Adaeze stared at her phone for a long time after reading the message.
Stay away from him. You don’t know him.
Her fingers tightened around the device as the noise of the office faded into the background. Printers hummed, phones rang, colleagues laughed, but inside her something cold settled.
“Is everything okay?” her colleague asked casually.
Adaeze forced a smile. “Yes… just work stuff.”
She slipped her phone into her bag, but her mind refused to let the message go. The number was unknown. No name. No explanation. Just a warning.
Who would bother warning me about someone I just met? she wondered.
Back at the Café…
Unaware of the storm brewing in Adaeze’s thoughts, Tunde sat back in the café chair, grinning like a man who had just won small lottery.
“So,” he said, stirring his coffee, “can we agree that Lagos traffic officially introduced us?”
Adaeze raised an eyebrow. “Introduced or embarrassed you?”
“Please,” he laughed. “That was my best side.”
She chuckled despite herself. There was something disarming about him, his confidence wasn’t loud, his humor wasn’t forced. He felt…easy.
“Next time,” she said, “try not to shout like a motor park conductor.”
“Ouch,” Tunde placed a hand on his chest dramatically. “That hurt my upbringing.”
She laughed again, shaking her head.
The barista returned, placing another cup of coffee in front of them. As she turned to leave, her elbow caught the edge of the table.
Splash.
Coffee spilled, right onto Tunde’s shirt.
“Oh my God!” Adaeze exclaimed, jumping up. “I’m so sorry!”
Tunde looked down at his stained shirt, then back up at Adaeze… and burst out laughing.
“So this is how you plan to get rid of me?”
She laughed too, grabbing napkins. “I swear, it wasn’t intentional.”
“I should frame this shirt,” he joked. “First traffic insult, now coffee attack.”
The laughter eased something between them. Walls lowered. Comfort crept in.
Getting to Know You
They talked longer than either planned.
About Lagos.
About work stress.
About childhood memories.
“I’m from Enugu,” Adaeze said. “Moved to Lagos after NYSC. Still adjusting.”
“That explains the calm,” Tunde teased. “Lagos people shout first, think later.”
“And yet,” she smiled, “you seem surprisingly patient.”
“Only with the right people.”
Their eyes held for a second too long.
Adaeze looked away first.
The First Hesitation
As much as she enjoyed the moment, the message lingered in her mind like a quiet alarm.
“So,” Tunde said carefully, “can I see you again?”
She hesitated.
“Look,” he added quickly, “not traffic, not coffee accidents—just… normal.”
Adaeze smiled faintly. “You’re confident.”
“I prefer optimistic.”
She sighed softly. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” he echoed, pretending to be wounded. “That’s progress.”
She stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “I have to go.”
He stood too. “Let me walk you out.”
Outside, the Lagos heat greeted them like an old enemy. Cars honked endlessly. Life rushed on.
Adaeze unlocked her car, then turned to him. “Tunde…”
“Yes?”
She almost mentioned the text. Almost.
“Drive safe,” she said instead.
He smiled. “Always.”
The Warning Deepens
As Adaeze pulled into traffic, her phone buzzed again.
Another message.
Same number.
You think spilled coffee is coincidence? Ask him about his past.
Her chest tightened.
She glanced at her rearview mirror—and for a second, she thought she saw a familiar car trailing her. When she looked again, it was gone.
Her heart raced.
Elsewhere… Watching
In a quiet car parked across the street from the café, a man lowered his phone slowly.
“Good,” he muttered. “Let her doubt.”
He watched Tunde step out of the café, completely unaware.
“This city forgets nothing,” the man said softly. “Especially not me.”
That night, Adaeze lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. Her phone lay beside her, screen dark, but heavy with unanswered questions.
Across Lagos, Tunde checked his phone one last time before sleeping, smiling at a name saved earlier that day.
Adaeze – Traffic Girl
Neither of them knew that what started in traffic was already attracting shadows…
and Lagos was only warming up.
To be continued…
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