Chapter 13 – The Note
After their quiet meal in the late morning, the mansion slipped into its usual hum—low voices, distant footsteps, and the rustle of curtains swaying in the breeze. Kwabena had left shortly after, saying he needed to check on one of his project sites nearby. Esi nodded, not asking for details.
With him gone, the house suddenly felt larger. Emptier.
Esi wandered through the quiet corridors, unsure what to do with herself. Eventually, she stepped outside into the back garden, drawn by the silence. It was late, but the moon was rising gently, casting a silver glow over the house.
She looked around.
The garden was surprisingly beautiful. Flowers bloomed neatly, trimmed hedges curved around soft pathways, and orange trees swayed gently in the night breeze. There was even a small white bench near a fountain—straight out of a foreign magazine.
She murmured to herself, "Ei... a Ghanaian man living like this? This is not small money oo. This place dey feel like abroad."
She chuckled lightly, brushing her fingers across the petals of a rose.
Then something caught her eye.
A small folded note. Tucked gently beneath a flat stone at the edge of the tree garden.
Her heart skipped.
She looked around. The gate was closed. No footsteps. No sound.
She bent down and picked it up.
> "Tonight. 12:00 a.m. Behind the orange tree. Come alone. — A."
Her fingers trembled. Akoto.
But how? How did this even get here?
She stood up slowly, scanning the shadows, but everything was still. Too still. She tucked the note into her waistband, heart thudding in her chest.
Back in the house, time dragged.
She tried to sleep, but her mind wouldn't settle. The words on the paper replayed like a whisper. Eventually, she glanced at the clock.
9:20 p.m.
Just then, she heard his voice.
Kwabena was back.
She stayed in her room as his voice floated up the stairs. "Has she eaten?" he asked.
"No, sir," one of the maids answered. "She hasn't touched anything after eating the fufu."
A few minutes later, there was a soft knock at her door.
"Esi?"
She didn't answer immediately. Her voice came quiet, "Yes?"
He stepped in with a tray—fried eggs and tea.
I'm not hungry I'm fine she said.
"I know you said you're fine," he said gently, "but fine people still eat."
She smiled faintly and sat up, reaching for the tea. "Thank you."
He gave her a small nod and turned to go. "Goodnight, Esi."
"Goodnight," she replied softly, watching the door close behind him.
She sipped the tea slowly, the warmth steadying her hands.
Then came the silence.
Thick. Waiting.
FOR
12:00 a.m.