The dinner

The university gates were crowded with students hugging, laughing, taking final pictures, and dragging their suitcases out to waiting taxis. The late afternoon sun was soft, warm over the tall buildings, and the air carried that bittersweet excitement that comes with finally finishing school.

Khalid stood near the parking lot with his luggage beside him, wearing a black shirt and jeans, his hair brushed neatly. He looked calm, but his eyes were tired-partly from packing all night, partly from what was coming.

Nahla walked toward him slowly.

For the first time in a long while, she wasn't wearing makeup. Her hazel eyes looked raw and emotional, her long, slick brown hair tied in a low ponytail. She looked beautiful in that simple way-the kind that hurts when you stare too long.

When she reached him, she didn't speak immediately. She just looked at him, eyes glassy.

"So... you're really going," she finally whispered.

Khalid nodded gently. "My parents have been waiting. It's time I go home."

She swallowed hard, looking away for a second before turning back to him. "I don't want you to go."

He sighed and stepped a bit closer-not touching, but close enough that their breaths mingled. "Nahla, it's not forever. I'll come back."

Her voice trembled. "Do you promise?"

"I promise," he said softly. "Insha'Allah, when I come back... we'll fix everything. And yes-" he exhaled slowly, "-I will marry you."

A small, broken sound escaped her lips. Not quite a sob, but close.

She stepped forward and held his shirt tightly, burying her face in his chest for a moment - clinging like she was afraid he would disappear if she blinked. Her shoulders shook once, then twice, but she tried to hide the rest.

"Khalid... just don't forget me," she whispered.

He gently rested his chin above her head. "I could never forget you, Nahla. You know that."

She nodded against him, then pulled back and wiped her cheeks quickly. "Farhan is waiting," she whispered, forcing a small smile. "You should go before he starts shouting across the parking lot."

Khalid chuckled softly. "He probably will."

Nahla reached for his hand one last time, squeezing it. "Be safe. Call me when you land."

"I will," he promised.

Their eyes held each other for a long, quiet moment - the kind that feels like a photograph the heart keeps forever.

Then Khalid picked up his suitcase, looked back at her once more, and walked away.

Nahla stood there until he disappeared through the gate, her hands slightly trembling. She didn't move even after he was gone-she just stood still, like she was holding her breath inside her chest.

---

SCENE - IN THE AIRPLANE

Khalid sat by the window. Farhan dropped into the seat beside him with a grin that was too wide for the mood.

"So," Farhan said, fastening his seatbelt. "How does it feel, Mr. Lover Boy, leaving your precious Nahla behind?"

Khalid rolled his eyes. "Farhan, please. Not today."

But Farhan didn't stop. He leaned back comfortably. "No, I'm serious. You two were clinging like a telenovela couple. I'm surprised she didn't tie herself to your suitcase."

Khalid stared out the window, watching the runway lights. "She didn't want me to go."

Farhan's teasing softened. "I know. But she'll be fine."

Khalid nodded slowly. "I'll come back for her. I meant what I said."

Farhan smiled. "I know. And honestly? She's crazy, dramatic, too emotional... but she loves you. And you love her. Just make sure you don't break her."

Khalid looked away from the window finally, his voice calmer. "I won't."

The engines began to roar. The plane shook slightly as it prepared to rise.

Khalid leaned back, folded his arms, and whispered more to himself than to Farhan-

"Insha'Allah... I'll come back for her."

The Abuja sun was just beginning to sink when the private jet touched down, casting long golden shadows across the runway. Khalid descended first, his posture straight, his expression calm... but the moment his feet met the Nigerian ground again, a wave of memories swept through him - childhood, expectations, duty.

Before he could take another breath, a familiar figure rushed forward.

Haidar Ali.

The man didn't walk - he strode, powerful and commanding, surrounded by bodyguards who bowed their heads as he passed. His presence alone made people step aside.

But the moment his eyes landed on Khalid, something softened.

He opened his arms slightly.

"Khalid."

Khalid stepped forward, and his grandfather pulled him into a firm embrace - something Haidar never did with anyone else. Not even his own son.

"You're finally home," Haidar said, releasing him but keeping one hand on his shoulder. "My pride. My blood."

Khalid smiled. "I missed you, Baba."

Haidar's eyes shone with quiet satisfaction. "Of course you did. There is no place better than the land of your forefathers."

Farhan descended next, greeting Haidar with respect.

Haidar nodded at him. "You've done well staying by his side."

Farhan grinned. "Always, sir. He's my brother."

Haidar's attention returned immediately to Khalid - as if the world existed behind him, not around him.

"Come," Haidar said. "The cars are waiting. The whole household has been preparing. They've missed you."

Khalid followed him, walking side by side - a rare privilege only he had. Even Adam, Haidar's own son, never got such treatment.

As they approached the convoy, Haidar spoke in that deep, commanding voice feared by businessmen across Abuja.

"You have finished school. From today onwards, you enter the real world. My world. And I will teach you myself."

"I'm ready," Khalid replied.

"I know you are." Haidar's lips curved - not into a smile, but something close. "You are like me. Strong. Decisive. You do not bend for anyone."

Farhan whispered sarcastically under his breath, "Except Nahla," but quickly shut up when Haidar turned sharply.

"What was that?" Haidar asked.

Farhan straightened. "Nothing, sir. Just... admiring the airport."

Khalid bit back a smile.

