Yara came downstairs without even glancing at the receptionists. Her dress looked slightly puffed, and her neatly tied ponytail was now messy.
"Did they make out?" one of the receptionists muttered to herself, eyes narrowing with suspicion.
Yara walked out with her fists clutching the sides of her dress. The receptionist turned her gaze toward the stairs, heart beating faster.
When Yara had disappeared beyond the shop's entrance, the receptionist quickly ran upstairs. As she neared the shopkeeper's office, a sour, spirit-like smell hit her nose. She sneezed, eyes watering.
"Sir, are you alright?" she asked, leaning her ear close to the door.
A faint voice replied from inside. The shop owner's throat burned, and his eyes still tingled from whatever had hit him.
"I'm fine," he rasped. "Immediately close the shop and report for work tomorrow."
"Alright, sir," the receptionist said, then quietly began closing all the windows and doors.
The shop owner spent the day sprawled on the floor, crawling between drawers for the snacks he normally kept for visitors. Meanwhile, in a cart rattling down the street, Yara was pulling bundles of cash from beneath her dress and stuffing them into a stretchable bag she always carried for errands.
When Yara had reached the main street that led to the shop, she got off the cart and calmly walked towards the shop and opened it. She stepped behind the counter and took a seat sighing out heavily.
She then began pulling the bundles of cash from under her dress, organizing it into smaller bags. Phinehas, the messenger boy she had nicknamed, stood at the counter, waiting silently.
A moment later, the door burst open.
Egen stormed in, startling Phinehas, who flinched before relaxing again. Yara didn't flinch. She simply glanced up, saw Egen, and went back to counting.
"Where have you get this money from?" Egen asked, tension thick in his voice as he stood at the counter entrance.
"From heaven. Where else does anyone get money from?" Yara replied without looking up. She handed three small bags to Phinehas. "My friend, be careful with this. See you later."
Phinehas walked off with the bags. A faint floral scent trailed behind him. Egen caught a whiff and raised his brows.
"That's an expensive perfume unless I've forgotten how luxury smells," he murmured.
Yara opened a drawer and pulled out a damp cloth, wiping the dust from her hands. Then she dabbed jelly into her palms and rubbed them together. Egen looked on.
"This business feeds the whole family," Egen warned, stepping away. "Don't ruin it with whatever you're doing for your own benefit."
He left without another word but a frown lingered on his face.
Yara leaned back in her chair and sighed, massaging her temples with both hands.
"I hope this guy (The shop keeper) doesn't cause me more trouble." Yara glanced at the debt sheet Zera had given her. According to Phinehas, all debts had been collected. Nothing remained outstanding.
As the sun dipped low, Walda found Egen sitting on the front porch, lost in thought. Smiling softly, she tapped his shoulder.
"Hello Aunty, I didn't even hear you," Egen said, snapping out of his trance.
Walda sat across from him. Her hands folded neatly in her lap. "What's wrong?"
"I was at the shop earlier. Yara disappeared for almost three hours." Egen hummed and straightened his back.
"When she came back, I found her counting tons of money but she wouldn't say where it came from. She said it fell from heaven." Egen sucked on his teeth and shook his head.
Walda's eyebrows rose. Her lips parted slightly, teeth barely visible.
"Wait... this really happened?" she asked, gripping the arms of the chair.
"Looks like she's seeing some old man, I don't know. " Egen said. His eyes wandered, dark with concern.
"After all the abortions and shame she's caused, and now this?" "That hoe," Walda spat. She clapped her hands twice and snapped her fingers, anger simmering in her voice.
Back at the shop, the owner had managed to crawl into a chair. He leaned forward until his head rested on folded arms. A faint beam of light streamed through the high window, barely illuminating the room.
Suddenly, the front door slammed open. His son, Eki, rushed in, sweat running down his face and a small lantern in his hand.
"Father!" he called out.
The man lifted his head, smiling weakly. Eki ran and flung the windows open, and let a fresh breeze wash in. The room was a mess snack wrappers on the floor, books scattered from the shelves.
"Let the air refresh you. I'll carry you out shortly," Eki said, gently removing his father's soaked shirt.
"How did you know something was wrong?" the father asked, voice faint but breathing stronger.
"The receptionist. She insisted. Said that girl, Yara, walked out with a puffier dress than when she came in. She kept pestering me."
"I feel better. We can talk more when we get home."The man muttered clenching his teeth when Eki tried to move him.
"My friends are outside they will help carry you. I'm going to pass by the doctor's place to get something. You were definitely drugged and knocked with a blunt object," Eki replied, eyes scanning the empty drawers.
"I still feel dizzy and weak," his father said, struggling to stand. Eki called in two friends, and they helped carry the man out of the building.
"You did well keeping others away," the man murmured with a faint smile. "Otherwise, people would've had the wrong image of me."
They all chuckled quietly.
That night, Eki returned to Laoni trading centre, far from his father's shop. He sat alone near the kiosks neighboring Zera's shop, his thoughts heavy and eyes burning with the question, what had Yara done to the old man?