Song: African Girl — Kwesi Arthur ft. Shatta Wale (I REALLY LOVE THIS SONG! YOU SHOULD LISTEN TO IT!)

*Unedited* (The sky was green today)

The sun was back at it when I woke up, stretching like a cat. I couldn't remember whatever I'd been dreaming about, but it must've been pleasant because a smile was etched onto my face.

Scratching an itch on my back, I went to the bathroom and had a quick shower, then changed into a brown blouse and a pair of jeans. After brushing my teeth, I made my way to the kitchen.

When I got there and saw a flurry of staff making meals, I rolled my eyes, remembering that I was living in a palace now, and I'd have to eat at a table, family style. It was a very bad idea because I couldn't stand anyone at that table, maybe except Wolfgang.

I could've gone out to buy food but I didn't have any money, and that would look bad to the villagers. I was hungry, so I decided to suck it up.

When I got to the dining room, everyone was seated and eating amidst amiable conversation and booming laughter, but the whole place went quiet as soon as I stepped in. All eyes rose to me, and all those eyes had some degrees of hostility in them, save for Wolfgang's.

"So nice of you to join us, princess," he smirked.

I offered him an annoyed stare and took a seat beside him — because it was either him or Michael, and Lord knows I wanted to avoid any contact with Michael.

"You know each other?" Michael asked.

"No, not really. We were briefly acquainted last night."

"Someone led him into my room," I said, staring pointedly at Linda.

I just knew it had to be her. Perhaps she wanted me to be thrown out and hoped I had done the dirty with Wolfgang.

She stared back at me with wide eyes. "What? No! I took him into an empty room."

Michael turned to me, his jaw ticking. "What do you mean 'briefly acquainted'?"

The chief smirked at Michael as if to say, 'I told you so'.

"Relax, would you? Miss. Linda, you did lead me to the wrong room," her mouth opened to protest but he kept talking before she could interrupt, "but the hallway was dark, you must've been mistaken. And Prince Michael, your fiancée led me to my own room after a short amiable conversation. Nothing happened," he rolled his eyes. "At least try to pretend that you trust her."

If anyone heard that last part, they chose not to comment.

Michael narrowed his eyes at Wolfgang. "Stay away from her. I mean it."

The chief chuckled, putting his fork down. "What are you afraid of, son?"

"I'm not afraid of anything. Excuse me, I lost my appetite," he said, pushing his chair back unceremoniously and storming out of the dining room while his father laughed all his frustrations away.

"These children, they never listen," the chief said to Linda.

Her eyes were fixed on me, confused, probably wondering why I was glaring at her. "Love does that sometimes," she told him.

The chief snorted. "'Love'."

"Aren't you going to eat anything, princess?" Wolfgang asked, staring at my empty plate.

The various meals sat at the centre of the table with ladles so that I could serve myself whatever I wanted.

"Let her do what she wants. She seems to be good at that," the chief chipped in.

We ignored him.

"Uh, yeah, there's a lot to choose from. I don't know what to take."

"How about you start with a salad?" He suggested. He grabbed the ladle and began to serve me as the chief shook his head, his shoulders shaking with mirth.

It was getting harder and harder to ignore him. I really wanted to strangle him.

It was obvious why he was laughing. He had 'warned' Michael about me, and I was doing exactly what he warned Michael about. I wouldn't be surprised if he firmly believed that I slept with Wolfgang the night before.

I looked at Wolfgang who had just ladled the last helping onto my plate and was now smiling at me. "What are you waiting for? Dig in."

"Bread," I murmured.

They stared at me, puzzled. I realised then that they ate the salad raw, that I was the only one on the table who always made a sandwich with my salad.

"Pass the bread please," he told Linda, who passed him the lonely small loaf. He gave it to me.

"Thank you," I said, dividing the loaf in half with my hands. I scooped as much salad as the loaf could take, then took a bite, savouring the deliciousness of it all.

The chief and Linda were staring at me bewilderedly, but Wolfgang had a smirk playing about his lips as he dug into his own meal.

It unnerved me; them thinking that I was some disgusting creature, but I didn't really like them so I didn't care as much as I would've with Michael. Wolfgang chuckled, and our eyes met for a quarter second during which he winked.

I smiled back.

* * *

I threw myself on my bed, wondering what to do with the afternoon. For as long as I could remember, I'd never really had a whole afternoon where I could do anything or nothing at all. Being used to my busy schedule, it felt strange.

