THE BILL
Genre: Romance / Drama / Dark Comedy
Runtime: Approximately 25 minutes
Location: Moscow, Russia
The city sprawls beneath us like a circuit board of light and shadow. Millions of stories happening simultaneously. We're about to witness one of them.
SUPER: "Moscow. Saturday Evening. The kind of night where everything can change."
Floor-to-ceiling windows. The city spreads out below like a promise. This is the kind of place where oligarchs bring their mistresses and tourists bring their life savings.
At a corner table, RASHID (23, Azerbaijani, wearing his best shirt - the one he ironed three times) sits across from LEYLA (22, Azerbaijani, effortlessly beautiful in a way that makes him forget how to breathe).
They're laughing. God, they're laughing.
(in Russian, animated)
No, I swear! My sister actually convinced our grandmother that Instagram was a type of telegram. She spent two weeks trying to send voice messages through photos.
(laughing, covering her mouth)
Stop! That's terrible!
The best part? She got angry when no one responded. "These young people have no manners!"
Leyla throws her head back, laughing. Rashid watches her like she's the only real thing in the room. Because to him, she is.
Rashid counting money. Bills spread across his desk. A jar labeled "БЕЛЫЙ КРОЛИК" (White Rabbit) - half full.
His roommate ELVIN (24, also Azerbaijani) watches from the doorway.
Brother, that place costs more than our rent.
(not looking up)
She's worth it.
What if she says no?
(finally looking up, smiling)
Then I'll have a very expensive memory of asking.
A WAITER (50s, seen everything, impressed by nothing) glides to their table.
(in perfect English)
Have we decided on dessert?
(looking at Rashid)
Should we share the chocolate soufflé?
(not even looking at the menu)
Yes. Absolutely. Whatever you want.
The waiter nods and disappears. Rashid hasn't looked at a single price all night. He's been too busy looking at her.
[DIRECTOR'S NOTE: This is important. We need to see him NOT looking at the menu. Not checking prices. Just... consumed by her. This is a man in love, and love makes you stupid.]
(leaning forward)
Okay, your turn. Tell me something you've never told anyone.
(thinking)
When I was seven, I stole my father's car keys and tried to drive to Baku from our village.
You didn't!
I made it three meters before hitting our neighbor's fence. My father didn't speak to me for a week. Not because I took the car...
(pause)
...but because I didn't ask him to teach me first.
Something shifts in Leyla's eyes. She reaches across the table, touches his hand.
(softly)
You miss him.
Every day. He wanted me to study here. Said Moscow would make me strong.
(smiling)
I think he just wanted me to learn to drive properly.
They laugh. The soufflé arrives. They share it, their spoons dancing.
Time passes. Not in the normal way. In that way it does when you're with someone who makes you forget time exists.
TWO HOURS LATER.
The restaurant is quieter now. Other diners have left. Rashid signals for the check.
The waiter brings a small leather folder. Places it on the table with the reverence of a priest delivering communion.
Rashid opens it.
And his world ends.
Pupils dilating. The moment of recognition. Of horror.
Numbers. Too many numbers. The total at the bottom: 47,000 rubles.
SUPER (in his mind): "I have 23,500 rubles. Exactly half. EXACTLY. FUCKING. HALF."
Rashid's face doesn't change. This is important. His face DOESN'T CHANGE. But something in his eyes...
(still smiling)
That was perfect. Thank you for bringing me here.
(voice steady, smile frozen)
I'm glad you enjoyed it.
[DIRECTOR'S NOTE: This is where the film shifts. We need to feel the panic while seeing the smile. Think of it like a swan - graceful on the surface, paddling like hell underneath.]
A war room. Red lights flashing. Alarms blaring. His brain scrambling for solutions.
Okay. Okay. Think. You could... run? No. She's wearing heels. You could... fake a heart attack? No, they'd call an ambulance. That's more expensive. You could... tell her you need to use the bathroom and just... keep walking? No. NO. You love her. You can't...
Rashid's hand moves under the table. Pulls out his phone. Starts typing with one hand while maintaining eye contact with Leyla.
You know what I love about Baku? The way the Caspian looks at sunset. Like the whole sea is on fire.
(typing frantically under table)
Yes. Fire. Exactly like fire.
Group chat: "BAKU BOYS IN MOSCOW"
RASHID: Brothers. Emergency. White Rabbit. Need 25k rubles. NOW.
ELVIN: What happened???
RASHID: I'll explain later. Can you help?
ELVIN: On my way. Where are you exactly?
RASHID: Smolenskaya. Top floor.
ELVIN: Traffic is hell. Saturday night. Maybe 2 hours?
RASHID: FUCK
TURAL: I can help. 10k. Coming from Mytishchi. Maybe 2.5 hours.
KAMRAN: I got 8k. In Khimki. Traffic is murder.
