Breaking the Mold

Fiza took a deep breath as she stood outside the conference room door. The call from Ibrahim's secretary had come out of nowhere, and now she was walking into unfamiliar territory—a high-level meeting with the CEO and senior team members of NeuraTech. She smoothed her navy-blue hijab, her thoughts a swirl of nervous energy, and pushed the door open.

The room fell silent as she entered.

All eyes landed on her, scrutinizing her every move. Fiza could feel the weight of their stares. She wasn't surprised. She was only two days into her job and had kept interactions strictly professional. Conversations beyond work held no appeal to her, and her quiet demeanor likely made her an enigma to the others.

Her gaze briefly met Ibrahim Siddiqui's. He was seated at the head of the sleek glass table, his expression as unreadable as ever. He gestured for her to take a seat without a word.

As she moved toward the chair beside Ayan, she felt the disapproval radiating from Alina, a senior team member who had been with Ibrahim since NeuraTech's inception. Alina's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but it was enough for Fiza to sense her displeasure.

Ayan, seated beside her, offered a warm smile. "You'll do fine," he whispered as she sat down.

Fiza nodded slightly in acknowledgment, her face a mask of calm, though her heart pounded in her chest.

Ibrahim began the meeting by addressing the team about the high-profile project that had brought them together. The project, codenamed *NeuraHorizon*, was ambitious—a groundbreaking artificial intelligence initiative aimed at creating an advanced neural network capable of revolutionizing medical diagnostics. The goal was to develop a system that could analyze patient data at unprecedented speeds, ensuring early detection of diseases and personalized treatment plans.

"This project is critical," Ibrahim said, his tone firm and commanding. "Our reputation as innovators will hinge on its success. Each of you has been assigned a specific role based on your expertise."

He began assigning tasks, his sharp gaze moving across the table. Alina was given responsibility for managing the technical infrastructure, something she had done successfully in past projects. The other senior members received their assignments with nods of approval, their roles reflecting their usual areas of competence.

Then, to everyone's surprise, Ibrahim turned his attention to Fiza.

"Fiza Alvi," he said, his voice calm but authoritative, "you'll be leading the data analytics and machine-learning module for *NeuraHorizon*. This will involve developing predictive algorithms and coordinating with our partners in the healthcare sector. It's a demanding role, but based on your background, I believe you're the right fit."

The room was momentarily stunned into silence.

Fiza felt the weight of their disbelief pressing down on her. She was the newest and lowest-ranking employee in the room, and yet she had just been entrusted with one of the most critical aspects of the project.

Alina couldn't hide her irritation. She scoffed softly, though she refrained from voicing her discontent. Questioning Ibrahim's decisions wasn't something she—or anyone—could afford to do.

Meanwhile, the rest of the team remained neutral. They exchanged glances, but none dared to challenge Ibrahim's judgment.

Fiza, on the other hand, maintained her composure. "Thank you for the opportunity," she said simply, her voice steady.

Ayan gave her a reassuring glance, silently encouraging her.

As the meeting concluded, Ibrahim rose from his seat, signaling the end of the discussion. "I expect results," he said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "Let's make this happen."

Fiza quietly gathered her notes, aware of the lingering tension in the room. As the team filed out, Alina's cold glare brushed past her, but Fiza didn't react. She had a job to do, and she wasn't going to let anyone's judgment distract her.

Ibrahim watched the team leave one by one, his expression unreadable. He had noticed their reactions—the disapproval from Alina, the uncertainty among the others—but none of it mattered to him. Fiza's resume had impressed him, and he trusted his instincts.

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