Then, I remembered that my phone was still buried somewhere in my luggage. I went for it. On my Instagram account, I had gotten a hundred more followers, bringing me to a total of five hundred.

That was very encouraging for an account created just two days ago. I'd also received a direct message request from someone who had eight hundred thousand followers, and I was startled enough to accept the direct message.

"Hey baby doll." That was the message the person had left for me.

I frowned, wondering why someone who didn't know me was referring to me as 'baby doll'.

"Do I know you?" I questioned. Looking at the username, I spotted something familiar about it.

The person replied almost immediately. "You don't remember me, baby? I thought you would've checked my page by now."

I clicked on the username. The number of half-naked pictures staring back at me had my lower jaw smacking down onto the bed.

Of course, he had so many followers, and of course the idiot who was messaging me was no other than Justus.

"What do you want? I didn't think you'd be very chatty after what happened last time."

"That reminds me, how's the boyfriend?"

"Fiancé."

"Wow, homie doesn't waste any time, does he?"

"Justus, what do you want? I don't have the time or patience for this."

"Okay, okay, chill. I want just one... rendezvous."

I closed Instagram to google what exactly a rendezvous was. When I saw it, I scoffed.

"Forget it," I replied.

"Please, baby? I just want to talk," he said. "I reckon that you're lonely up there?"

"My fiancé is keeping me company."

"Don't lie to me, princess. I know how village royalty works. They might say they want you to participate in politics, but all you're actually going to do is make sure the chief gets laid every night. But then again, I guess you get to control him with the threat of starving him... to some degree — just as much as he can take before he goes mad — because to these villagers, a husband can never force himself on his wife."

I understood the euphemism, but it didn't scare me. Michael wouldn't do that. He wouldn't force me to do anything that I wasn't ready for.

"What happened, princess? Cat's got your tongue?"

"Shut up."

"I'm not trying to scare you, but it's the truth. I prefer you go into the game knowing the outcome. Onto lighter matters, please, please, I just want to take you out, and I promise, it's not to a hotel. You have my word."

As scared as I felt, I wondered, what did I have to do in the palace all by myself? I had freedom of movement. It's just... it'd rub the people the wrong way if I was seen going out with another man.

"Okay, but only if we're going somewhere far away from the village."

He sent a shocked emoji. "Did you just agree?"

"So, you asked... but you expected me to say no?"

"Well, I had hoped you'd say yes, but I didn't think you would."

"Will you take me out or not?"

"Somewhere far from the village, got it," he replied, with a ton of smiley emojis. "You won't regret this."

"I hope I won't."

"I'm ready so just text me when you are. I'll come and pick you up," he said.

"Are you crazy? You can't pick me up from the palace."

"Where then?"

"Your father's farm."

"Sure thing. See you."

I closed the Instagram app and put my phone on charge.

It dawned on me that since I went to the palace, I'd never checked what exactly was in the wardrobe. I'd been wearing the clothes I brought from my house all the while.

When I pulled open the door, my mouth was ajar with shock. It was a small room, though bigger than the room I used to sleep in back at my house.

The small room was filled with clothes, shoes and bags. I touched the dress closest to me, finding that it was made out of silk. I was further shocked when I tried it on and it fit me perfectly. How the heck did Michael know what size I wore? I tried on five other stunning dresses, seeing that they all fit.

I tried on t—shirts, jeans, blouses, and jumpsuits, just hoping to find one that didn't fit. I wanted to find something wrong so that I wouldn't feel so guilty about not giving Michael and me a chance, but nothing was oversized or undersized, — except those cute oversize sweaters — even the shoes!

I sighed, sitting on the floor. I wondered if breaking up with Michael really was the right thing to do. I did feel relieved that I didn't have to live up to his standards — him being a prince and all — that I didn't have to try, but then I always felt the bottomless pit of regret in my stomach whenever I thought of what could have been.
I sighed again, holding up the short bright yellow jumpsuit. I held it against myself, realising that the yellow complimented my chocolate skin. I smiled and picked a pair of white Fila disruptors, but they made the whole thing look bizarre, so I tried black instead, and it looked better.

Black is beautiful.

I went back to the bedroom and sat behind the dressing mirror. There were too many hair moisturizers that I could choose from, but I decided on one called 'dark and lovely' if only because I liked the name. It sounded like something for black women.

My hair wasn't so much of a hassle after that and soon enough, I had pulled it into a bun atop my head and laid my edges. I smiled at my reflection, then applied lipgloss.

