Episode 2 — Fire and Silk
Ama Duplan had never known a life without choices.
Her world was a soft mix of privilege, morning jogs along the manicured lawns of the Duplan estate in Cantonments, breakfast prepared by chefs who whispered her moods before she spoke, and tennis practices under the private watch of European coaches flown in on her father’s whims.
Her father, Henri Duplan, was not just rich; he was Accra’s quiet power, the man who financed campaigns and owned half the advertising billboards on Oxford Street. Her mother, Yvonne, lived in London, flitting between charity galas and discreet lovers. For Ama, tennis had started as rebellion, as a way to matter beyond her father’s shadow. But as sponsorships and fame grew, it became her identity, her shield.
She was beautiful, and she knew it, her reflection reminded her daily. But beauty came with expectation, and every smile was measured, every victory an obligation. Her friends called her lucky. She called herself trapped.
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Kwesi Biney’s world was a different game altogether.
He grew up in a side of Nima, where the walls sweated in the heat and dreams were traded for survival. His first racket had a cracked frame, and his first shoes had holes. But his serve? That was a weapon.
He learned the sport on broken courts, hustling bets from richer boys and walking home under shaky streetlights. He had no sponsors, no safety nets, only his body and his will.
Women noticed him. They couldn’t help it. The way his T-shirt clung to muscle, the easy charm in his laugh, the fire in his eyes when he played. He didn’t chase; they came to him—tournament girls, bored housewives, sponsors’ daughters seeking danger. He never promised anything, and they loved him for it.
But Kwesi wasn’t just another charmer. Beneath the swagger was hunger, the kind that didn’t fade after applause. Every match was a chance to prove he belonged on courts like Osu’s, against people like Ama Duplan. Every win was a strike against a world that had written him off.
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Two players, two worlds, one driven by pride, the other by survival.
Ama trained for control.
Kwesi fought for freedom.
And yet, when they faced each other, something shifted like two storms colliding, neither willing to bow.
That night after their heated match, Ama sat by her window, the city lights shining beneath her balcony. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d caught her when she fell. The memory irritated her like a bruise she couldn’t stop touching.
Across town, Kwesi lay on a creaky bed in a room that smelled of sweat. He replayed her voice in his head, sharp, proud, unforgettable.
He told himself never to be intimidated. That sparked a domineering fire in him. Although it was an exhibition match with a lady, he didn’t show any weakness.
To be continued…
Link to Next episode (3):
LOVE AND TENNIS. Episode 3 | By Kafui Avaworyi | Crowdpen
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