They reached the black SUVs lined up in a perfect row. Guards opened the doors instantly.

But Haidar paused, looking at Khalid again - deep, long, proud.

"You are the only light in my old age," he said quietly. "My son disappointed me. He was weak. He made choices that cost him everything."

Khalid's expression hardened. He rarely spoke about his father.

"You, Khalid... you will erase every mistake your father made. You will bring back honor to this family."

Khalid simply nodded.

Haidar touched his cheek gently - a gesture no one would ever believe he was capable of.

"You are the only one I love in this world," he whispered. "Never forget that."

The words sank deep. They always did. Because Haidar said them rarely... and only to him.

They entered the car. The convoy began to move.

As the city lights of Abuja stretched around him, Farhan nudged Khalid lightly.

"Your grandfather loves you more than the whole country," he whispered.

Khalid exhaled. "I know."

"And Nahla?" Farhan teased. "Does she love you that much?"

A small, soft smile touched Khalid's lips - the kind only Nahla could pull out of him.

"She said she'll wait for me," he replied. "And I'll go back for her. I promised."

Farhan nudged him again. "InshaAllah, you will marry her."

"InshaAllah," Khalid murmured.

The car sped through the night, heading toward the grand mansion - toward the life waiting for him, toward responsibilities, toward trials he didn't yet see.

But one thing was clear:

Haidar Ali, the ruthless king of Abuja's business world, had his heir back.

And he would not let anyone - or anything - come between him and Khalid.

The mansion gates swung open, revealing the long driveway lined with palm trees, guards, and golden lantern lights leading toward the enormous main house. Even from outside, the place radiated power - Haidar's power.

Inside, the staff stood in two straight lines, heads bowed.

"Khalid, welcome home," they echoed.

But Khalid barely noticed the grandeur. His mind flickered to Nahla, to her last words, to how tightly she'd held his hand at the airport.

He pushed the thought aside. He couldn't slip. Not in Haidar's house.

Tonight was family dinner - the first time in months they would all sit together, only because Khalid had returned. Otherwise, Haidar preferred to eat alone, far from those who irritated him... and nearly everyone irritated him.

Khalid stepped into the dining hall.

The long table gleamed, covered in dishes cooked by the best chefs - jollof, peppered chicken, lamb, soups, fresh bread. Everything Haidar liked. And everything he knew Khalid liked.

Adam sat stiffly at one end of the table, his face calm but his shoulders tense. Sukaina - Khalid's mother - sat beside him, her posture delicate and composed, though her eyes did not meet Haidar's even once.

She knew he despised her.

The moment Haidar walked in, silence fell, deep and immediate. His presence filled the room like a storm entering quietly.

He took his seat at the head of the table.

"Khalid," Haidar said without looking at anyone else, "sit by me."

Khalid obeyed and sat to his right - the seat reserved only for the person Haidar respected most.

As they began to eat, the tension was so thick that even the clink of cutlery sounded loud.

Haidar finally looked up at Khalid.

"Tell me about Iran."

Khalid swallowed. He could feel Sukaina watching him with a soft, hopeful expression - she always wanted him to talk about his experiences kindly. Adam looked cautiously curious.

But Haidar's eyes were sharp. Expecting. Measuring.

Khalid chose his words carefully.

"It was good," he said. "The university was strong. The environment disciplined. I learned a lot, especially about leadership, organization, and political studies."

Haidar nodded slowly.

"And the people? The city? Did you mingle?"

Khalid's throat tightened.

Images flashed in his mind - Nahla smiling with her books, her voice soft when she whispered, 'Come back for me.'

He kept his face calm.

"The people were respectful," he said. "But I stayed focused on my studies."

Farhan coughed to hide a small laugh. Khalid kicked his foot under the table.

Haidar leaned back, satisfied.

"Good. Distraction is death. A man who loses focus loses everything."

Sukaina's eyes lowered, sadness shifting across her face. She knew Haidar was targeting her - reminding her of decisions she once made. Adam clenched his jaw but remained silent.

"And the women?" Haidar asked suddenly. "Iranian girls are known to be... soft-spoken."

Khalid nearly choked on his drink.

Farhan looked down at his plate immediately.

"There were women," Khalid said carefully, "but none who distracted me."

He looked directly into his grandfather's eyes. "I did not forget why you sent me."

Haidar's lips curved, pleased.

"That is why you are my grandson."

Sukaina flinched at the emphasis. Adam stared at his plate, hurt shadowing his face. Haidar had never seen him the same way he saw Khalid.

"And now you are a man," Haidar continued. "Iran shaped you. You left as a boy but returned stronger. Wiser. Ready."

Khalid nodded.

Haidar picked up a glass of water, swirling it thoughtfully.

"You will start training with me next week. Attend meetings. Learn every part of the business. I built an empire for you - not for weak people."

His eyes drifted briefly to Adam.

Then to Sukaina.

Both looked away.

The air thickened with unspoken wounds.

Khalid shifted uncomfortably. He loved his grandfather deeply, but this sharp tension... he hated it.

"Baba," he said softly, "let's eat."

Haidar blinked once, then nodded, allowing the subject to drop.

The clinking continued, conversation almost nonexistent.

But Khalid's mind wasn't on the dinner.

It was on Nahla's face when she promised, 'InshaAllah, you will come back for me.'

He kept his expression calm, his breathing steady.

He could not let Haidar see what - or who - was living in his heart.

Not yet.