Chapter 18, Beyond The Numbers.

Three days after his wedding, Hasan was back at work. Instead of his usual wide grin, he arrived with a pouty face and a gloomy demeanor. It was such an unusual sight that nearly everyone at the hospital grew concerned. His somber mood was uncomfortable to witness, casting a shadow over the usually bustling environment.

During their break, Hasan and Jude slipped into the storage room. Hasan was munching on infant cereal—he had forgotten his wallet that morning and only realized it when he was already on the bus. A kind old man had paid his fare, but by lunchtime, hunger gnawed at him. He retreated to the storage room, searching for something about to expire so he wouldn't get scolded if caught eating it.

Jude tagged along to keep him company, cracking a few jokes about how pathetic they were.

"Hasan, I get that you're hungry," Jude said, "but you've already finished two cans. They'll count them, and we'll get caught."

Hasan shrugged. "Oh, please. These expire tomorrow. I'm doing them a favor. It's better for me to eat them now than for them to serve it to some poor infant and make the kid sick. I know they change the labels and feed expired formula and cereal to save money."

Jude's eyes widened. "Hold on. Where did you hear that?"

"I didn't hear it," Hasan replied. "I saw it myself. I caught the pharmacist doing it."

Jude was stunned. He couldn't believe how low the hospital's standards had sunk.

They fell into an uneasy silence. Suddenly, a nurse walked into the storage room and caught Hasan opening another can. She raised an eyebrow, studying him carefully. Before she could speak, Hasan interrupted, "These are expired."

The puzzled look on her face faded. She grabbed what she needed and left without a word.

Hasan finished the last can and stood to leave. Before he reached the door, Jude grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Hasan looked confused. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Jude sighed. "Listen, I know you're disappointed you had to come back to work so soon and didn't get to enjoy more time with your wife. But seeing you like this is breaking my heart. It's making everyone uncomfortable. Please, try to calm down."

Hasan sighed deeply. He didn't want to be like this, but he couldn't muster the energy to smile and pretend everything was fine. He closed his eyes and tried to think of something cheerful—his beautiful bride, the way they danced at the wedding, the day they spent at the beach. But when he opened his eyes, he was back in the gloomy hospital. The contrast filled him with disgust, and he winced.

Jude saw the futility of his efforts and decided to leave Hasan alone.

---

Omar sat in his office, leaning back in his leather chair as Ghazi stood across from him, flipping through a stack of papers. The room was quiet except for the occasional rustle of pages and the faint hum of the air conditioner. Ghazi was delivering a detailed report on the costs of their latest advertising campaign, his tone professional but tinged with concern.

"The numbers are higher than we anticipated," Ghazi said, adjusting his glasses. "The campaign cost us nearly 20% more than the initial estimate. We need to reassess our strategy if we want to stay within budget next time."

Omar frowned, tapping his pen against the desk. "Twenty percent? That's a significant overrun. Did we at least see a proportional increase in engagement or sales?"

Ghazi hesitated. "Engagement is up, but not enough to justify the extra spending. I think we need to tighten our approach."

Before Omar could respond, the door swung open, and Alia walked in. Her presence immediately shifted the atmosphere. She was dressed sharply, her expression calm but purposeful. Ghazi glanced at her, then back at Omar, sensing the tension.

"Omar, I need to talk to you," Alia said, her voice steady but firm. "Alone. After work."

Omar raised an eyebrow, surprised by her directness. "Is everything alright?"

"It's important," she replied, avoiding further explanation. "Meet me at Café Luna at seven. Don't be late." Without waiting for a response, she turned and left, her heels clicking against the polished floor.

The room fell silent for a moment. Ghazi cleared his throat, breaking the awkward pause. "Should I… give you a moment?"

Omar shook his head, still processing Alia's abrupt entrance and exit. "No, it's fine. Let's finish this. What's the breakdown of the overspending?"

Ghazi nodded and resumed his report, but Omar's mind was only half-focused. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Alia wasn't one to make dramatic entrances or demand private meetings without reason. Whatever she wanted to discuss, it was clearly serious.

As the meeting wrapped up, Ghazi gathered his papers and headed for the door. Before leaving, he paused and looked back at Omar. "If you need anything, let me know. And… good luck with whatever that was about."

Omar managed a faint smile. "Thanks, Ghazi. I'll see you tomorrow."

Once alone, Omar leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. His thoughts raced. What could Alia want to talk about? Was it work-related, or something personal? He glanced at the clock—still a few hours until seven. He decided to use the time to clear his head and prepare for whatever awaited him at Café Luna.

---

Omar arrived at Café Luna just before seven, the warm glow of the overhead lights casting a cozy ambiance over the small, bustling space. He spotted Alia sitting at a corner table, her hands wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee. She looked up as he approached, her expression calm but unreadable.

"Thanks for coming," she said, gesturing for him to sit.

