The inner compound was different, cleaner than she expected, as she had only swept the outer part. Organized. There was a quiet order to everything that didn’t match the image of a struggling old man.
Soma noticed it immediately.
“You live alone?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“No family?”
He paused.
“Family exists, but not here.”
That answer only raised more questions.
The first night was strange, not because of fear, but because of what didn’t happen.
Baba Akutu showed her a separate room.
“You will sleep here,” he said.
Soma looked at him, confused.
“Aren’t we—?”
He shook his head gently.
“You are safe.”
“Safe?”
The word echoed in her mind.
Nothing about this situation felt normal.
Nothing made sense.
But for the first time since the marriage was announced, Soma slept without fear.
Days passed, then a week, then two, and everything continued to feel unusual.
Baba Akutu never treated her like a wife in the way she had feared. There were no demands, no pressure, no control. Instead, he spoke to her with respect. He asked about her thoughts, her opinions, her dreams—things no one had ever cared about before.
“You read?” he asked one afternoon, noticing the old book in her hand.
“A little,” she said. “I stopped when things became difficult at home.”
He nodded.
“Would you like to continue?”
Soma looked at him, unsure if she had heard correctly.
“Yes, but—”
He said, “It is possible.”
Meanwhile, back in Felicia’s house, things were not going as planned.
The wealthy suitors who had once visited Caro began to disappear one by one. Excuses. Delays. Silence.
Felicia grew restless.
“This doesn’t make sense,” she muttered one evening. “They were interested.”
Caro frowned.
