk. "You truly are still an idiot."

With that, he locked his phone and walked past her, leaving Makena standing there, heat rising to her face. She clenched her fists, swallowing down the retort burning on her tongue.

From that day on, they kept their distance. Makena told herself she didn't care. Brandon was insufferable, cold, and dismissive. He wasn't worth her time.

But then came the day that changed everything.

It was a rainy afternoon when Makena found herself cornered.

She had stayed behind after school to help one of her teachers organize books in the library, not realizing how late it had gotten. By the time she stepped outside, the corridors were nearly empty.

That was when she saw them—three senior boys lounging near the school gate. Their eyes flicked to her, sharp and assessing. Makena ignored the unease curling in her stomach and kept walking, her footsteps quickening.

"Hey, Makena," one of them called out.

She stiffened. She knew them—Eric, Daniel, and Mike. They were trouble.

"Where are you rushing to?" Daniel smirked, blocking her path.

Makena forced a polite smile. "I have to get home."

"Come on, don't be like that," Eric said, stepping closer. "It's just a little fun."

A shiver ran down her spine. "Move."

Mike grabbed her wrist. "We just want to talk."

Panic surged in her chest. She tried to yank her arm back, but his grip tightened.

Then, a voice cut through the tension. "Let her go."

Brandon.

He stood a few feet away, hands shoved in his pockets, expression unreadable. The air shifted.

Eric scoffed. "Mind your business, half-blood."

Brandon's jaw ticked. "I said, let her go."

Mike hesitated but released her wrist. Makena immediately stepped back, rubbing at her skin.

Daniel sneered. "Or what?"

Brandon tilted his head, his tone eerily calm. "Try me."

Something about the way he said it made the older boys hesitate. Brandon had always been quiet, but there was a sharpness in his voice, an edge of something dangerous.

Finally, Eric clicked his tongue. "Whatever. Let's go."

They walked away, laughing under their breath. Makena exhaled shakily, her heart still pounding.

Brandon turned to her, his expression unreadable. "You okay?"

She swallowed, nodding. "Yeah."

For a moment, they just stood there. Then, to her surprise, she muttered, "Thank you."

Brandon shrugged, slipping his hands back into his pockets. "Don't mention it."

And just like that, he walked away.

Makena watched him go, a strange mix of emotions swirling inside her.

Maybe, just maybe, Brandon wasn't as easy to hate as she once thought.

That night, as she lay in bed, Makena found herself replaying the events of the afternoon. The way Brandon had stood up for her. The sharp, dangerous confidence in his voice. The way the bullies had backed down.

She turned onto her side, staring at the ceiling.

Why had he helped her?

She didn't know, but for the first time in years, she found herself wanting to understand him.