Untitled story

*Accidentally Yours*

Ep 1: Hot Souce & Hijinks

By its.karuri.ke

Maya Kamau didn’t wake up to birds chirping or sunlight streaming through linen curtains.

She woke up to the sound of her neighbor’s toddler screaming like a banshee through the shared wall of her apartment in Lavington’s not so luxury flats, and her period app reminding her she was three days late.

“Jesus. Pick a struggle,” she muttered, rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

The Monday felt suspicious. The kind of morning where even her cat who usually greeted her with judgmental meows was absent from the windowsill.

She dragged herself out of bed, stepped on a phone charger, cursed her entire bloodline, and made it to the kitchen. Her kettle had decided it wasn’t in the mood to boil water. Neither was her gas burner. So much for chai.

By the time she threw on her hoodie and mismatched socks, she looked like a heartbroken art student. Which, to be fair, wasn’t far off. Maya had been single for eight months, exactly two weeks longer than she’d had the emotional capacity to tolerate men.

Her last situationship had ended via WhatsApp voice note. The man, Dennis had said he needed “time to discover himself spiritually,” and two days later, he posted a vacation photo with his new girl at Diani’s Swahili Beach.

She’d screenshotted the post and sent it to her best friend Vanessa with the caption:

"Spiritual journey must’ve involved her thighs."

Maya wasn’t bitter. Not anymore. She was thriving. Sort of.

Her weekdays were predictable:

> Wake up late.

> Curse Telkom WiFi.

> Work half the day on a logo she didn’t care about.

> Spend the other half doom-scrolling through Twitter and silently judging influencers.

> Microwave leftovers for dinner.

> Watch a romcom and pretend her life didn’t feel like a loop.

At 10:30 a.m., the doorbell buzzed. She wasn’t expecting anything unless her lazily placed Jumia order from last month had resurrected itself.

She shuffled to the door, hoodie swallowing her head, and opened it.

There he stood.

Tall, dark skinned. A trimmed beard that screamed “I moisturize with cocoa butter.” His hoodie was cut perfectly at the chest, and he held a brown paper bag with a delivery receipt flapping in the wind.

“Delivery for... Diana?” he said, glancing at his phone.

Maya looked at the bag. “Do I look like a Diana?”

He raised an eyebrow, taking in her oversized hoodie and frown. “You look like someone who hasn’t had coffee. Which, scientifically, reduces your right to bite.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you flirting, insulting me, or lost?”

He grinned. “All three. Multitasking.”

She crossed her arms. “Diana lives next door. How new are you?”

“New-ish. First day doing this zone,” he replied casually, tapping on his phone. “Nice area. No one tries to stab you for forgetting serviettes. Yet.”

She rolled her eyes. “Just knock on 3B. And next time, confirm the damn names.”

He handed her the package. “Actually... she said to leave it with ‘the neighbor who never smiles.’”

Maya blinked.

“Her words, not mine,” he added quickly.

“Well, tell her the next time her orgasm machine comes to my door, I’m keeping it.”

He laughed. A loud, confident laugh that sounded far too sexy for a man with poor logistics skills.

“You’re a firecracker,” he said, tapping his app to mark the delivery. “What’s your name?”

“Why?”

“Because it’s rude to fall in lust without an introduction.”

She snorted. “Keep walking, Leo DiCaprio.”

He raised both hands. “Name’s Leo, actually. Leo Mwaura.”

She stared at him blankly. “You’re lying.”

“Swear on my mpesa balance. I can show you my ID.”

“I don’t trust men who know how to wink and cook ugali,” she replied.

He leaned in slightly. “Who said I can cook?”

She slammed the door with a smirk.

LATER THAT WEEK...

The interaction should’ve ended there. Just another good looking guy passing through.

But Nairobi had other plans.

Over the next few days, Leo kept reappearing like a bad decision in a club.

On Wednesday, he showed up delivering groceries next door. He waved through her window with a cocky smile.

On Friday, she bumped into him at Quickmart. He was in the wine section, arguing with a lady about why boxed wine deserves more respect.

She caught him staring at her as she passed the cereal aisle. He lifted a box of Weetabix.

“For strong strokes,” he said.

She snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re smiling,” he replied, eyes locking with hers. “Progress.”

On Saturday, she sat at Seagull Café, working on a logo design when he walked in. Again. Ordered a cappuccino. Noticed her. Sat across from her without asking.

She looked up, unimpressed. “Are you stalking me?”

“Are you worth stalking?”

“You tell me.”

He leaned in, stealing one of her fries. “Still deciding. But so far? Yes.”

She chuckled. For the first time in a while, she felt it, something unspoken curling in her chest. Attraction. Irritation. The electric space between strangers who might just ruin each other in the best way.

“I have rules,” she said.

“Breakable?”

“Firm.”

He smirked. “Firm is fun.”

Saturday night, and Maya’s apartment felt like a sauna in hell. Nairobi’s heat wave had no manners, and her old fan was wheezing like a dying goat.

She was sprawled on the floor in biker shorts and a tank top, trying to finish a poster design for a client who “wanted it urgent” and hadn’t replied in 48 hours.

Her phone buzzed. Vanessa.

