CHAPTER 20 – "Lines Between Us"
As soon as they entered the mansion, one of the maids squealed lightly from the corner of the corridor.
"Ei! Madam Esi, see beauty oo. The braids alone can win best African woman!"
Esi smiled bashfully. "Oh, you people…"
Kwabena chuckled from behind. "Didn't I tell you? I've been saying it since the salon."
Another younger maid leaned in with a playful smirk.
Esi rolled her eyes, but the blush was already rising on her cheeks.
They moved toward the dining area where a hot meal of rice and stew with ripe plantain waited. As they sat to eat, the teasing died down and a gentler silence took its place. It wasn't awkward… it was something else. Like an understanding neither of them had signed, but both were living.
"I'll start your sketch tonight," Esi said quietly, between mouthfuls.
Kwabena blinked. "You don't waste time, eh?"
She nodded. "If I delay, the inspiration might vanish."
He grinned. "Then let's catch it before it runs."
Later that evening, in the cozy sitting room, Esi arranged her sketch pad and art materials while Kwabena settled on the wide sofa.
"You," she pointed. "Sit well. No smiling. Just confidence. Boss-man style."
Kwabena adjusted his posture, chest out slightly. "Like this?"
"Perfect. Stay still."
The older maid passed by slowly and tilted her head at them. "Madam Esi, should we bring soft music small? To set the mood?"
Esi looked up and smiled. "Yes, please. A slow one. Play something from Kojo Antwi or Amakye Dede. I need the right mood to draw."
Minutes later, the living room filled with the mellow hum of "Tom and Jerry" by Kojo Antwi. The music floated in the background like a whisper of emotion.
One of the maids dimmed the lights a little. "Aha! Artist setting now," she said, satisfied.
Esi's eyes focused. Pencil in hand, she looked at Kwabena not just as a man — but as a subject. She studied the shape of his face, the curve of his jawline, the thoughtful calmness in his expression.
Kwabena tried to stay still, but his heart was oddly loud in his chest. Her gaze wasn't romantic… it was deeper than that. It was like she was trying to see his soul.
"You're very serious," he whispered after a while.
Esi replied without looking up, "Because this isn't just a sketch. I want you to see yourself through my eyes."
A pause.
Then he smiled softly. "Okay. Then I'll sit as long as you need."
The pencil scratched on paper. Music swirled.
And in that small, glowing room — with the scent of pencil shavings and the vibes of old Ghanaian love songs
— two people began to understand what it means to be seen.