The next morning came quietly, although Nairobi itself had already been awake for hours.
By the time the first light pushed through the small window, Elsha was already in the kitchen area preparing breakfast. The previous night's groceries sat neatly against the wall, and he moved between the small stove and the table with the familiarity of someone who had learned to make do with very little. There was something almost peaceful about the routine. Water heating. Bread being prepared. A little tea. Nothing complicated.
Jasmine woke to the smell and remained still for a moment, staring at the ceiling above her.
For a few seconds she forgot where she was.
Then everything returned.
The house. Elsha. The men who had chased her. Her family. The message on her phone.
Saturday.
She turned her head and looked toward the small table where she had left her phone. She reached for it and checked the screen.
The reminder was still there.
Saturday, 7:00 PM. Don't be late.
She locked the phone again.
"Breakfast is almost ready."
Elsha's voice came from the kitchen.
Jasmine sat up. "You were already awake?"
"I usually am."
She walked over and sat at the table. "You always wake up this early?"
"I have a business to run."
She looked toward him. "You call that a business?"
Elsha glanced at her.
"My meat stall," she added quickly.
"Yes."
Jasmine smiled slightly. "I was just asking."
"I know."
He placed the tea on the table and sat across from her. For a moment, neither spoke. The silence was not uncomfortable, but Jasmine could tell that Elsha was the kind of person who did not feel the need to fill every quiet moment with words.
She took a sip of tea.
"About last night…"
Elsha looked at her.
Jasmine paused.
She wanted to ask him about the strange feeling she had experienced while they were walking. She wanted to ask why her fear had suddenly disappeared, why she had felt warmth around her, and why being beside him had somehow made the whole street seem safer.
But she couldn't find the right words.
"What about it?" Elsha asked.
She shook her head. "Nothing."
He studied her briefly, then looked away.
"If you have something to say, say it."
Jasmine looked down at her cup. "I just wanted to thank you."
"For what?"
"For helping me."
Elsha shrugged. "You needed help."
"That doesn't mean everyone would have helped."
He didn't answer.
Jasmine watched him for a moment before returning to her breakfast.
There was something different about him. She still couldn't explain it, and perhaps she didn't want to. She had enough problems already.
After breakfast, Elsha prepared the food he had promised to leave for her during the day. He placed it in a covered container and pointed toward it.
"Lunch."
"I can see that."
"Eat it."
Jasmine smiled. "You sound like an old man."
"I sound like someone who doesn't want to come back and find his food untouched."
She laughed softly.
It was the first genuinely relaxed laugh she had given him.
Elsha noticed but said nothing.
A short while later, he left.
The streets were already becoming busy. People were heading to work, schoolchildren moved along the roadside in groups, and matatus filled the roads with their usual impatience. Nairobi had its own rhythm in the morning, one Elsha had quickly become accustomed to. There was always somewhere to go, something to sell, someone trying to beat traffic, and someone complaining about the price of everything.
By the time he reached his stall, the market was alive.
Esther was already arranging clothes outside her stall.
She looked up when she saw him.
"You are late today."
Elsha glanced at her. "I'm not late."
"You are later than yesterday."
"That isn't the same thing."
Esther laughed. "You young people always have an answer."
Elsha began preparing the charcoal.
"Your friend hasn't been here for a while?" Esther asked casually.
Elsha looked at her.
"I'm only asking."
"Yes."
Esther nodded as she folded a shirt. "The beautiful one?"
"Yes."
"You don't talk much about her."
"There's nothing to talk about."
Esther gave him a knowing look but decided not to continue.
The market gradually became busier. Customers came and went, some asking for small pieces of meat, others wanting enough for their families. Elsha worked steadily, cutting, seasoning, turning meat over the charcoal and taking money whenever someone paid.
The ordinary work kept his mind occupied.
For most of the morning, he managed not to think about Jasmine.
Then, while turning a piece of meat over the grill, he suddenly remembered the feeling from the previous night.
The power.
It had responded so naturally.
Too naturally.
Elsha stared at the smoke rising from the charcoal for a moment.
He remembered the first time he had realized what was inside him in his former life. He remembered the battles, the years of cultivation, the impossible strength that had once felt as natural as breathing. He remembered how quickly power had turned people into enemies.
He pushed the memories away.
That life was over.
He had another chance.
He wanted this life.
He wanted to sell meat.
He wanted to go home tired from ordinary work instead of returning from another battle.
