Interceptions and Innovations

The Alvi family arrived home late in the evening. Their joyful weekend left them feeling both fulfilled and exhausted. After sharing warm goodnights, everyone retreated to their rooms.

Fiza entered her room, leaning against the door for a moment, her gaze falling on the neatly arranged furniture. The stillness of the room reminded her how much she cherished her family's liveliness. She let out a deep sigh, feeling the weekend's laughter fade into quiet solitude.

Her phone buzzed, breaking the silence. The screen lit up with an unknown number, and Fiza hesitated before answering.

"Hello?" Her voice was cautious yet firm.

"Saleem Siddique is leaving for Switzerland tomorrow," the caller reported, their tone clipped and professional. "What are your instructions?"

A cold determination washed over her as a faint smirk formed on her lips. "Keep a close eye on him. Capture every moment—photos, videos, details. Send everything to me."

"Yes, ma'am."

The call ended, and Fiza lowered the phone, her eyes narrowing. She exhaled slowly, her resolve hardening like steel.

After completing her nightly prayers and skincare routine, she whispered, "For you, Bunny. I'll make them pay." Her voice cracked slightly, betraying the emotional storm within. She laid down, but sleep came only in fragments, haunted by her memories and plans.

---

Morning arrived with its usual rhythm. Fiza stepped into the dining room, her radiant smile masking the weight she carried.

"Good morning, Mother, Father," she greeted cheerfully, her voice warm as sunlight.

Shazia Alvi turned to her daughter, her maternal instincts picking up subtle hints of Fiza's inner turmoil. "Good morning, dear. You look radiant today."

Fiza laughed softly, brushing off the comment. She poured herself some tea and engaged her parents in lighthearted conversation. These small moments grounded her, reminding her why she fought so hard.

After breakfast, she left for NeuraTech, her sleek black bag slung over her shoulder.

---

The entrance to NeuraTech buzzed with employees, all rushing to start their day. As Fiza approached the glass doors, her eyes met Ibrahim Siddiqui's. His suit was crisp, his posture exuding authority, but there was a faint softness in his gaze as he noticed her.

"Good morning," Fiza greeted, her tone polite but distant.

"Good morning," Ibrahim replied, nodding as he stepped aside to let her pass.

Inside the elevator, Fiza caught her reflection in the polished doors. Her hijab framed her face, emphasizing her resolute expression. "Focus," she whispered to herself.

Fiza reached her floor and dove straight into work. By 4:00 PM, she had achieved the goal of improving her model's accuracy to 97%. Excited, she contacted Yusuf, Ibrahim's secretary, to report her progress. Yusuf relayed the update to Ibrahim, who instructed Fiza to meet him immediately.

---

When Fiza entered Ibrahim's office, she was calm yet confident, her attire reflecting professionalism—a crisp white shirt paired with flowing green pants and a matching hijab.

"I heard you've surpassed expectations," Ibrahim said, leaning back in his chair, his expression equal parts impressed and intrigued. "Walk me through it."

Fiza launched into her explanation, her voice steady as she outlined her methods.

"I expanded the dataset's diversity and introduced more real-world variables," she explained. "Additionally, I streamlined the anomaly detection model to ensure precision without compromising speed."

Ibrahim nodded, his dark eyes fixed on her. "Remarkable. Your approach saved us weeks of development time."

Fiza allowed herself a small, proud smile. "Thank you, sir."

Before the moment could settle, Ayan burst into the office unannounced.

"You need to knock, Ayan," Ibrahim said sternly, though his tone softened when Ayan grinned unapologetically.

"Sorry, big brother," Ayan quipped, taking a seat. "I'm here to discuss my part of the project."

Fiza hesitated, unsure whether to leave, but Ibrahim gestured for her to stay. "You might find it enlightening."

Ayan outlined his contribution to NeuraHorizon with confidence, his technical brilliance evident. As he wrapped up, Fiza spoke up, surprising both men.

"It's impressive, but I think there's room for optimization."

Ayan raised an eyebrow, a mix of curiosity and amusement crossing his face. "Oh? And what would you suggest?"

Fiza explained her idea, her tone calm but assertive. "If you implement modular training techniques, it would streamline performance and reduce overfitting risks."

Ayan exchanged a look with Ibrahim, both of them visibly impressed.

"She's right," Ibrahim admitted, a rare smile softening his features. "Let's go with her approach."

---

By 5:00 PM, Fiza left the office, feeling a sense of accomplishment. As she walked toward the subway, her phone buzzed again. This time, the unknown number sent her photos: Saleem Siddique in Switzerland, accompanied by an unknown woman.

Fiza smirked, her eyes gleaming with quiet satisfaction. "Got you," she murmured, tucking her phone away.

The subway ride home was a blur of thoughts and emotions. Her mission was in motion, and there was no turning back now.

---