Nigeria, Abuja (Asokoro)
Zaydan Holding, Second Branch
Vice Chairman’s Office
(The vice chairman’s office is spacious and luxurious, designed with floor to ceiling glass walls that overlook the beautiful cityscape of Abuja. The early morning sunlight reflects against the polished marble floor, giving the room a soft golden glow. A large mahogany desk sits at the center, neatly arranged with files, a sleek laptop, and a gold plated name tag.)
(Ridwan sits behind the desk, dressed in a crisp tailored suit, his white and black Muslim cap resting perfectly on his head. His expression is calm yet stern as he flips through a stack of files with focused attention.)
Ridwan: (busy going through some files) Hmm… interesting… (his phone begins to ring. He glances at the screen and notices it is a private number. His brows narrow slightly before he dismisses the call and returns to reading)
(There is a gentle knock at the glass door.)
Omotosho: (standing respectfully by the entrance) Can I, sir?
Ridwan: (without looking up, gestures approval with two fingers) Yeah.
(Omotosho enters the office, dressed in a well fitted corporate suit, holding a tablet tightly under his arm. His steps are careful and professional as he approaches the desk.)
Omotosho: Good morning to you, sir.
Ridwan: Morning… (still focused on the file) Please sit and give me a second.
Omotosho: Got it, boss. (takes a seat, leaning back slightly while his eyes wander around the expensive office decor)
(The room falls into brief silence except for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the occasional flipping of pages.)
Ridwan: (finally shuts the file, exhaling deeply) Uhmm… sorry about that?
Omotosho: No problem, sir. Chief actually sent me to you.
Ridwan: My dad? (leans back into his chair, visibly tired) What again this time? Hearing from him these days is overwhelming.
Omotosho: (lets out a small chuckle) Well… he asked me to show you this. (slides the tablet forward) Please read through.
Ridwan: (takes it, slightly annoyed) Why can’t he just forward it to me directly? Why the ceremony?
Omotosho: Because it’s very confidential, sir.
(Ridwan scrolls through the document. His expression slowly changes from indifference to visible interest.)
Ridwan: Hmmmmm… wow! This will be a hit if we get this contract. This is amazing! What are we waiting for? Let’s begin.
Omotosho: Actually… the ball is in your court, sir.
Ridwan: (raises an eyebrow) What do you mean?
Omotosho: Our success on this project depends entirely on you, sir.
Ridwan: How?
Omotosho: This proposal can only be granted if you agree to marry their daughter.
(A thick silence fills the office.)
(Ridwan freezes, staring at him blankly as though he has just heard the most ridiculous statement of the century.)
Ridwan: (after a pause) Then we’ll wait for a better offer in the future. Uhmm… I need to get back to work. Shut the door behind you.
Omotosho: But sir… this is billions of dollars we are talking about.
Ridwan: We are done here. Kindly take your leave.
Omotosho: (trying to stay composed) Sir… I know I’m in no position to persuade you, but this is a huge opportunity—
(Suddenly, Ridwan slams his palm hard against the table, making the files shake.)
Ridwan: (silent but visibly furious)
Omotosho: (tightens his jaw, then bows slightly) Very well then. Do have a lovely day, sir. (turns and exits)
(The office falls silent once more.)
Ridwan: (muttering to himself) I will not ruin my life for this company. There is a limit to everything in life.
(His phone rings again. Same private number.)
(He stares at it in irritation, jaw clenched.)
Ridwan: (finally answers) Hello?
Hannah: You are harder than I thought.
Ridwan: Excuse me? (checks the screen again)
Hannah: Anyways… we need to meet and plan our wedding. We don’t have much time.
Ridwan: (instantly recognizes the voice and hangs up) Don’t even start.
(The phone rings again almost immediately.)
Ridwan: Subhanallah! Haba, this girl! (switches off the phone)
(Just as he is about to continue his work, the office landline rings.)
(He stares at it suspiciously before picking up.)
Ridwan: Hello?
Chief Badmus: Would you quit ignoring her and hear her out? Why are you doing this?
Ridwan: Who are you talking about?
Chief Badmus: Hannah, of course! You know… sometimes I wish I had another son. You are a pain in the ass. Just marry the rich heiress. How bad can that be?
(Ridwan leans back slowly in his chair, rubbing his forehead in frustration as he stares at the city through the glass wall.)
Ridwan: Dad… she is white! How can I even marry a white girl? That is not on my list. She is not even a Muslim… and… and—
Chief Badmus: Oh! So you are a racist now? Tell me!
Ridwan: Look, Dad… I have to go. I have a lot on my desk right now.
Chief Badmus: If you dare hang up on me! Now listen very carefully… you must get married to that girl. That’s a command! If truly I am your father, turn that phone back on and hear her out. (hangs up)
(The call ends.)
