The next morning, as the family sat around the breakfast table, Ali looked more distracted than usual.
He had slept very little.
The questions from the previous night had followed him into the morning, refusing to settle.
Still, he tried not to let it show.
“When are we heading out for groceries?” he asked his mother.
Samina Siddiqui glanced at him.
“In an hour.”
“Okay, Mama.”
Ali lowered his eyes to his breakfast, absent-mindedly moving his spoon through his tea.
A moment later, he looked up.
“Mama, I was thinking about something.”
Mrs. Samina smiled teasingly.
“About your marriage?”
Ali immediately shook his head.
“No. Not at all.”
Amanah glanced at him, amused.
Ali managed a faint smile.
“I was thinking about giving Amanah a break. Her life seems to revolve around her school and then the kitchen.”
He looked towards his sister.
“So, Amanah... let's go out for coffee in the evening.”
Amanah rolled her almond-shaped eyes.
“With so many notebooks to check and lesson plans to prepare? No, Ali. Thanks, but I can't go out.”
Samina intervened gently.
“Amanah, it is very considerate of your brother. And probably he wants to spend some time outside too.”
She looked at Ali.
“My son is no less cooped up than you are.”
Then she turned back to Amanah.
“So there won't be any harm if you could spend just an hour outside.”
Amanah sighed.
“I was thinking you would be taking me to the condolence gathering.”
Mrs. Samina replied,
“I have no intention of staying there for long.”
She paused.
“We'll leave for groceries first. Ali will drop me at your uncle's in-laws' place later. You two can return home.”
“Then I'll come back on my own.”
Ali looked up immediately.
“No, Mama. You're not coming back on your own.”
His tone was more serious now.
“When you're done with the condolence gathering, call me. I'll come to pick you up.”
Samina looked concerned.
“You'll be driving the whole day, it seems.”
Ali shrugged.
“That's what I do on weekends, don't I?”
Amanah corrected him.
“Not all weekends. That's an exaggeration.”
Ali gave her a faintly offended look.
“You're always so ungrateful to your brother.”
For a moment, the familiar banter returned.
Then Ali looked at his mother.
“Mama, your concern about me turning into a driver... there's a way to solve that.”
“And what is that?” Samina asked.
“Accept what Papa has been suggesting for years.”
Samina raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“Chauffeur-driven luxury cars.”
Ali gave her a small smile.
“That way, your only son would be spared all this driving.”
Samina eyed him.
“You know very well I don't like all that fake show of being a pampered woman.”
Ali sighed.
“Papa... I tried this time too.”
Samina shook her head.
“Your Papa isn't here to listen to you, boy.”
She pointed towards his plate.
“Now finish your breakfast.”
After breakfast, Amanah headed towards the kitchen, carrying the plates and cups.
Samina went out into the garden.
Ali followed Amanah into the kitchen.
“Amanah... listen to me,” he said in a hushed voice.
Amanah looked up, turning off the tap.
“Yes? Something serious?”
“I want to take you out because I need to discuss something very important with you.”
“About?” Amanah asked.
Ali sighed.
“The same man.”
“Mr. Haider?” Amanah asked knowingly. “I'm sure it must be him.”
“But why take me out to discuss him?” she continued. “We can talk about it here.”
Ali shook his head.
“Not here. And not alone.”
He lowered his voice.
“He needs to hear it too.”
“He?” Amanah looked bewildered. “Who?”
“Omer.”
Amanah folded her arms.
“Why drag him into this?”
Ali gave her a faint smile.
“He's already involved in this with me. Don't forget, he works for that man too—just like your brother.”
“I see.”
Amanah narrowed her eyes.
“So you've finally managed to dig out something about your boss that might have the scale of a detonator.”
Ali remained silent.
“That explains why you're taking me out,” she continued. “And perhaps Omer too. You're finally going to tell us what you've managed to unravel?”
Ali scratched his forehead slightly.
“Something like that.”
“But...” Amanah hesitated.
“Wouldn't he feel awkward? I mean... with me around?”
Ali's dimple widened.
“You're not that scary. He'll survive.”
Amanah stared at him.
“Ali...”
She picked up another cup.
“Before I decide to refuse this whole setup—get lost.”
Ali and Amanah were moving through the spacious superstore, pushing the trolleys and following their mother's instructions as she pointed out one item after another.
The store was busy that morning.
Shopping carts rolled across the polished floor, children moved impatiently beside their parents, and the low hum of conversations blended with the occasional announcement from the overhead speakers. Long aisles stretched in every direction, brightly lit beneath rows of white ceiling lights.
Samina moved ahead of them, occasionally stopping to examine a packet, compare prices, or point towards something she wanted them to pick up.
Amanah followed with a faint frown on her face, clearly more interested in getting the shopping over with than in being there.
Ali, meanwhile, had quietly added a few things of his own to the trolley.
