Wrong Car, Right Stranger

“You’re in the wrong car,” a deep voice said, calm but firm.

Nia’s head snapped up from her phone. “Wha… what did you say?”

The man glanced at her through the rearview mirror, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I said you’re in the wrong car.”

Her chest tightened. “I booked this ride,” she stammered, fumbling for her Uber app.

“No ma’am. I’m not an Uber driver.” The car rolled to the side of the road, engine clicking off.

Panic surged through her. “Oh my God… have I been kidnapped?”

He laughed a warm, disarming sound. “You should see yourself. You look cute.”

“Who are you? What do you want from me?” she demanded.

“I’m Murphy,” he said, leaning back, still smiling. “I saw you leave the building and drove over. Lucky me you walked right into my car without asking.”

Nia froze, cheeks burning. Her mind had been buried in her phone, oblivious to her surroundings.

“Well… I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t shown up at the same time as my ride,” she muttered, exhaling slowly.

“You really should be careful out here,” he said, tone softening. “It’s not safe.”

“I… I will,” she said, forcing a small smile.

Forty minutes later, the car rolled into the quiet streets of her upscale Abuja neighborhood. Nia stepped out, adjusting her bag over her shoulder.

“Hey… what’s your name?” he asked.

“Nia May,” she replied, nodding politely before walking up the driveway.

The next morning, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Every notification pinged her nerves. Then, a message appeared:

“Good morning, Nia. Hope you got home safe. Murphy”

Her fingers hovered. A stranger? Yet, curiosity won. She replied cautiously:

“Yes, I got home safe. Thanks.”

“Glad to hear that. Coffee sometime?”

A week later, they met at a quiet café in Wuse 2. Conversation flowed naturally Murphy was charming, witty, and somehow made Nia forget her caution.

“So… you’re a freelance graphic designer?” he asked, stirring his coffee.

“Yes,” she said, smiling. “Keeps me busy. And I love the freedom.”

“I like that. Independent. Mysterious,” he teased.

“Generous,” she rolled her eyes, hiding a laugh.

Hours passed like minutes. After the café, they walked through the streets, the cool evening air wrapping around them. Nia’s nerves fluttered as Murphy stopped near a secluded garden, his gaze intense.

“You know… I’ve been wanting to do this since our ride,” he said, cupping her face.

Before she could respond, he kissed her long, slow, and demanding. Nia melted into him, hands tangling in his hair as he pressed her closer. The world around them disappeared.

He pulled back slightly, grinning. “You feel it too, don’t you?”

“I… I do,” she whispered, chest heaving.

They continued in the privacy of his car, parked just nearby, where the night shielded them from prying eyes. Their kisses deepened, hands roamed, and the heat between them was undeniable. The city lights reflected off the windshield, casting a soft glow on their entwined forms. Time seemed suspended in that stolen intimacy, every touch electric, every whisper urgent.

They stayed in the car longer than either expected Murphy’s

hand rested on Nia’s thigh, his eyes locked on hers as the city lights blurred past the windshield. The air inside felt thick with promise, charged with something neither had planned but both welcomed.

Nia tucked her hair behind her ear, her pulse echoing in the quiet. “I don’t usually do this,” she whispered.

Murphy leaned closer, his breath warm against her skin. “Neither do I. But when you feel it… it hits you.”

They kissed again gentle at first, then urgent. The scent of his cologne mingled with the night air. Her notebook lay forgotten on the passenger seat, its pages filled with stories and dreams that now seemed small compared to the moment unfolding.

Afterward, they drove to a quiet vantage point overlooking the city. Murphy parked, turned off the engine, and sat back, watching Nia absorb the panorama. She felt vulnerable, alive conflicted.

“You’re quiet,” he observed softly. “Thinking?”

She nodded. “Everything just shifted.”

Murphy reached out, brushing a finger along her wrist. “Does that scare you?”

She looked at him, the city lights reflecting in her eyes. “Scares me because it’s real.”

They talked then about their pasts, their fears, their unlikely meeting. Nia shared how, since childhood, she’d used her camera and notebook to capture moments because she feared missing what mattered. Murphy admitted he’d always been drawn to people who saw the world differently. They laughed, the tension giving way to something tender.

As midnight drew near, Murphy walked her to the front gate of her home. The manicured lawn looked serene under the streetlights, but Nia felt a restlessness she couldn’t shake.

He leaned in. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he promised.

She touched his cheek softly. “Don’t be a stranger.”

Inside her door, the solitude hit her. Her heart raced not just from what had happened, but from what it might mean. She changed into comfortable clothes, sat down with a strong coffee, and opened her notebook. Words poured out about the night, the drive, the man whose presence unsettled and comforted her. She wrote about the wrong car, the right stranger, and the quiet hope that maybe she could trust someone again.

Before sleep came, she checked her phone one last time. A message awaited:

“Goodnight, Nia. Talk tomorrow.” Murphy

Her pulse raced. There was something calm yet magnetic about him. She hesitated, then sank into the seat, letting the tension of the moment wash over her.

The next morning at breakfast. A message popped up in her phone. It read,

“Elite Abuja Neighborhood Robbery: Woman Found Tied in Her Driveway, No Witnesses.”

Her blood ran cold. She read further: a description of a masked man, a silver sedan, and a stolen handbag.

Her phone vibrated again a message from Murphy.

“Hey… just checking in. Everything okay?”

Nia froze. Her mind raced. Silver sedan… the man from yesterday… Murphy?

She picked up the phone slowly, hands shaking.

“Who are you really?” she typed.

“Someone you’re going to trust… or regret,” came the reply

Nia swallowed hard. Her mind flashed back to the warmth in his smile, the charm in his words. But now the edges of that memory were edged with fear. Could he be the one?