The Essence of Love.
Episode - 1
Rain slicks the pub windows. Inside, the air hums with bass-heavy music and laughter. AWAIS (40s), bald and tattooed, wipes down the bar with practiced efficiency. Behind him, shelves groan under cheap whiskey and local craft beers.
AHMED (26), sharp cheekbones shadowed by low light, nurses a pint. He wears a tailored charcoal shirt, sleeves rolled to reveal intricate geometric tattoos. His eyes scan the room—calculating, detached.
Beside him, ZEESHAN (25), wiry and restless, taps his phone screen aggressively.
Zeeshan (ML Frd)
*Shouts Ahmed to watch the game in his mobile*
Ahmed (ML)
Doesn’t react. His gaze locks onto a booth in the corner.
SAHIBA (21) sits alone, nursing a cider. Her posture screams discomfort—shoulders hunched, fingers tracing condensation on her glass. She’s drowning in an oversized university hoodie, but the curve of her waist against the vinyl booth hints at what it hides. Her eyes dart toward the bar.
Sahiba(FL)
Meet Ahmed’s eye. She looks away instantly, cheeks flushing.
Zeeshan (ML Frd)
*following Ahmed’s stare*
Whoa. Fresh blood. You know her?
Zeeshan (ML Frd)
Then why’re you eye-fucking the introvert corner?
Ahmed (ML)
*Sets his pint down*
Ahmed (ML)
She’s been checking the exit for twenty minutes. Looks like she’d rather be swallowed by the floor.
Zeeshan (ML Frd)
So? Not your type.
Ahmed (ML)
Moves toward Sahiba’s booth.
Zeeshan (ML Frd)
Sips his pint.
Zeeshan (ML Frd)
Here we go.
Episode - 2
Ahmed (ML)
Slides into the booth opposite Sahiba.
Sahiba(FL)
She flinches, gripping her glass like a shield.
Sahiba(FL)
*Voice barely audible*
This seat’s taken.
Ahmed (ML)
By who? The ghost of better decisions?
Sahiba(FL)
A flicker of surprise breaks through her nervousness.
Sahiba(FL)
I… I’m waiting for someone.
Ahmed (ML)
*Leans forward slightly*
Ahmed (ML)
Liar. You’ve been alone since you walked in. Tripped over that steel-toe boot by the door. Nearly face-planted into the defraggers’ table.
Sahiba(FL)
*Eyes widen*. I didn't realized anyone noticed me.
Sahiba(FL)
You watched me?
Ahmed (ML)
I watch everyone. Occupational hazard.
Sahiba(FL)
What occupation?
Ahmed (ML)
*faint smirk*
Troubleshooter. Literally. Fix industrial printers by day.
Ahmed (ML)
Nods toward Zeeshan at the bar.
Ahmed (ML)
That’s my colleague. Thinks dating apps are a viable life strategy.
Against her will, Sahiba almost smiles. Ahmed sees it—the tiny crack in her armor.
Ahmed (ML)
Why’d you come here alone?
Sahiba(FL)
*Shrugs, stares at her drink*
Graduated today. Thought I’d… mark the occasion.
Ahmed (ML)
With lukewarm cider and existential dread? Bold choice.
Sahiba(FL)
*Looks up, defensive*
It’s safe.
Ahmed (ML)
Safe is boring.
Silence hangs. The bass thrums. Sahiba studies him—the sharp lines of his jaw, the ink peeking from his collar. He radiates confidence like a physical heat.
Sahiba(FL)
Why talk to me?
Ahmed (ML)
You looked like you needed rescuing.
Ahmed (ML)
From leaving without knowing what happens next.
He signals Awais. Two fingers raised.
Ahmed (ML)
Sahiba! What ’s your poison? Proper drink this time.
Ahmed (ML)
One drink. If you hate it, I vanish. Promise.
She hesitates. The rain drums harder against the windows. Awais slides two glasses of amber liquid onto the table. Whiskey. Neat.
Episode - 3
Ahmed (ML)
*pushes one glass toward her*
Ahmed (ML)
To not playing it safe.
Sahiba(FL)
*Stares at the whiskey*
Sahiba(FL)
Then, slowly picks it up.
Their glasses clink. The sound is startlingly loud in their little booth.
Sahiba(FL)
Takes a cautious sip & Coughs.
Sahiba(FL)
Tastes like… fire. And regret.
Ahmed (ML)
*First genuine smile*
Ahmed (ML)
That’s the point.
They drink. Sahiba’s shoulders relax a fraction. Ahmed watches her throat move as she swallows.
Ahmed (ML)
So, Sahiba. What did you graduate in?
Sahiba(FL)
*Sets glass down*
Sahiba(FL)
Bioinformatics. Algorithms for protein folding.
Ahmed (ML)
*Raises an eyebrow*
Ahmed (ML)
Sounds… aggressively smart.
Sahiba(FL)
Tugs self-consciously at her sleeve
Ahmed (ML)
Notices the frayed cuff.
Ahmed (ML)
Why bury yourself in that? Got something to hide?
Sahiba(FL)
Maybe I just like being comfortable.
Ahmed (ML)
Or invisible. Hoodie’s cheaper than armor.
She stiffens. Ahmed leans back, assessing.
Ahmed (ML)
Relax. I’m not judging. Just noticing. You’ve got that look—like you’re waiting for permission to exist.
Sahiba(FL)
You don’t know me.
Ahmed (ML)
No. But I know scared. Saw it every day fixing printers in oncology wards. Nurses hiding panic behind clipboards. You’ve got the same eyes.
Sahiba stares at him. The music shifts—something slower, darker. Her fingers tighten on the glass.
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