Vanessa Njoroge was her best friend since Daystar University days loud, smart, and forever in a talking stage.

The voice note played:

> "Babes, don’t forget Linda’s birthday dinner tonight. And wear something short. Or tight. Or both. These Nairobi men are useless, but you never know.”

Maya responded with a thumbs up emoji and continued sipping her lukewarm juice. She had zero intention of attending.

Five minutes later, her neighbor Diana knocked yes, the “Intimate Essentials” neighbor.

“Hey Maya, have you seen the delivery guy around?” Diana asked, brushing her long braids behind her ear.

“Which one? Nairobi’s full of disappointments in uniform.”

Diana grinned. “The hot one. With the lips.”

Maya narrowed her eyes. “Leo?”

“Yesss,” Diana purred. “That one. I think he gave me his number, but it got deleted.”

Maya shrugged. “Maybe it was divine intervention. Or your vibrator working overtime.”

Diana rolled her eyes, laughing. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.”

Maya shut the door with a polite smile.

The audacity.

She sat down, heart thumping slightly harder than necessary. Why was Diana looking for him? Why did she care?

LATER THAT EVENING

Around 6:30 p.m., just as Maya had convinced herself she would not text him, her door buzzed. Again.

Leo.

Black t-shirt, joggers, white sneakers, holding a food delivery bag and a six pack of Smirnoff.

“Before you slam the door again,” he said, holding it with one hand, “hear me out.”

She folded her arms. “You stalking me again?”

He grinned. “No. I got assigned your block. Lucky me.”

“Or cursed.”

He glanced inside. “Working on Saturday night?”

“Yes. Unlike people who flirt for a living.”

He stepped in without being invited, bold and placed the food on her kitchen counter.

“What are you doing?” she asked, half laughing.

“Feeding you. You look like the kind of woman who forgets to eat when she’s pissed off.”

Maya stared. He wasn’t wrong.

“Fine. You cook. I supervise.”

“Deal.”

30 MINUTES LATER

He was cooking actual onions and garlic in a pan and the smell was driving her insane. Not just the food. Him. His sleeves were rolled, forearms flexing, the chain on his neck catching light every time he turned.

She sat on the kitchen stool, sipping wine and pretending not to notice.

“So,” she said, “do you cook for all the women who threaten to stab you with sarcasm?”

“Only the cute ones.”

“That’s sexist.”

“That’s facts.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And you’re this confident with everyone?”

He leaned in slightly. “No. You make it fun.”

Before she could respond, there was a knock.

Vanessa.

Maya opened the door, wine glass in hand.

Vanessa looked her up and down, then behind her at Leo.

“Wow. Okay. I see you’re busy,” she said, smirking.

“Don’t start.”

“Oh, I will. Because that’s a man cooking. And we know what that means.”

Leo looked up. “That I’m available for catering?”

Vanessa laughed, instantly liking him. “Or dating. Or both.”

Maya rolled her eyes. “He’s just feeding me. Calm your ovaries.”

Vanessa turned to Maya and whispered, “He looks like he eats ass. And does taxes.”

Maya choked on her wine.

Leo, from the kitchen, said, “I’m not hearing what you’re whispering but... thank you.”

DINNER

They sat at her tiny table Leo, Maya, and Vanessa. The spaghetti bolognese was somehow perfect.

“Wait,” Vanessa said, pointing her fork, “you’re telling me you just met him this week?”

“Technically, yes.”

“And he’s here. Cooking.”

Maya shrugged. “He just... showed up.”

Leo added, “She couldn’t resist my charm. Or my meatballs.”

Vanessa grinned. “I bet your balls are legendary.”

Maya glared at her. “Can you not?”

Leo just smiled, then met Maya’s eyes across the table. There it was, that look. Not sexual. Not even romantic. Just real. Like he saw her. Like he was reading every wall she didn’t know she had.

Vanessa, sensing the tension, stood up. “I should leave before I become the awkward third wheel.”

“You were always awkward,” Maya said.

“True. But now I’m full and cockblocked.”

Vanessa left with a hug and a whisper: “If you don’t climb that man, I will. Try me.”

LATE NIGHT

Maya cleaned the dishes as Leo dried.

The energy shifted, quieter now. Intimate. Comfortable.

“You’re nothing like I expected,” she said finally.

“What did you expect?”

“Another guy who uses charm like a condom. For temporary effect.”

He looked at her seriously. “I’ve used charm. But never on someone I actually liked.”

Her heart did a stupid skip.

“That’s very Hallmark of you,” she muttered, breaking eye contact.

He stepped closer. Not touching, but near enough that she felt him.

“I want to kiss you,” he said softly.

She bit her lip. “I know.”

“But I won’t. Not tonight.”

She blinked. “Why?”

“Because you’re already thinking about it too much.”

She scoffed. “You think I’m overthinking?”

“I think you’re scared it’ll mean something.”

Silence.

And with that, he picked up his jacket and walked to the door.

“Goodnight, Maya.”

She stood frozen, heart hammering, and whispered into the empty room after he left:

“Goodnight... Leo.”

_What do you think will happen next😜😂😂😂 follow for more @its.karuri.ke