The afternoon sun was relentless, baking the walls of Shakira's house as four teenage friends huddled together, focused on a game of "Spin the Letter." In their world, the rules were simple: the letter the wheel landed on dictated your future husband's name. If you couldn't pick a name yourself, your friends would do it for you—usually with mischievous results.
Despite her usual confidence, Shakira hesitated when it was her turn. She stared at the wheel as if it held her actual destiny. Finally, she gave it a reluctant spin.
Before the wheel could even come to a stop, her grandmother's voice pierced the air from outside. "Shakira! Kira, come help me carry these groceries to Granny Naty!"
Saved by the bell, Shakira leaped to her feet. She dashed outside, glad for the excuse to escape the game, even though she knew her friends wouldn't let her off that easily.
Back in the room, Fina wore a sheepish, devious grin. She looked at Nafi and Hima. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"How would we know what's in that head of yours?" Nafi laughed.
"Kira got the letter 'N'," Fina pointed out. "Why don't we call him... Nur?"
"Why not Naj?" Hima suggested.
Fina's grin widened. "Why don't we give her Nazir?"
The room went silent for a heartbeat before Nafi and Hima's eyes nearly popped out of their heads. "Yes! Nazir!" they shouted in unison. They burst into a rhythmic chant, dancing their way out of the house and onto the street: "Kira will marry Nazir! Nazir, Nazir! Beautiful babies, life full of happiness!"
As they walked home, their singing echoed through the neighborhood. Passersby froze. The name "Nazir" didn't belong to just anyone—it belonged to the most powerful, handsome billionaire bachelor in the city of Bashasha.
"Shakira is betrothed to Nazir?" the neighbors whispered, the shock spreading like wildfire. "How? When?"
While the rumor took flight, Shakira returned from her errand, blissfully unaware. She breathed a sigh of relief finding her friends gone and headed straight to the kitchen to start supper.
Meanwhile, in a sleek glass office in the heart of the city, the real Nazir was frowning at his phone. He buzzed his assistant. "Find out where Jannah is," he commanded, his voice cold. His younger sister had slipped her security detail again, and his mother was frantic. He had no idea that across town, his name was already being tied to a girl he had never met.