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Not too long the rain stopped. The roads were already wet and shining under the street lights Everywhere in the air is smelling fried foods, smoke from vehicles. Choke was sitting inside his small taxi car, resting while placing his hands on the steering wheel. He is so tired because he have been working all day. But he still needs to work because he needs the money to take care of his bills.
When he stopped on the bus station it was almost 9 pm. A few people waited there, looking restless. He thought it might be his last trip for the night. Then he saw her.
She strides aside bag shoulder folder pressed to chest. Hair loose about face. Tired look but calm. She bent and tapped on his window.
“Are you free?” asked Chike, nodding.
She opened the door and got in, but not at the back seat that most other people would have gone for. She sat in front right beside him.
That caught him by surprise.
Her perfume was soft and light. It filled the car.
“Where to?” Chike asked.
She gave him the address. It’s not far. He started the engine and drove off.
For some time, neither of them spoke. A radio played highlife ancient tunes. The scurry of the city flew past in a blur of lights and shadows, and Chike stole glances at her now and then. Most of the time, she peered out a window. But once or twice, their eyes met. He looked away quickly.
“You’ve been driving long?” she asked.
“Since morning,” he said.
“That’s a long day. You must be tired.”
He gave a small smile. “Tired doesn’t pay bills.”
She laughed softly. The sound stayed in his head.
They began to talk after that. About the rain. About traffic. About fuel. Just small things, but her voice made the silence easier.
At one stoplight, the folder on her lap slipped. A paper slid down to his feet. Chike picked it up and handed it back. Their fingers touched for a moment.
“Thank you,” she said.
Alright no problem, and his heart was already beating very fast.
She asked, “Do you like driving?”
“I like the freedom,” he said. “Not the stress.”
She nodded. “I work in a law firm. Every day feels like a fight. Sometimes I wish I had freedom like that.”
Chike laughed. “And sometimes I wish I had your kind of job. Something steady.”
She smiled. At that moment Chike forgot that he is a driver.
She removed her seatbelt the moment they reached her destination, then she looked at chike.
“You didn’t ask my name,” she said.
He laughed. “You didn’t ask mine either.”
“True. I’m Amara.”
“Chike.”
She opened the door, then leaned back in. “Goodnight, Chike.”
“Goodnight, Amara.”
And then she was gone. But he felt her presence long after.
The next night, she was there again. Same place. Same time. Same seat.
And it kept happening.
She became part of his nights. Sometimes she was quiet, eyes closed from a long day. Sometimes she talked. She gist him about her work and her mother who is seriously ill.
Chike shared too. His struggles as a designer. The loneliness of living alone. His thoughts about love.
They laughed. They argued about music. They shared stories. The car stopped feeling like just a taxi. It became their space.
One rainy night, the taxi slipped on a wet turn. Amara lost her balance. Chike caught her hand.
The car steadied, but he didn’t let go. She didn’t pull away either.
Her hand feels very cold but warm in Chike's hand. She said to him "am meant to meet you".
Chike was short of words. He only held on tighter before letting go.
Then, one evening, she didn’t come.
He waited. The seat stayed empty.
The next night, the same.
On the third day he suspected of she has been real about everything.
On the fifth day, just as he was about to leave, she ran up, breathless, clutching her bag. She slid into the seat beside him.
“Where were you?” Chike asked.
“My mother was sick. I stayed with her.”
“She’s better now?”
“Yes.” Her voice softened. “I missed this.”
Relief washed through him.
One night, Chike asked, “Do you ever think about us outside this car?”
Amara looked at him for a long moment. The car hummed around them.
Then she whispered, “Every day.”
He felt his chest rise with relief.
“Maybe we shouldn’t wait for the taxi anymore,” he said. “Maybe coffee. Dinner. Something real.”
She was quiet, then nodded. “Yes. I’d like that.”
That night, Chike couldn’t sleep. He kept hearing her yes.
One Thursday evening, they stepped out of the taxi together. For the first time.
The city was loud. Cars honked. People shouted. Music spilled from shops. But none of it mattered.
They walked side by side. Their hands brushed, then joined.
The world moved around them. But together, it felt calm.
They had found something in the simplest way in a car, in a seat, in silence.
And they didn’t plan to let it go.
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STOPLove can ignite anywhere, between the least expected people and this story sounds like a journey of the begging of something that would last forever.
I really enjoyed your story. Reminds me of Rihanna's song -We found love in a hopeless place 😅