(The office suddenly becomes quiet again, leaving only the faint sound of the air conditioner humming softly in the background.)
(Ridwan lowers the phone slowly and exhales through his nose, trying to calm the frustration building inside him.)
Ridwan: (murmurs) Hmmmmm…
(He stares at the dark screen of his phone for a long moment, deep in thought. His jaw tightens slightly before he finally powers the phone back on.)
(Immediately, the phone begins to ring.)
(Ridwan scoffs lightly.)
Ridwan: Oh! She is really in haste. (answers the call) Listen, woman! If you know you are just going to—
Hannah: (soft trembling tone) I need your help… please…
(Ridwan suddenly goes silent.)
(The irritation on his face fades into confusion. That was not the arrogant, sharp tongued Hannah he expected.)
Ridwan: (caught off guard) What… what do you mean by that?
(Hannah’s breathing can be heard faintly from the other end, as though she has been under pressure for hours.)
Hannah: Can we talk in person? Please… I’m at the airport, coming to Nigeria. Let’s meet at that same spot by five. Please… take care. (hangs up)
Ridwan: Hello???
(He pulls the phone away from his ear and stares at it blankly.)
Ridwan: Well… that was unexpected…
(He places the phone on the desk and shakes his head dismissively.)
Ridwan: Sorry to burst her bubble, but I’m not going anywhere.
(He reaches for the file on his desk and opens it, attempting to focus.)
(But his movement slowly stops.)
(Her voice replays in his head.)
“I need your help… please…”
(His eyes narrow slightly.)
Ridwan: But she sounded worried…
(He quickly brushes the thought aside and forces himself back into his usual composure.)
Ridwan: Anyways, that is none of my business. All I know is… I’m not going. Period.
(He picks up the file again, but this time, his attention is no longer fully there.)
------------------
Nigeria, Abuja
Lux Cafe
5:30 PM
(The Lux Cafe is elegant and sophisticated, filled with soft jazz music and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Warm golden lights hang from the ceiling, casting a cozy glow over polished wooden tables and luxurious leather chairs.)
(A sleek black vehicle pulls up outside.)
(The driver quickly steps out and opens the rear door.)
(Ridwan emerges, dressed sharply in a navy blue suit paired with a white shirt, polished shoes, and his signature white and black Muslim cap. His presence is commanding yet effortlessly refined.)
(He adjusts the cuffs of his suit before walking into the café.)
(His sharp eyes scan the room, searching for Hannah, but she is nowhere in sight.)
(A waiter approaches immediately.)
Waiter: Good evening, sir. This way, please.
(Ridwan is escorted to a reserved table by the window.)
(He sits elegantly, places his tablet on the table, and orders while waiting.)
(Ten minutes later, he is in the middle of an online meeting, speaking confidently to a client.)
Ridwan: I promise you won’t ever regret giving us this contract.
(Client’s voice echoes softly from the tablet.)
Client: I know we won’t. I’ll forward the necessary details to your secretary.
(Just then, a feminine figure stops in front of him.)
(Hannah.)
(She is dressed in an expensive fitted outfit that screams quiet luxury. Her blonde hair is neatly styled, and despite her composed expression, there is visible exhaustion in her eyes.)
(She sits gracefully across from him, crossing one leg over the other while waiting for him to finish.)
Ridwan: Alright, sir. Do have a lovely day. (ends the call and finally looks at her) You are always late, like I have nothing important to do.
(His eyes briefly scan her face.)
Ridwan: So what is it this time? Because trust me, I’m not marrying you. I don’t mind losing everything.
Hannah: Then why did you come?
Ridwan: Well… uhmm… (clears throat awkwardly) You sounded worried on the phone.
(A faint smile appears on Hannah’s lips.)
Hannah: Awwnn… you care about me?
Ridwan: I care less about you. I don’t even know who you are.
(Hannah sighs, her playful expression fading into something more serious.)
Hannah: Look… I need your help.
(Her voice is softer now, stripped of its usual arrogance. Her fingers lightly trace the edge of the table, a subtle sign of tension she is trying hard to hide.)
(Ridwan leans back slightly, his eyes narrowing as he studies her. For the first time, he is not seeing just a spoiled rich girl. There is something unsettled beneath her calm.)
Ridwan: (quietly) What… do you mean by that?
(Hannah exhales slowly, as though gathering the courage to say what she has been holding in.)
Hannah: Can we talk properly? Please… I didn’t come all the way here to joke.
(The waiter returns with her coffee, gently placing it on the table. The aroma rises between them, but neither of them pays attention.)
(Hannah wraps both hands around the cup, not drinking, just holding it for warmth and steadiness.)
