In the afternoon at the Executive Conference Room
The room was quiet, heavy with attention.
Nuha stood beside the screen, tablet in hand.
"Miss Nuha," one of the board members said, "please confirm the revenue projection for Q3."
"Yes, sir." She glanced at her tablet. "A projected increase of twelve percent."
A pause.
Rayyan's pen stopped moving.
Another executive leaned forward. "Twelve?"
"Yes," Nuha replied, confident. "Based on the revised forecast."
The CFO spoke slowly. "Our approved figure is eight percent."
Nuha's chest tightened.
She checked again. Her screen displayed the wrong file.
"You're referencing the preliminary projection," the CFO continued. "That version was rejected."
The room went still.
Nuha swallowed. "You're correct. That is my error."
Rayyan turned his head slightly toward her, expression unreadable.
She straightened. "The approved projection is eight percent. I mistakenly opened the preliminary file."
One of the investors folded his hands. "Why wasn't this caught earlier?"
Nuha met his gaze. "Because I failed to cross-verify before the meeting. I apologise."
Silence.
Rayyan spoke. "Miss Nuha will circulate the corrected figures immediately."
He looked at her. "Proceed."
"Yes, sir."
She tapped quickly, projecting the correct slide.
"Eight percent," she said clearly. "With risk adjustment already accounted for."
The CFO nodded. "That aligns with our records."
The investor leaned back. "Continue."
The meeting moved on.
After the Meeting, outside the Conference Room
The doors closed.
Rayyan stopped walking.
"Miss Nuha."
"Yes, sir?"
"That error was visible."
"Yes."
"Why did it happen?"
"I rushed the final check."
He nodded once. "Rushing at this level is costly."
"I understand."
"Next time?"
"There won't be a next time."
He looked at her briefly. "Ensure that."
"Yes, sir."
They walked off in opposite directions.
Later, at the Office Floor
A colleague whispered, "Did you hear what happened in the board meeting?"
Another replied, "She owned it. Didn't flinch."
Nuha sat at her desk, correcting files, expression composed.
Later in the evening
The office was quiet now, almost empty. Only the hum of fluorescent lights and the faint whir of the air conditioner filled the space. Nuha sat alone, staring at her screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard.
How did I miss that? she thought. Eight percent… it wasn't even close to what I presented. How could I not check?
She rubbed her temples. Her mind replayed the faces in the conference room the CFO's raised eyebrow, the investors' impatient stare, Rayyan's quiet, assessing gaze. No scolding, no drama. Just professional disappointment. And it cut deeper than any loud criticism ever could.
Her phone buzzed. She ignored it. Texts, calls.. everything could wait. She couldn't deal with social distractions.
She opened the projection slides again, scrolling meticulously. This time, every number has to match. Every figure double-checked.
Hours passed. The outside world faded. The office lights dimmed automatically, leaving her in the glow of her monitor. She leaned back, closed her eyes for a brief second.
I can't afford mistakes like this. Not here. Not ever.
Her coffee was cold, untouched. Her stomach growled. She ignored it. She couldn't eat until the corrected reports were perfect.
I need to rebuild their trust. I need to prove I'm reliable. I won't let one mistake define me.
She retyped, recalculated, cross-referenced every page. Figures, charts, notes, projections..each file went through triple verification.
The clock ticked past 7:30 PM. Still no breaks. Still no end.
Finally, she leaned back again, letting out a long breath. Her eyes were tired, but she felt a small spark of satisfaction.
It's right. Every number is right. No more mistakes. Not this time.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard again. She drafted an email to the compliance team:
"Attached are the corrected Q3 projections. Verified and cross-checked. Please confirm receipt. – Miss Nuha Salam"
She sent it, then sat back. For the first time tonight, she allowed herself a small, quiet nod.
One mistake doesn't define me. I won't let it.
And with that thought, she shut her laptop. The office was silent, but for Nuha, the world felt a little more under control her own professional integrity restored, for now.
Rayyan's footsteps echoed softly as he passed by the office floor. The lights were dimmed, most desks empty, except for one.
Nuha's screen glowed brightly in the quiet, her fingers moving steadily over the keyboard. A stack of files lay beside her, some open, some annotated. A cold cup of coffee sat untouched, its aroma faint in the still air.
He stopped.
"Miss Nuha."
She jumped slightly. "Sir! I didn't hear you come in."
He approached slowly, his usual composed expression in place, but something in his eyes had softened.
"You're still here," he said quietly.
"I… I needed to verify the corrected projections," she said, voice steady but low. "I don't want any mistakes."
Rayyan glanced at the cold coffee. Then at her posture—slightly slumped, shoulders tense, eyes tired.
"Miss Nuha… you need a break."
She shook her head, fingers still moving. "Just a few more minutes. I'll finish this, sir."
He stepped closer, placing a hand lightly on the stack of files, enough to make her pause.
"No. You need to step away. Now."
"I—"
He didn't wait for her to argue. He pulled out her chair slightly and gestured for her to sit back. Then he walked over to the coffee machine to make her a new one
"Your coffee," he said, dropping it in front if her .
" This one has gone cold because you haven't touched it." he said picking that other one up
Nuha hesitated. "I'll drink it later."
"No," he said firmly, though his tone wasn't harsh. "Now. Sit. Drink. You can finish after."
She opened her mouth to protest, then paused, meeting his eyes. There was no criticism, only… concern. Controlled, minimal, but real.
Finally, she exhaled and sat back, letting him slide the coffee closer. The warmth fogged her fingers slightly.
"You're pushing yourself too hard," he said softly, almost as if speaking to himself. "One mistake doesn't mean you have to exhaust yourself."
She lowered her gaze. "I just… I can't let it happen again."
"I know," he said quietly. "But neither perfection nor responsibility should come at the cost of your own strength."
She nodded, letting him stay silent beside her for a moment, the office quiet except for the hum of machines.
For once, Rayyan didn't step back into professional distance. He lingered, eyes assessing, yet restrained watching as she sipped the coffee, her tension easing slightly.
"You shouldn't be working this late." he added
"I… I need to finish this," she said quietly, trying to keep her composure. "I can't leave until the corrected reports are verified."
. "I can drive you home." he said
Nuha shook her head, smiling faintly. "No, thank you. Someone else is coming to pick me up."
He straightened in his posture, concern sharpening his tone slightly, breaking his usual professional reserve. "No. You're leaving now. Go home early. Rest. You've been here long enough."
"I—" she started, but he cut her off with a subtle, firm shake of his head.
"You need to stop pushing yourself like this. Go."
She hesitated, then nodded, gathering her things. Her shoulders were stiff, her movements slow with exhaustion.
Rayyan watched her as she opened the door. His mind jumped immediately to what he assumed: Danish. He had seen Danish dropping her off countless times.
"Good," he murmured quietly to himself. "Safe to go, then."
He returned to his desk, already beginning to sort through the next day's schedule. Professional. Composed. But his thoughts lingered longer than usual on Nuha's fatigue, a small flicker of concern breaking through the usual controlled detachment.
What he didn't realize was that outside, it wasn't Danish waiting at all. It was Nuha's best friend, Nawal quietly leaning against the car, smiling as Nuha approached.