Opportunities and Risks
Fiza woke up before dawn, the quiet of the early morning enveloping her room. She performed wudu and offered her Fajr prayers, her hands raised in supplication as she sought strength for the day ahead. After her prayers, she recited verses from the Quran, finding solace in the words that grounded her amidst the chaos of her mission.
Stepping out into the garden, she inhaled the crisp morning air. The dew-covered grass sparkled under the faint glow of dawn, and the gentle rustle of leaves created a serene melody. Her walks were her moments of peace—a time to reflect and prepare for the day.
After returning to her room, she dressed in a pair of white baggy pants paired with a navy-blue shirt and a matching navy-blue hijab. Her modest yet stylish attire exuded confidence, a reflection of her composed demeanor.
At breakfast, the Alvi household was lively as ever. Her mother, Shazia, filled the table with bread, omelets, and fresh fruit while her father, Hafeez, enjoyed a cup of tea. Aqsa playfully complained about her coffee not being strong enough.
"Fiza, why are you so quiet today?" Aqsa teased. "Big day at work?"
Fiza smiled faintly and shook her head. "Nothing special. Just the usual."
Her mother handed her a plate. "Don't forget to take care of yourself, dear. You've been working so hard."
"I will, Mama," Fiza assured her.
The table erupted in lighthearted banter as Aqsa cracked a joke about their father's obsession with fixing things around the house. The warmth of their family moments was a reminder of what Fiza was fighting for.
Aqsa's gaze lingered on Fiza for a moment longer than necessary, her playful expression softening into quiet understanding. She knew the truth—the real reason behind Fiza's composed facade and her drive to work at NeuraTech. But Aqsa kept her silence, choosing to shield their parents from the weight of that knowledge, just as Fiza intended.
For now, the warmth of their family moments would remain untouched by the shadows lurking behind Fiza's determined eyes.
Fiza took the subway, as she did every day, blending seamlessly into the crowd. She arrived at NeuraTech to find an unusual buzz of activity. The employees seemed more rushed than usual, their faces filled with purpose and urgency.
She brushed it off as none of her concern, focusing instead on reaching her desk. Taking the lift, she stepped into her workspace, where the familiar hum of computers and soft chatter greeted her.
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In his sleek office, Ibrahim sat across from a delegation from a prominent firm. They were discussing a high-profile project—a groundbreaking initiative that could cement NeuraTech's position at the forefront of technological innovation.
The representatives emphasized the project's importance, and Ibrahim's sharp mind quickly assessed the stakes. Once the meeting concluded, he leaned back in his chair, his mind already strategizing.
He called for a meeting with his best team. Ayan, who had been shadowing him, would join as well. As he waited for the team to assemble in the conference room, an idea struck him—a risk, but one he was willing to take.
The name *Fiza Alvi* crossed his mind. Her resume had impressed him when she was hired, and though she had yet to stand out, this might be the opportunity to test her potential.
Turning to his secretary, who was seated beside him at the conference table, Ibrahim issued his instruction. "Call Fiza Alvi and ask her to report to the conference room immediately."
The secretary nodded, picking up the phone to make the call.
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At her desk, Fiza's phone buzzed. She picked it up hesitantly.
"Hello, this is Fiza Alvi."
"This is Mr. Ibrahim Siddiqui's office," the voice on the other end said. "You're requested to report to the conference room immediately."
Her heart skipped a beat, and anxiety coursed through her. *Why would the CEO want to see me?* she wondered, her mind racing.
Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself. Grabbing her notebook and pen, she made her way toward the conference room, each step heavy with anticipation.
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