“Get something for yourself,” Samina said, nudging Amanah gently as she passed another aisle.
“No, Mama. I have everything I need.”
Ali glanced sideways at his sister.
“Running tight on budget? As usual?”
Amanah gave him a brief look but didn't answer.
Ali smiled.
“I can give you money.”
“Thank you, Mr. Richie Rich,” Amanah replied dryly. “I'm content with whatever I have, and I'm grateful to Him.”
Ali gave an amused shake of his head and pushed the trolley forward as they moved towards the checkout area.
“And that is exactly what Papa dislikes.”
Amanah looked at him.
Ali continued, lowering his voice slightly as they passed a group of shoppers.
“He hates the fact that his family doesn't live up to the standard he has set for them. He expects them to spend freely, show their status, live in an elite neighbourhood, and maintain a lifestyle he considers appropriate for the family.”
He paused, steering the trolley around another shopper.
“Even I've started realizing that perhaps we've been too hard on ourselves.Being content and grateful is one thing. But deliberately depriving ourselves of luxuries we can very easily afford...”
Ali let the sentence trail off.
“I'm not sure that feels right anymore.”
Amanah nodded slowly.
“You can say that because you have a good income .”
Her fingers rested lightly on the handle of the trolley.
“I can't say the same for myself.”
She remained quiet for a moment before continuing.
“Mama has always wanted me to be the one who adjusts. To spend less, ask for less, expect less.”
There was no bitterness in her voice, but a faint weariness showed on her face.
“As if she had always imagined me living a life where wanting more was simply not an option.”
She gave a small sigh.
“And look at me.”
A faint, humourless smile touched her lips.
“I'm practically living that life already.”
Before Ali could respond, Samina's voice came from just behind them.
“That is how daughters are raised,” she said matter-of-factly. “Who knows what destiny has in store for them?”
Amanah's eyes flickered towards her.
Destiny?
For a moment, she looked as though she wanted to say something.
But she remained silent.
Samina adjusted the items in her trolley and continued as they approached the checkout lanes.
“Besides, who stopped you from earning a fortune? You've been silly yourself, choosing a profession that barely covers your basic needs.”
Amanah lowered her gaze.
“You could have gone into the corporate sector like your brother.”
She said it almost as though the matter were obvious.
Then she added,
“And you're not even willing to marry.”
Amanah's expression tightened slightly.
Samina continued before she could respond.
“There have been many decent proposals.”
She glanced at her daughter.
“There are still a few. Your father was telling me about the sons and brothers of his associates in the Gulf.”
Amanah said nothing.
Around them, the checkout area had grown busier. The beeping of scanners, the movement of carts and the chatter of shoppers filled the space.
Samina sighed.
“But you don't give any of them a thought.”
Amanah looked away, her lips pressed into a thin line.
As usual, Ali came to the rescue.
“Mama...”
He glanced around at the people standing nearby and lowered his voice.
“This is a public place.”
He gave his mother a pleading look.
“Spare her for now.”
Samina looked at him for a moment.
Then, despite herself, the corner of her mouth lifted.
“Fine.”
Ali smiled faintly and pushed the trolley forward.
“Thank you.”
After Ali dropped their mother at his uncle's in-laws' house, he drove Amanah back home with the groceries.
The Saturday-morning traffic of the port city had already begun to thicken. Cars, buses and motorcycles moved in uneven streams around them, while the occasional impatient horn cut through the hum of the road.
Ali drove his black Honda Civic with one hand resting lightly on the steering wheel, shifting gears whenever the traffic demanded it.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
The grocery bags shifted softly in the back whenever the car slowed or turned.
Ali glanced at his sister.
“Thank God I'm a man.”
A faint smile touched his lips.
“The pressure on me isn't as high as it is on you when it comes to this.”
Amanah sighed and turned towards the window.
“Previously, it was only relatives and colleagues making comments. Now even Mama is talking as if...”
She left the sentence unfinished.
Ali glanced at her again but didn't press her.
Amanah remained quiet for a few moments, watching the traffic slide past the window.
“Ali...” she finally said.
Her voice was quieter now.
“I'm just terrified.”
Ali's hand tightened slightly around the steering wheel.
“What if Mama and Papa actually force me into getting married in a rush?”
He kept his eyes on the road for a moment before replying.
“Well... you're thirty two , Amanah.”
She turned towards him.
Ali gave her a sideways glance.
“If they're considering it this seriously this time, perhaps their determination might finally make you think about this side of your life too.”
A faint, teasing smile appeared.
“The side you've been avoiding so cleverly.”
Amanah drew a slow breath.
“I don't know.”
She looked down at her hands.
“Perhaps my mind just hasn't been wired to think about... that.”
“Marriage?”
She nodded.
Ali smiled faintly.
“Then start thinking about it now.”
Amanah immediately turned towards him.
