CHAPTER 2: The Stranger with Soft Voice
880 Words
The rain calmed to a hiss as we walked, the umbrella above us trembling with each gust of wind. My heels clicked through shallow water, and every few seconds Tobi adjusted the umbrella so it stayed centered over me.
It was unnecessary.
It was thoughtful.
And it bothered me.
No man should be that attentive to a stranger.
“You’re quiet,” he said.
“I don’t talk much in storms.”
“You talked to me.”
“That was a mistake.”
His laugh came low, warm, like he wasn’t mocking me — just enjoying the challenge.
“You don’t like being helped,” he observed.
“I don’t like depending on anyone.”
“Who said you depended on me? I’m just making sure you don’t drown in three inches of water.”
That annoyed me — not because it was condescending, but because it wasn’t.
He wasn’t teasing me to feel superior.
He was teasing me because he liked the sound of my irritation.
I felt my cheeks warm.
We passed a row of shuttered shops, our footsteps echoing. His arm brushed mine — lightly, unintentionally — but my body reacted as if he had held me by the waist.
My breath hitched, and he noticed.
He didn’t comment, but his lips tugged into a knowing curve.
“Where are you headed?” he asked.
“Bus stop.”
“And after that?”
“Home.”
“A long day?”
“Every day is long.”
Something in his expression softened. The amusement faded, replaced by a quiet intensity that made me suddenly very aware of how close he was.
“You look tired,” he murmured.
Not pitying.
Just noticing.
Seeing.
“I’m fine.”
“You always say that?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe that’s the problem.”
My steps faltered. His words struck deeper than they should have. He didn’t know me. He shouldn’t have been able to read the exhaustion hiding behind my spine.
But he did.
I picked up my pace, but he matched it easily.
Effortlessly.
He walked like a man who never rushed — but always arrived exactly where he wanted.
“Dami,” he said softly.
I shouldn’t have looked at him.
I knew that.
But I did.
And his eyes…
They were the worst kind of danger — gentle, patient, dark enough to promise things I had no business craving.
“The rain suits you,” he said.
I blinked. “What?”
“You look like a woman who’s been fighting too hard for too long.”
His gaze traveled slowly — my soaked hair, my clenched jaw, the way I held the files like armor.
“And rain… makes fighters honest.”
My pulse jumped.
No one spoke to me like that.
No one dared to.
I tried to laugh it off. “You’re observant.”
“I’m interested.”
My breath caught.
The street was empty, the sky smudged gray, and the city felt like it was holding its breath with me.
“Tobi…” I warned.
“I’m not asking for anything.”
His voice dipped lower, smoother — like silk pulled slowly over the skin.
“I just like watching you try not to look back at me.”
My stomach tightened.
Heat crawled up my throat, spreading low between my thighs. No one had ever spoken to me in a tone like that — calm, confident, laced with a promise he didn’t rush to fulfill.
“Tobi,” I repeated, but this time it came out softer. Almost… breathless.
He stepped closer.
Not enough to touch me, but enough that I felt his body heat mix with mine, enough that the space between us thinned to something almost intimate.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he said.
“I’m not afraid.”
“Then why do you look like you’re about to run?”
“Because you…”
I swallowed.
“…you look at me like you already know me.”
He held my gaze, unblinking.
“Maybe I can just see you clearly.”
A shiver slid down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold.
Before I could answer, thunder rumbled in the distance. We reached the end of the road — the final turn before the bus stop. People rushed around us, but our little space under the umbrella felt untouched, sealed off.
Tobi angled the umbrella more toward me again.
“Just a few more minutes,” he murmured.
His knuckles brushed mine.
Accidental. Maybe.
But my fingers tingled.
He noticed — again — and the slow smile that spread across his lips made my knees feel unsteady.
“My car is close,” he said quietly.
“I could drive you home instead.”
I should’ve said no.
I should’ve walked away.
I should’ve protected the tiny, fragile order in my life.
But his voice…
His presence…
The way he watched me, like he saw every lie I told myself…
Something inside me leaned toward him.
Not logically.
Not safely.
Instinctively.
“Dami,” he breathed, as if tasting my name.
Lightning lit the sky.
And I realized something terrifying:
This stranger was already under my skin.
- Writer