Omar slid into the chair across from her, nodding. "Of course. You said it was important. What's going on?"

Alia took a sip of her coffee, her eyes never leaving his. "I went over the company's finances yesterday, as part of my routine review. You know it's my job as the financial manager to keep an eye on these things."

Omar nodded again, though a faint unease crept into his chest. "Right. Did you find something?"

"I did," she said, her tone measured. "There's an error in the numbers from the marketing department. A significant one. I thought it would be best to check with you—the manager of the department—before reporting it to the CEO."

Omar's stomach tightened, but he kept his expression neutral. "An error? What kind of error?"

Alia pulled a folded sheet of paper from her bag and slid it across the table to him. "The expenses for your latest campaign don't match the projections. There's a discrepancy that doesn't add up. I thought you'd want to know before it escalates."

Omar scanned the document, his mind racing. He recognized the numbers immediately, but he didn't let his concern show. "I see. Thanks for bringing this to my attention. I'll go over it with my team and get back to you."

Alia studied him for a moment, her gaze sharp. "Omar, if you need anything—if there's something you're not telling me—you can come to me for help. I'm not here to make things harder for you."

He forced a smile, trying to lighten the mood. "I appreciate that, Alia. Really. But it's probably just a clerical error. My team will sort it out."

She leaned forward slightly, her voice lowering. "Omar, I know what you're doing. And if you need an ally in this, you know where to find me."

Omar's smile faltered, but he quickly recovered. "I don't know what you mean, but I'll keep that in mind."

Alia didn't push further. She leaned back, finishing her coffee in one last sip. "Alright. Just don't wait too long to figure it out." She stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "I'll see you at the office."

Before Omar could respond, she turned and walked out of the café, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He stared at the document in front of him, his mind swirling with questions. How much did Alia really know? And more importantly, how much longer could he keep this under control?

---

On his way home, Omar made an unexpected stop. He pulled into the parking lot of a small, unassuming gift shop nestled between a bakery and a laundromat. The bell above the door jingled softly as he stepped inside, greeted by the faint scent of incense and the warm glow of string lights draped across the ceiling.

Behind the counter stood Abo-Bilal, a man in his early fifties with greying hair and a kind, weathered face. He looked up from arranging a display of handmade candles and smiled when he saw Omar.

"Omar, my boy," Abo-Bilal said, his voice warm but tinged with concern. "It's late. What brings you here?"

Omar hesitated for a moment, glancing around to ensure they were alone. "I need to talk to you, Abo-Bilal. Something happened at work, and I'm not sure how to handle it."

Abo-Bilal's expression grew serious. He gestured for Omar to follow him to the back of the shop, where they could speak privately. Once they were seated in a small, cluttered office, Omar began to explain.

"Alia, the financial manager, found discrepancies in the marketing department's numbers. She confronted me about it today. I think she's suspicious of me. I don't know if I should confront her or just let it go."

Abo-Bilal listened intently, his fingers steepled in front of him. When Omar finished, he leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Omar, you're too important to our community to take unnecessary risks. Your identity must remain hidden. Confronting her directly could make things worse."

Omar frowned. "But what if she digs deeper? What if she finds out the truth?"

Abo-Bilal shook his head. "Don't worry about Alia. I'll ask Khalid to handle her. He'll make sure she understands that this isn't what she thinks. You focus on your work and stay out of trouble."

Omar nodded, though the tension in his shoulders didn't fully ease. "Thank you, Abo-Bilal. I just don't want this to blow up in our faces."

"It won't," Abo-Bilal assured him. "We've handled worse. Trust the process."

The next day, Khalid paid Alia a visit at the office. He found her in her usual spot, surrounded by spreadsheets and financial reports. She looked up, surprised to see him.

"Khalid," she said, setting down her pen. "What brings you here?"

Khalid smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I heard about the discrepancy you found in the marketing department's numbers. I wanted to let you know that it's been resolved. It was just a clerical error—nothing more."

Alia raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "A clerical error? The numbers were off by a significant amount. That doesn't sound like a simple mistake."

Khalid's tone grew firmer. "It's been handled, Alia. And I need to make something clear: Omar isn't who you think he is. You're barking up the wrong tree. Reckless accusations like this could cause serious problems for everyone."

Alia crossed her arms, her gaze steady. "I'm just doing my job, Khalid."

"And you have," Khalid said, his voice calm but firm. "But this matter is closed. I suggest you let it go and focus on your other responsibilities. We don't need any unnecessary drama."

Alia studied him for a long moment before finally nodding. "Fine. But if I find anything else—"

"You'll come to me first," Khalid interrupted. "Not the CEO, not Omar. Me. Understood?"

Alia hesitated, then nodded again. "Understood."

Khalid gave her a curt nod before turning to leave. As he walked away, Alia couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this story than she was being told. But for now, she had no choice but to let it go.

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