Her scholarship, His heart

season 1 episode 1:the girl with no name The bell rang and 300 students rushed out of Royal Crest Academy like the building was on fire. Everyone except her. Amina adjusted her plain white shirt and sat still. The AC was too cold, but she couldn’t afford to shiver and draw attention. Her second-hand shoes were clean, polished with Vaseline last night, but anyone with eyes could tell they weren’t new. Her books had no fancy covers. Just brown paper and her neat handwriting. No iPad. No new bag. Just her brain. That was all she had. “Miss Amina? Scholarship student?” The class teacher, Mrs. Bello, looked up from the register and frowned like she already had a headache. “Sit at the back.” Of course. The back. Where people like her belonged. Amina picked up her books and moved. The wooden chair at the last row wobbled. She didn’t complain. She was used to it. Back in her public school in Mushin, back at home where NEPA took light every 2 hours, back in life. You don’t complain when you’re grateful to be in the room at all. Royal Crest Academy wasn’t for girls like her. It was for the children of CEOs, senators, and i********: influencers. Girls who came in Range Rovers. Boys who wore wristwatches worth more than her mother’s yearly rent. But she got a full scholarship. 100% because of JAMB. Highest score in Lagos State. Her mom cried that day. “My daughter. My pride.” Amina touched the old pendant on her neck. Her mom’s. The only thing of value they owned. She opened her Physics textbook. If she stayed top of the class, they couldn’t take the scholarship away. The door slammed open. 20 minutes late. He walked in like he owned the air in the room. White shirt unbuttoned at the top two buttons. Black trousers tailored. Gold watch that caught the light. Airpods in. Hair cut fresh. Damian Cole. Son of Chief Cole. The man who built this school. The man whose face was on billboards across Lagos. The man whose son failed 3 subjects last term and still got promoted. Girls turned. Phones came out. Whispers started. “Is that Damian?” “He’s so fine omo.” “His dad just bought him a G-Wagon.” Damian didn’t look at any of them. He didn’t look at Mrs. Bello who was stuttering “Good morning, Master Damian.” He looked straight at the back of the class. At her. At the girl with no name tag and the highest JAMB score in the state. And he smiled. Not a kind smile. A curious one. Like he’d just found something interesting in a place he didn’t expect. “Teacher,” Damian said, his voice lazy but loud enough for everyone to hear. He dropped his designer bag on the empty desk in front of her. “I want to sit here.” The whole class gasped. Because nobody sat with the scholarship girl. The poor girl. The invisible girl. Especially not him. Mrs. Bello blinked. “But Master Damian, that seat is for—” “I said here,” he cut her off. He pulled out the chair and sat. The desk was small. His arm brushed hers. Amina kept her eyes on her book. Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure he could hear it. But her voice? Her voice was steady. That was the one thing she had control over. “There’s no space,” she said quietly, not looking up. Damian leaned back and studied her. Really studied her. The plain shirt. The neat braids. The way her fingers gripped the pen like it was the only thing keeping her afloat. “Then we’ll share,” he whispered. Only she could hear it. His cologne smelled like money and something expensive she couldn’t name. “Topper.” She flinched. Nobody had called her that before. Not like that. The class was silent. Even the girls in front were pretending to write but listening. Mrs. Bello cleared her throat. “Ahem. Since Master Damian has decided… let’s begin. Today we’re doing vectors.” For the next 40 minutes, Amina tried to focus. She really did. But she could feel him. He wasn’t writing. He wasn’t on his phone. He was watching her. Every time she solved a problem on the board in her head, his eyes moved. When she bit her lip in concentration, his mouth twitched. Finally, the bell rang. Students packed up fast. The rich girls walked past her desk, whispering and giggling. “Who does she think she is?” “Damian will get bored in 2 days.” Amina didn’t answer. She just packed her books neatly. “Hey.” Damian was still there. Everyone else had left. Amina looked up. “Yes?” “What’s your name?” She hesitated. “Amina.” “Amina,” he repeated, like he was tasting it. “Amina with the 352 JAMB score.” Her eyes widened. “How did you—” “My dad’s PA sent me your file,” he said casually. “Said you’re the reason they gave out a scholarship this year. Said if they didn’t, the government would ask questions.” Amina’s chest tightened. So that’s what she was to them. A PR stunt. “I don’t need your pity,” she said, standing up. “I earned my place.” Damian stood too. He was tall. Too tall. “I know you did. That’s why I’m interested.” “Interested in what?” “In seeing how long someone like you can survive in a place like this.” He picked up his bag. “See you tomorrow, Amina.” He walked out. And Amina stood there, alone in the empty classroom, with her heart beating and her future feeling more dangerous than ever. Because the richest boy in school just decided she was worth noticing. And in Royal Crest Academy, being noticed by a Cole could either make you… Or destroy you. **To be continued...**