wrong number connection

Chapter 1: The Wrong Number

Lyndon sat up in his bed, staring into the dark room that felt much too small for the weight on his chest. The soft hum of the city outside only made the silence in his room feel heavier. He glanced at the clock—2:12 AM. Sleep was a foreign concept tonight, his mind buzzing with the remnants of his nightmare.

In the dream, he was running. The streetlights were broken, casting the city into a suffocating darkness. A figure loomed behind him, something unfamiliar but undeniably dangerous. He could feel the cold breath on his neck, the flicker of shadows dancing around him, and then the sharp pain as the blade sank into his side. The pain in his dream was nothing compared to what he felt every day at home, but it was a stark reminder that there was always a threat lurking, something just beyond his control.

Lyndon shoved his blankets off and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His phone, still warm from being in his hand earlier, sat on the nightstand. His fingers trembled as he picked it up, instinctively scrolling through his contacts. There was one person he always texted when things felt like they might spiral, someone who could distract him from his thoughts—his best friend, Amanda. But her name wasn’t at the top of his contact list, and he couldn’t remember if she had been up for the past few days.

With a frustrated sigh, he tapped the first name he saw, hoping for a bit of company, even if it was just a late-night chat to take his mind off the nightmare.

He wasn’t sure what he thought would come of it—he just needed to talk to someone. His thumbs hit the keys quickly, more out of habit than any real thought.

“Hey, I need to talk. I just had the worst nightmare… it was so real. I don’t know what to do anymore…”

He hit send before his brain could catch up with his hands. It wasn’t until he saw the tiny dots appear below the message that his heart skipped a beat. The reply came so quickly.

“You’re not alone. What happened in the nightmare?”

His breath hitched. That was strange. Amanda always took a little longer to respond. He could’ve sworn he’d typed her number right. But... something felt off. The number didn’t seem familiar.

“Who is this?” he typed back, panic rising in his chest.

“Natasha Romanoff. Is everything alright?”

Lyndon froze. There was no way. No. Natasha Romanoff? That couldn’t be real. The name, the iconic association with Black Widow, the woman who was everywhere on the news, the one with the sleek red hair and fierce gaze. Lyndon stared at the message in disbelief, his fingers hovering over the phone. This couldn’t be happening. But his phone screen was glowing with her name.

He quickly typed a hasty apology. “Oh my god. I’m sorry, I thought I was texting a friend. I didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll just—”

Before he could delete the message, the dots appeared again, a new message coming through.

“It’s fine. I’m up working on a report. What happened in the nightmare?”

Lyndon’s eyes widened. It was as if she wasn’t phased by the mistake, wasn’t brushing him off. Her response wasn’t filled with judgment or harsh words—it was kind, even calming. It felt wrong, but somehow... right. He felt stupid, but at the same time, something deep inside him urged him to respond.

“I... I was on patrol,” Lyndon wrote, his fingers hesitating as he considered how much to say. The shadows from his dream were still creeping into his mind, tainting his words. “I was out, trying to escape my mom’s place, you know? I... I got hurt, and I couldn’t run anymore.”

The words seemed to spill out, too fast to catch. He didn’t care how much he revealed to a stranger, especially someone like her. Maybe it was easier to talk to a superhero—someone who could understand pain, someone who fought it every day.

“What happened after that?” came Natasha’s response.

Lyndon let out a shaky breath. There was something in her reply that made him feel like he wasn’t just another anonymous person she was texting. She genuinely seemed interested.

He sat in the quiet darkness for a moment, considering his response. “I couldn’t get away. I was stabbed. And I don’t think I could do anything about it. I woke up, but it felt... real, you know? Like I’m always one step away from that.”

Another pause. Then, Natasha’s words appeared.

“I get it. I’ve been there. You don’t need to carry all that weight alone. You’re not in this fight by yourself.”

Lyndon didn’t know what to say. He had expected judgment, a dismissive comment, maybe even for her to tell him to seek professional help. But this? This felt different. He wasn’t sure why he felt like he could trust this woman, someone he had never met, someone whose life was beyond his comprehension. But somehow, in that moment, he did. He felt a little less... alone.

“I don’t know why you’re up at 2 AM helping a stranger,” Lyndon replied, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the weight on his chest. “But thanks. Seriously. I don’t have anyone else to talk to. You’re... the first person who’s made me feel like I’m not just...”

He paused, uncertain of how to finish the sentence. “Not just some freak, I guess.”

There was a long pause. But then the reply came, simple but impactful.

“You’re not a freak, Lyndon. You’re someone who’s been through hell and still fights. That takes strength. And I know what that strength looks like.”

Lyndon’s heart thudded painfully in his chest. His phone had gone silent again, but the words lingered in his mind. Natasha Romanoff—Black Widow herself—had just told him that he was strong.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Lyndon didn’t feel entirely hopeless.

---

The night wore on, and though he didn’t fall asleep right away, Lyndon found comfort in the strange but calming exchange. A superhero—someone who saved the world, someone who lived a life he could never imagine—had just offered him something priceless: validation.

And though he didn’t realize it in that moment, that single, accidental message was the beginning of something much bigger than a simple text conversation.

It was the start of a new kind of family.