I'm afraid I've developed the premise.
So, Leia is enjoying her sand-baths and dianoga smoothies or what have you (let's say it was on Canto Bight, not Ord Mantell), and decides to holo-comm Han to see how he's getting on, expecting to see their senatorial quarters on Chandrila.
Instead, we see the cockpit of the Millennium Flacon with a harried-looking unshaven Han surrounded by smoke and a cacophony of alarms, with Chewie and 3PO tangled in armfuls of wiring and porgs flapping all over the place.
"Han? What's going on? Where's Ben?".
"Hi honey, uh, had a slight diaper malfunction. But, uh, everything's perfectly all right now. We're fine. We're all fine here now, thank you. How are you?".
Then we hear the unmistakable sound of laser blasts on the Falcon's shields and Qi-Ra's voice from off-holo: "Isn't anyone on this rust-bucket going to shoot back?".
"Han, who's that with you? Where're Ben and Grogu? Should I come home?"
"Negative, negative, uh, big leak, very odourous...", and then nothing but blue static.
"I've got a bad feeling about this", sighs Leia, leaning back in her sand-bath. Why can't she trust that scruffy-looking nerf-herder with anything.
Then suddenly there's a loud BOOM!, and we see the roof of the spa collapse in.
Leia has somehow forgotten that it's not just her and Luke's birthday, it's also the 25th anniversary of the foundation of the Empire - and Imperial Remnant loyalists have staged a series of attacks across the galaxy to mark the date.
As Leia struggles to extricate herself from the rubble, out of the dust we see a tall, handsome, well-groomed Jedi appear, silhouetted by light, and with wave of his hand the debris floats aside. "Your highness, I'm Ezra Bridger, I'm here to rescue you".
(See it's also Ezra's birthday and he's spending it at the same spa - and adult Ezra is everything Han's not, competent, respectful, Force-sensitive...). Now we have parallel romantic-tension storylines!
Meanwhile Ezra and Grogu are systematically dismantling Hondo's pirate empire with their innocent hi-jinks, and we hear him wail "This venture is no longer profitable!
Pay me and Alan Dean Foster, Kathleen, and it's all yours.