Even in all humility, I looked amazing. I took my phone and snapped a lot of selfies. My appearance helped boost my confidence. I felt more confident than I ever had.

I texted him, informing him that I was setting off, and he replied that he was already there.

"Just to be clear, you're not going to try and convince me to sleep with you again, right?"

"*smirks*."

"That's not an answer."

"I promise you, no promises."

"Justus!"

"See you soon babe," he replied, with a smirking emoji.

I reminded myself that this wasn't a mistake and I was just going to have fun. If Justus proved to be terrible company, I'd just whip out my phone and bombard Instagram with selfies.

When I left my room, I manoeuvred my way through the house, making sure that not even the maids saw me. The guards outside were bound to see me, there was nothing I could do about that, but the fewer people who saw me, the better.

"Hey, princess!" A voice called just as I was passing through the gates.

"Wolfgang?" I turned around.

"Where are you going?"

"Out. Since when did you become my bodyguard?" I asked, arching a brow.

He scratched his head awkwardly. "Oh sorry, it's just that... you're a princess. You're actually not supposed to go anywhere without a bodyguard, especially without anyone knowing."

"Michael goes wherever he pleases, and I don't see big strong men tailing him like lost puppies."

"He is supposed to have big strong men following him like lost puppies," he said, making me chuckle, "but I guess he's big and strong himself."

"If he can protect himself, then I can too."

"It's not about gender. He's actually been trained to protect himself. You haven't."

"As much as I'd love to stay here and chat with you, I have to be somewhere."

"At least let me know where you're going," he said. "Just in case you don't come back, or you're stranded or something."

My brow was as high as it could be. His behaviour was suspicious.

"Okay, fine take my number," he said.

I smirked. "Darn, if you wanted my number, you could've just asked."

His eyes went wide. "N—no, I j—just—"

"It's okay," I cut him off, laughing. "I was just kidding. Here."

I handed him my phone and he entered his number, saving it as David.

"Really? David?"

"Get it? My name is Wolfgang and David was a shepherd—"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," I laughed. "Thanks. For... caring."

He smiled, the sight soothing. "Sure. Call me if you need anything."

"I will."

I smiled at him before I turned around. Surprisingly, the guards let me out without a word. I thought I'd have to argue.

From the palace, my father's farm was a bit far, and there were no taxis that went from there to the farm so unless I took a commercial motorcycle — and I was too scared of those — I'd have to walk. And I did.

It was excruciating and I had to make sure that I didn't sweat into the jumpsuit, wiping every drop of sweat from my armpits before it could drip onto the suit.

Before I approached the sleek Benz and the man leaning against it, I wiped my face dry too.

"I didn't think you could look any hotter, but damn," he said. His expression reminded me of that red, sweaty emoji with its tongue out.

"Thank you. You look... okay," I smirked.

He was dressed simply but oozed wealth in a black leather jacket, a pair of jeans and some expensive looking shoes. They were probably the ones made by that guy, Kanye West. I noticed the fading scars on his face from his fight with Michael.

He rolled his eyes and held open the door for me. When I was sat, he asked, "Do you want to know where we're going?"

"Of course, dumbass."

He had the nerve to chuckle. "There's no way on earth that I'm telling you that."

"Then why'd you ask if I wanted to know if I had no choice anyway?"

He went over to his side of the car, tucked in his seatbelt and grinned at me. He didn't say anything after that. Instead, he turned the radio on and tuned to a station that was spewing out some of Ghana's biggest hits.

'African girl' by Kwesi Arthur and Shatta Wale was playing, and I found myself relaxing in the car seat, enjoying the music. All too soon, the song ended and Justus turned the volume down.

"Why'd you do that?"

With his eyes focused on the road, he told me, "I was just waiting for the song to end; I could see you liked it."

"And why were you waiting for the song to end?"

"I want to talk to you," he said with a grin. "I mean, duh."

"What do you want to talk to me about? Get to the point please, you never know what song could be playing."

He rolled his eyes, then sighed. "I like you."

"You said you wouldn't try to get me to sleep with you."

He swore under his breath. "I'm not trying to get you to sleep with me. I like you, okay? That's why I'm trying. I never do."

"This is you trying?" I scoffed. "Then I'd love to see you not trying."

"Elorm," he growled, frowning.

"Why exactly would you like me? It's not like you've even seen my good side. All I've done since we met was ignore you or insult you."

He laughed. "True. Maybe it's something in the way you move."

I turned to glare at him.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you after... that day. I did want to stop thinking about you, considering that you have a boyfriend who has left me scarred for life, but the heart wants what the heart wants, doesn't it?"

