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Chapter 10: Market Morning
The house felt hollow that morning.
The guests had all left. The chatter, footsteps, and clinking of cutlery that had filled every corner of the mansion the past few days had died down. Even the air felt still — thick with the kind of silence that made small sounds feel too loud.
In the kitchen, the head cook was grumbling.
"There's no amani," she muttered, flipping through a tray of dried peppers. "How can we make proper palm nut soup without the herring?"
Esi stood nearby, hands idle, watching the morning light spill across the counter.
"I can go," she said suddenly.
The room turned to her.
"You?" one of the younger maids asked. "Go to the market?"
She nodded. "I just want some air."
The cook hesitated, then shrugged. "If you insist. Go early before the sun bites your face off."
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Outside, the streets buzzed with colour and life. The scent of smoked fish, roasted corn, and sweat hung in the air. Esi clutched the small market basket and walked quickly, scanning the crowd for any familiar faces — not that she expected to find any.
She found the herring stall easily — fresh amani laid out neatly in rows, glinting in the sun.
She was paying when she felt someone beside her.
"You picked the best stall," a voice said.
Esi turned. A young woman stood next to her, holding a bunch of kontomire and chewing softly on sugarcane.
She had a bright scarf tied carelessly around her head and eyes that didn't miss much.
"You're not from here," the girl said, more like an observation than a question.
"I live nearby."
"The big house?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.
Esi raised an eyebrow. "Yes."
The girl grinned. "I'm Araba."
"Esi."
"Come. I'll walk with you. The road can be tricky if you take the wrong turn."
Esi hesitated, then nodded. There was something easy about Araba — a kind of street-wisdom that didn't try too hard.
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As they walked, Araba chattered about food prices, and how the fried plantains these days were never sweet enough.
Esi listened more than she spoke.
When they reached the edge of the compound wall, Araba slowed.
"You can take it from here," she said lightly.
"Thank you."
"No problem. Maybe I'll see you again."
Esi smiled. "Maybe."
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Inside, Esi stepped through the gate just as Kwabena was descending the side steps, dressed neatly, his phone in hand. He looked up at the sound of her arrival.
"You went out?"
"To the market," Esi replied. She lifted the basket. "They needed herring."
Kwabena's eyes flicked to the street behind her. "Who was that girl?"
"Araba. I met her at the market."
His face shifted slightly — something unreadable. "Do you know her?"
"No. She offered to walk with me."
Kwabena nodded slowly. "Just be careful who you talk to around here. Not everyone is… harmless."
Esi didn't respond. She just watched him walk past.
She wasn't sure who she was supposed to be careful of anymore — the strangers… or the ones inside the house.
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