Chapter eight
632 Words
The New House Rules
Afia stood quietly in the large living room, her eyes moving slowly from one corner to another.
Everything felt too big.
Too clean.
Too perfect.
Nothing like the life she had known in Boame Village.
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“Afia,” Mr Matey called gently.
She quickly turned. “Yes, sir.”
“Come, I want you to meet my wife.”
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Afia followed him nervously.
They entered another part of the house where a woman sat elegantly, flipping through a magazine.
“This is my wife,” he said. “Mrs Matey.”
Afia lowered her head respectfully.
“Good afternoon, Ma.”
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Mrs Matey looked up slowly.
Her eyes scanned Afia from head to toe.
There was no warmth.
No smile.
Only quiet judgment.
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“So this is the girl?” she said flatly.
“Yes,” Mr Matey replied. “Her name is Afia. She will be staying with us.”
Mrs Matey closed the magazine.
“Hm,” she murmured, clearly uninterested.
“Make sure she understands how things are done here,” she added coldly.
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Afia felt her heart sink.
She didn’t need anyone to explain it.
She was not welcome.
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“Come,” Mr Matey said, leading her away.
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They moved into another room where two teenagers sat.
“These are my children,” he said.
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The girl stood up immediately.
She had a calm, gentle face.
“Hello,” she said warmly.
“This is Eva Matey.”
Afia looked surprised.
Someone… was smiling at her.
“Hello…” Afia replied softly.
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Eva stepped closer.
“You can call me Eva. Don’t be scared, okay?” she said kindly.
Afia nodded slowly.
For the first time since arriving, she felt a little relief.
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Then—
A boy leaned back in his chair, watching everything lazily.
“This is Evans Matey,” Mr Matey said.
Evans smirked.
“So this is the village girl?” he said casually.
Afia’s heart tightened.
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“Yes,” Mr Matey said firmly. “And you will respect her.”
Evans shrugged.
“Whatever,” he replied, looking away.
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Afia quickly understood.
Eva was kind.
Evans… was trouble.
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Later that evening, Afia was shown around the house.
It was more than just big—
It was opulent.
Everything shined.
Everything was arranged perfectly.
She was afraid to even touch anything.
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But what surprised her most—
Was the number of workers.
There were already three maids in the house.
They moved confidently, clearly used to the environment.
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Afia stood awkwardly among them.
She didn’t know where she belonged.
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“New girl?” one of them asked.
Afia nodded.
“Hmm… you’ll learn,” the woman said, walking away.
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That night, Afia lay on a soft bed.
A real bed.
Not a mat.
Not the hard floor.
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But sleep did not come easily.
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She missed her home.
Her mother.
Ama.
Adwoa.
Kofi.
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Tears rolled quietly down her cheeks.
“This place is too big…” she whispered.
“Too different…”
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The noise of Accra echoed faintly outside.
Cars.
Voices.
Movement.
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Everything felt unfamiliar.
Everything felt fast.
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Afia turned on the bed, holding herself tightly.
For the first time since leaving home—
She felt small again.
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In a house full of people…
She had never felt so alone.
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And deep down—
She knew something clearly.
This new life would not be easy.
Not with Mrs Matey watching her every move…
Not with Evans Matey ready to cause trouble…
And not in a place where she didn’t yet belong.
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But Afia had survived worse.
And she was not about to give up now.
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- Writer