"Woah drop me off here please," I told him, only half-jokingly. He was beginning to make me uncomfortable. Sure, Justus was handsome enough and I'd turned my marriage into a business deal, but I didn't think I could forget how he treated me that day. Furthermore, he didn't seem like a one—woman man.

"I'm not trying to pressure you or anything, I want you to meet me."

"I've already met you," I told him childishly, even though I very well knew what he meant.

"No." He would've facepalmed if his hands weren't on the steering wheel. "I want you to meet the me that isn't reeling from a heartbreak and taking it out on every woman in sight."

Instantly, I felt sorry for him. He didn't look like someone who had suffered from a heartbreak, with all his smugness and arrogance. I honestly thought he was someone who was just proud of his size.

"I know exactly how you feel."

His grip tightened on the wheel. "Do you? Do you know how it feels like to have your heart ripped out of your chest, stomped on and handed back to you?"

Realising how serious he was, I placed a hand on his knee. "I have a vague notion."

He scoffed. "Your perfect boyfriend."

Don't spill your guts to this perverted stranger Elorm, don't. "We... broke up."

"I thought you were getting married," he said, turning to look at me.

I gave him a pointed stare, silently commanding him to keep his eyes on the road. He obliged.

"It's a long story. But let's just say that we're not going to have a happy married life. Besides, if we were fine, I would've never agreed to go out with you."

He snorted. "I don't know whether you're under pressure from your family or the village, you don't have to marry this young. You're just eighteen."

"I'm not being forced." Technically, I was. In a way. "I must get married, but I'm not being forced."

He risked another glance to show his confusion.

I groaned. "It's a marriage of convenience okay? We're both going to gain something from it and when we do, it's hasta la vista baby."

"I see," he said thoughtfully, a smile breaking out on his face. "That means you can be with anyone, right?"

I stopped to think about it. We never agreed to be exclusive, but I didn't want this marriage to be in vain. Being with someone else was too risky. It'd ruin everything if someone found out that I was going out with someone else.

"I really don't know. No one knows it's not a legitimate marriage so I'd be expected to stay faithful."

"I understand," he nodded with a tight smile.

Taking one look at him, I realised that he was really serious about liking me, though I couldn't even begin to imagine why. According to him, the woman who had broken his heart had indirectly caused the treatment I had received when we'd met.

"You're willing to give this one more go?" I asked, fidgeting. Truthfully, I said it more out of pity than anything else. I didn't see myself with him, heartbroken or not.

"I don't want her to define who I become. That'd mean that she's still winning and Lord knows how much I hate losing. I want to become the man I used to be before her." He spoke with more feeling in those few sentences than I'd ever heard him speak since I met him.

"Did you love her?"

He froze, his fingers squeezing the life out of the wheel. "I might have," he replied, in a tone that suggested that I speak nothing more on the subject.

But the day I begin listening to authority is the day rain becomes a ball in the sky and shines down on us. "Do you reckon that you still do?"

He sighed and muttered something unrepeatable. "It doesn't matter. She's my past and I don't want to keep reminiscing the past. Can we talk about something else?"

When I didn't reply, he turned the radio up and unsurprisingly, 'African girl' was playing again. It was a huge hit.

* * *

"What the heck is this?" I asked, staring at the big screen in front of me.

"It's called a game centre," he smirked, pulling off his leather jacket.

"Why would you bring me here? I have 'temple run' on my phone, let's go."

He laughed, taking a seat behind one of the big television screens. He had already spoken to the guy who run the place and did whatever you had to do to enter the place and play games.

"I thought we were going to eat or something," I whined.

"We can get food after I show you how to play football."

"Oh, football. Can I use the team that has Cristiano Ronaldo in it?" I asked, recalling the Italian football team, Juventus.

I had never seen a more aggressive eye roll than the one Justus gave me in reply to my question. "No. You can use Barcelona. Lionel Messi, the only legend plays there."

"Ew. Messi's not hot."

"So that's why you want to use Ronaldo? Because he's hot?"

"Duh. Does it look like I know jack squat about football? The only other thing I know is that Ronaldo can jump higher than a plane in the sky."

Another overly aggressive eyeroll. "That's just a myth. And Messi's hotter than Ronaldo."

"Oh c'mon. Even you know that's a lie," I laughed.

He glared at me. Just to spite me, when we were choosing the teams, he chose Juventus which was where Ronaldo played.