He wanted to worry about charcoal prices and rent instead of immortal enemies.
So he turned another piece of meat and continued working.
Across from him, Esther watched quietly.
She had noticed the brief change in his expression but said nothing.
By lunchtime, the market was at its busiest. A matatu stopped somewhere beyond the alley, and several people hurried past while calling to one another. The smell of roasted meat mixed with smoke, dust, and the food being prepared by other vendors nearby.
Elsha wiped his hands and looked toward the road.
For a brief moment, he wondered whether Jasmine was safe.
He immediately became irritated with himself.
Why was he worrying about her?
She was not his responsibility.
He had already allowed her to stay. That was enough.
Yet the thought remained.
***
Back at the house, Jasmine sat alone.
The morning had been peaceful, but peace made it easier for her thoughts to catch up with her.
She picked up her phone again.
There were several missed notifications.
One was from an unknown number.
She stared at it.
She didn't open the message immediately.
Her fingers tightened around the phone.
Finally, she opened it.
There were only a few words.
Everyone is waiting for you. You know what Saturday means.
Jasmine's face went still.
She read it again.
Then she deleted it.
She placed the phone on the bed and stood up.
For a few moments, she simply walked around the small room.
Saturday.
They were coming closer.
She knew they would not stop looking for her.
Her family had never been the kind to accept being ignored. When they decided something, it happened. When they wanted someone somewhere, they expected that person to be there.
And this time, they had already decided something about her life.
Something she had never agreed to.
Jasmine sat back down.
She remembered the house she had left behind, the expensive furniture, the large rooms, the people who spoke about her future as though she wasn't sitting in the same room. She remembered the conversations that stopped whenever she entered, the smiles that never reached people's eyes, and the constant reminders that everything had already been arranged.
She had tried to resist quietly.
Then loudly.
Neither had worked.
So she ran.
She had thought freedom would feel different.
Instead, she had spent nights moving from one place to another, never staying long enough for anyone to find her. She had been hungry. Exhausted. Afraid.
Then she met Elsha.
Jasmine looked around his small house.
It wasn't much.
But nobody here had told her what she was supposed to become.
Nobody here had decided her future for her.
For the first time in a long time, she could breathe.
The thought made her feel guilty.
Because she knew she couldn't stay forever.
When Elsha returned that evening, he found Jasmine sitting outside the house.
She looked up as he approached.
"You're back."
"Yes."
He noticed the expression on her face.
"Everything okay?"
She nodded.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside.
After a few minutes, Jasmine helped him prepare dinner. It was simple, but the two of them moved around the small kitchen without getting in each other's way.
It almost felt normal.
That was what frightened Jasmine most.
Normal was something she had been denied for so long that she was beginning to enjoy it.
They ate quietly.
Afterward, Jasmine remained seated.
"Elsha."
He looked at her.
"I need to ask you something."
"What?"
"If someone was trying to control your entire life, what would you do?"
He leaned back slightly.
The question struck somewhere deeper than she expected.
For a moment, his mind returned to another world.
Another life.
Another time when people stronger than him had decided what he deserved, what he should become, and when his existence should end.
He looked at Jasmine.
"I'd leave."
She lowered her eyes. "Even if leaving meant losing everything?"
"Yes."
"Even if the people you left behind were your family?"
Elsha was quiet.
"Sometimes," he finally said, "family can be the reason you need to leave."
Jasmine looked at him.
There was something in his voice that told her he wasn't speaking only from imagination.
She wanted to ask what had happened to him.
But she remembered the way he avoided talking about his past.
So she let the question remain unspoken.
Her phone suddenly vibrated on the table.
Both of them looked at it.
Jasmine picked it up.
Another message.
She opened it.
This time, she didn't delete it immediately.
Her eyes moved slowly across the screen.
Elsha watched her face change.
"What does it say?"
Jasmine looked at him.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she turned the phone toward herself again.
The message was short.
Saturday. Seven o'clock. Be ready. Everything has already been arranged.
She locked the screen.
Elsha saw enough of her expression to understand that whatever she had been running from was not simply a disagreement with her family.
Something had already been decided for her.
Something she was terrified of.
He looked away.
He had wanted a quiet life.
But sitting across from Jasmine, he realized that whatever was waiting for her on Saturday was slowly becoming a problem that might not leave her alone.
And if it reached his doorstep, it might not leave him alone either.