RASHID: Thank you brothers. Hurry.
Rashid puts his phone away. The bill sits there. Untouched. The waiter passes by, glances at it, continues walking.
(noticing something)
Are you okay? You seem...
(too quickly)
I'm perfect! Tell me more about your thesis. The thing about Azerbaijani poetry in the Soviet era.
Leyla studies him. She's smart. Too smart. But she lets it go. Starts talking about her research.
Rashid nods. Smiles. Responds. But his eyes... his eyes are the eyes of a man drowning.
TIME PASSAGE MONTAGE:
- The waiter passes by again. Looks at the bill. Looks at Rashid. Keeps walking.
- Rashid checks his phone under the table. Messages from his friends:
ELVIN: Still stuck on Garden Ring. Not moving.
TURAL: Accident on highway. Might be 3 hours.
KAMRAN: Brother, I'm trying. Moscow is hell tonight.
- Leyla talking, laughing, but now... now she's watching him more carefully.
- The bill. Still there. Mocking him.
- Other tables emptying. The restaurant getting quieter.
ONE HOUR PASSES.
The waiter approaches again. This time he stops at their table. Looks at the bill. Looks at Rashid.
(politely, but with an edge)
Will you be paying by card or cash, sir?
(voice cracking slightly)
Card. Just... give me one more moment.
The waiter nods. Walks away. But slower this time.
(direct, concerned)
Rashid. What's wrong?
Nothing! I'm just—
(cutting him off)
Don't. Don't lie to me. Is it your family? Did something happen?
No, everyone's fine.
Then what?
Silence. The kind that feels like falling. Leyla's eyes move from his face to the bill. Back to his face. And then... she understands.
(softly)
Do you need help with the bill?
And there it is. The question. The moment. Rashid wants to die. Actually wants the floor to open up and swallow him whole.
(barely audible)
I... yes. But it's okay. My friends are coming. We just need to wait maybe one more hour. I'm so sorry. I didn't check the prices. I was just... I was looking at you and I—
Leyla reaches for her purse. Rashid's hand shoots out, stops her.
(desperate)
No. Please. I invited you. This was supposed to be... I saved for three months. I wanted to give you a perfect night.
(looking directly at him)
It was perfect.
She pulls out her wallet. Rashid's hand is still on hers.
(continuing)
Listen to me. If you can't rely on me in the most difficult moments of your life, then I'm not the right person for you. So let's pay this bill together.
Rashid stares at her. This woman. This incredible woman. His eyes are wet.
(voice breaking)
I love you.
It just comes out. He didn't plan it. But there it is. Hanging in the air between them.
(smiling, tears in her eyes)
I know. I've known since you asked me here. Nobody saves for three months for someone they don't love.
(pause)
I love you too, you idiot.
They split the bill. 50/50. Like partners.
The waiter returns. Takes their cards. Processes the payment.
They walk out together. The Moscow night is cold. Rashid's phone buzzes. Messages from his friends:
ELVIN: Finally moving! 20 minutes away!
TURAL: Brother, I'm almost there!
KAMRAN: Did you survive??
Rashid types back:
RASHID: False alarm. All good. Thank you, brothers. I owe you.
ELVIN: What happened???
RASHID: I'll tell you later. But... I think I'm going to marry her.
Leyla takes his hand.
Want to walk? I'm not ready for this night to end.
(squeezing her hand)
Neither am I.
They walk into the Moscow night. The city lights reflecting off the snow. Two kids from Baku, far from home, but somehow... home.
My father once told me that you don't really know someone until you see them in a crisis. He was right. That night, I learned that Leyla wasn't just the love of my life. She was my best friend. My partner. The person who would split every bill, every burden, every moment of panic at 11 PM in an expensive restaurant.
Three years later, I proposed to her. At a cheap café near our university. She said yes before I even finished asking.
We still laugh about that night. The night I almost died of embarrassment. The night she saved me.
The night I knew.
"Sometimes the worst moments reveal the best people."
Production Notes
Visual Style: Think Tarantino's attention to small details mixed with Lynch's ability to make the mundane feel surreal. The panic should feel visceral. Use tight close-ups on Rashid's eyes, hands, the bill. Make the audience feel his anxiety.
Sound Design: As Rashid's panic builds, let the restaurant sounds become overwhelming. Cutlery on plates. Conversations. The waiter's footsteps. Then, when Leyla speaks her final line, everything goes quiet. Just her voice.
Music: Minimal. Maybe some ambient Moscow sounds. Save the music for the end - something warm, hopeful, in a minor key. Azerbaijani instruments mixed with Russian strings.
Language: Primarily Russian with occasional Azerbaijani phrases between Rashid and Leyla when they're being intimate or emotional. Subtitles throughout.
Casting: Need actors who can convey panic while smiling. The whole film hinges on Rashid's ability to look fine while dying inside.