"Messi is obviously the better player. You can even see it from his looks."

"You mean the ugly beard? Wherever did he get the idea that having your beard and hair in different colours was attractive?"

"It's much better than Ronaldo's..." he trailed off, not finding anything to say. I smirked. "This is stupid, their looks don't matter! All that matters is their ability on the field."

"And who has the most followers on Instagram."

He glared, knowing that he lost that argument. Ronaldo probably had the most followers on Instagram in the world.

"That's just because people like you exist. Messi is the only legend, everyone knows that," he said grumpily.

"Hm, okay," I replied smugly.

"I'm not going to show you how to play if you keep thinking Cristiano is better than Lionel."

"I'm not going to keep thinking that."

"You are."

"I'm not."

He glared at me for a couple more seconds before showing me the controls.

Once I was comfortable enough with the controller, I turned to him and smirked. "You just armed your enemy."

"Yeah, okay," he teased.

Sometime later, I was having so much fun that I was laughing at myself for losing so horribly — which I never did.

The first match ended six nil in his favour. I complained that Juventus was obviously a better team than the team I'd chosen — Arsenal — so the odds were in his favour. He let me — albeit grudgingly — use Juventus after and I scored two goals; though that didn't matter because he had scored four times the goals I scored.

"I've learnt two things today," Justus said after paying for the games we had played.

"That I'm a fast learner and I'm awesome?"

"No," he drawled, rolling his eyes. "That you're a sore loser and most of the girls who like Ronaldo only like him for his looks, not because he's a better player."

"Um, I am not a sore loser. I vaguely remember laughing at myself—"

"The first time," he cut in. "You kept saying the only reason why you were losing was because you were using mediocre Arsenal and that was funny for you. You weren't so cheerful when your precious Ronaldo failed you."

"Speaking of that, we like Ronaldo because he's hotter and he's a better player. And Ronaldo didn't fail me. If you didn't notice, that was my first time using a PlayStation and I managed to score two goals because of Ronaldo. You on the other hand, should be ashamed of yourself, letting a novice score not one but two goals."

He smirked. "I let you score those goals."

"Ha," I laughed, following him into an ice cream store. "You wish."

"No, I actually let you score both goals. They're called pity goals."

"You didn't let me score," I had barely finished my sentence when he opened his mouth to protest. "Shut up. I said you didn't and that's final."

He smirked and pressed his lips together.

We were standing behind a counter, where someone dressed in colourful clothing was waiting patiently. Above us, various cones, cups and bowls of ice cream were displayed on a long horizontal screen.

"Do you have any idea what you want?"

"What the heck is that supposed to mean?" I glared at him.

He visibly gulped. "Erm, I assumed you've never taken ice cream so you don't know the flavours?"

I smiled, then turned to the attendant. "Neapolitan please. With cookie sprinkles."

"Okay I wasn't expecting that," he chuckled.

He ordered his ice cream, and we took them to a vacant table. On the way there, I felt to urgent need to empty my kidneys so I asked him to excuse me.

"This is going better than I initially expected," I commented when I got back, wiping my wet hands with tissue paper.

He looked up from his phone with a proud smirk. "I can be charming when I want to, princess."

"Can you stop calling me that?"

"What, princess? Your wish is my command, princess."

"That. Princess. I'm not a princess."

"But you're going to be one in no time at all, aren't you?"

"Yes, but I'm not one yet and it'd be nice of you to stop reminding me."

"Nice? Never heard of that."

I rolled my eyes. "You can be a jerk sometimes, you know?"

"Oh, I know," he chuckled. He touched his finger to my chin, tilting it up so that his eyes burned into mine. "I'm really sorry things didn't work out with prince charming. You don't deserve what's happening to you. You seem like a decent person."

"What's happening to me? How would you know?" I asked, baffled.

"A quick text to my sister. That girl is walking and talking gossip."

"So you know? Why I must marry him?"

"If I were you, I would up and disappear. This place is toxic," he said with all seriousness.

"Oh, believe me, I know," I laughed humourlessly. "That's much easier said than done. Where would I go?"

"Well..." he looked at me with hopeful eyes. "You could come stay with me while you figure out where to go."

I laughed dramatically. "I'll pass, thank you. You could be a psycho for all I know."

"It was worth a shot."

By the time I dug into my ice cream, some of it was liquefied. I would've liked to believe that that was due to the time I'd spent conversing with Justus, but one look across the room to meet Michael's ice cream melting, angry glare was enough to prove me wrong.

* * *

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