Hannah: I know the last time we met didn’t end well… I was rude. I admit that. I should have handled things better.
Ridwan: (coldly) Too late for that.
Hannah: (quickly) And you were rude too.
(Ridwan gives a short, dry laugh and begins to stand.)
Ridwan: I can see you only called me here for entertainment. Please excuse me.
(Hannah’s composure cracks for a brief second.)
Hannah: Ridwan, please wait.
(Her voice is firmer now, carrying urgency.)
(His movement pauses. He doesn’t turn immediately.)
Hannah: Look… I’m sorry. For everything. Just sit, please. I promise I won’t waste your time. I also have a flight tonight… I need to leave. Just hear me out.
(A beat of silence.)
(His jaw tightens, then relaxes.)
(Ridwan exhales deeply and returns to his seat, though his body remains slightly turned away from her.)
Ridwan: I’m listening.
(Hannah nods slowly, grateful, though she doesn’t show it too much.)
Hannah: Where do I even begin… (she pauses, searching for words) I know we are completely different people. Different worlds. I should have respected that from the start.
(She lowers her gaze briefly, then looks back at him.)
Hannah: But this… this arrangement… it’s not just about business for me.
(Ridwan’s fingers begin tapping lightly on the table, a sign of impatience mixed with curiosity.)
Hannah: I have a personal mission. Something I need to do. And I can’t do it unless I become part of your family company.
Ridwan: (sharply) What mission?
Hannah: (shakes her head) I can’t tell you.
(Ridwan lets out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head.)
Ridwan: You expect me to involve my family and company in something you can’t even explain? That’s not happening.
(Hannah leans forward slightly, her voice almost breaking but controlled.)
Hannah: Just one year. That’s all I’m asking. One year, and we go our separate ways. No complications. No emotions. Just a contract.
(She swallows hard.)
Hannah: We don’t have to live together. I already bought a place here in Nigeria. We won’t disturb each other. I just need the title… Mrs… for now.
(She finally lifts her coffee and takes a small sip, though her hands are not completely steady.)
(Ridwan watches her carefully, his tapping slowing down.)
Ridwan: (quietly) What exactly are you running from?
(Hannah freezes slightly at the question, then looks away.)
Hannah: I’m not running… I’m fighting back.
(A silence settles between them.)
Ridwan: (leans forward slightly) Then explain.
(Hannah hesitates. Her eyes flicker with something deeper, darker.)
Hannah: You have no idea what I’ve been through.
(Ridwan raises an eyebrow, unconvinced.)
Ridwan: Really? Tell me… were you starving? Sleeping on the streets? Working like a slave?
Hannah: No…
Ridwan: Then don’t tell me about suffering.
(Hannah’s jaw tightens. Her voice drops.)
Hannah: I was thrown into the ocean to die by my stepmother.
(The words land heavily.)
(Ridwan’s expression shifts, just slightly. He wasn’t expecting that.)
(Hannah continues, her voice steady but carrying pain beneath it.)
Hannah: I survived because a stranger found me. And when I got back home… she told everyone I made it up. That I was playing.
(She lets out a soft, bitter laugh.)
Hannah: That wasn’t the only time. They’ve tried… more than once.
(She looks at him now, directly.)
Hannah: I don’t even know how I’m still alive.
(The café noise fades into the background for a moment. Even the clinking of cups feels distant.)
(Ridwan looks at her longer this time. Not judging. Just observing.)
(For the first time, he sees something real.)
(He clears his throat, straightening slightly.)
Ridwan: (calm, guarded) I’ll… send the form.
(Hannah blinks, surprised.)
Ridwan: (standing, adjusting his suit) That’s all I can say for now.
(He places some cash on the table without checking the bill.)
Ridwan: Do have a good day.
(He turns and walks away without looking back.)
(Hannah sits there, staring at the table, her expression unreadable. Relief and uncertainty mix in her eyes.)
Outside the Cafe
(The evening sun casts a warm orange glow across the street. Cars move steadily, and the city hums with life.)
(Ridwan steps into the car as the driver opens the door.)
(He pauses for a brief second, glancing back through the glass window of the café.)
(He sees her. Sitting alone.)
(His expression hardens again.)
(He enters the car.)
Ridwan: Let’s go.
Driver: Yes, sir.
(The car engine starts, smoothly pulling away from the curb.)
(Inside the moving car, Ridwan leans back, staring out the window.)
(Her words replay in his mind.)
“I was thrown into the ocean to die…”
(He exhales slowly, closing his eyes for a brief moment.)
Ridwan: (murmurs to himself) This is trouble…
(The city lights begin to flicker on as the car disappears into the evening traffic.)
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