“Look who's speaking.”
Ali raised an eyebrow.
“The person who also moves miles away from this topic whenever it comes anywhere near him.”
He shrugged lightly, changing gears as the traffic began moving again.
“That's different.”
Amanah gave him a skeptical look.
“How?”
Ali's mouth curved into a small smile.
“I haven't figured that out yet.”
Amanah shook her head and turned back towards the window.
For a while, she remained silent, watching the road through the glass.
Then she spoke again.
“I've also been thinking... what if I change my profession?”
Ali glanced at her briefly.
“I mean, I can't exactly join pharmaceutical firms now. My degree probably doesn't carry much value anymore. It must be outdated by now.”
She paused, choosing her words.
“Those firms want fresh graduates or experienced professionals. Not someone whose degree is from so many years ago and who has spent most of that time teaching.”
Ali listened without interrupting.
“So perhaps I could use what I've developed over the years instead.”
She looked at him.
“My computer skills. The other soft skills I've picked up. And...”
She hesitated.
“My investigative instincts.”
Ali's eyes flickered towards her, his expression changing slightly.
Amanah continued.
“I mean, a teacher becomes an exceptional observer of people, whether we realize it or not.”
She began counting on her fingers.
“We read students' minds—or at least we try to. We notice when something is wrong. We catch them carrying things they're not supposed to have. We write reports. We document incidents. We counsel them.”
She lifted another finger.
“We deal with parents and administrators. We even have to straighten students out when necessary.”
A faint smile crossed her face.
“Besides teaching them.”
Ali smiled.
She looked ahead again.
“So perhaps I could fit into a job that requires investigation and probing.”
She paused.
“So now you're aspiring to be a detective?” Ali asked.
“Sort of.”
Amanah smiled faintly.
“Perhaps Mama will be satisfied if I'm earning much more than I am now. And maybe I'd even have gratuity and a pension when I retire as a detective.”
“It sounds good,” Ali said.
He slowed slightly as a bus edged into their lane.
Then, after a moment, he added,
“And you know, Amanah, we probably inherited these investigative instincts from our Grandpas.”
He glanced at her with a smile.
“After all, both of them were poilcemen.”
Amanah laughed back.
“Exactly.”
For a few moments, they simply listened to the muted sound of the engine and the traffic outside.
Then Ali's expression grew thoughtful.
“Speaking of that... what do you say about this?”
Amanah looked at him.
Ali kept his eyes on the road.
“Suppose a man mentions the name of a company where he supposedly worked during the early part of his career.”
He paused as he changed gears.
“But that company didn't exist at all.”
Amanah thought for a moment.
“Perhaps he wanted to hide something,” she said slowly.
“Maybe a fraud. A crime.”
She turned slightly towards Ali.
“Or perhaps he simply wanted to mislead people—to send them looking in the wrong direction.”
“And not only that,” Ali added.
His voice had become more measured.
“Suppose the same man has also tampered with his educational qualifications.”
Amanah turned fully towards him.
“For example,” Ali continued, “you were just saying that your professional degree is outdated now, right?”
Amanah nodded.
“Suppose you somehow altered the records to make it appear as though you had obtained the degree recently.”
He glanced at her briefly.
“It would make it easier for you to get a job at one of those pharmaceutical firms.”
“But I would never do that,” Amanah said quickly.
Ali smiled faintly.
“I know you wouldn't.”
His eyes returned to the road.
“But if someone were given the opportunity... perhaps they might.”
“Yes,” Amanah said thoughtfully.
She rested her elbow against the door.
“Tampering with degrees and documents relating to someone's academic or professional qualifications isn't exactly unheard of in this country.”
She looked ahead through the windshield.
“People have used fake degrees and credentials to obtain prestigious positions. And the strange thing is, they're not always caught.”
She paused.
“And even when they are, they may already have spent years working in those fields using those credentials.”
Amanah shook her head slightly.
“After a while, their experience itself begins to make the credentials seem believable.”
She looked at Ali.
“People start thinking, He's been doing this job for years. He must actually belong to that profession.”
Ali remained silent.
Amanah's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
“So yes. Someone could alter their qualifications for a reason.”
She paused.
“To enter a profession they weren't originally qualified for... or to make an entirely different professional history appear legitimate.”
“But why are you asking me all this?”
Amanah's voice had changed.
She was no longer merely answering a hypothetical question.
Ali took a slow breath.
“Because I need to understand what made Mr. Haider do this.”
“What?”
Amanah turned her face towards him.
“Fake credentials,” Ali said quietly. “Ghost companies.”
She stared at him.
“Is that what you've found about Mr. Haider?”
Ali gave a small nod.
“He either procured qualifications that weren't genuine... or someone altered them for him.”
He paused.
“And the company he supposedly worked for during his early days?”
Amanah's expression sharpened.
“It didn't exist?”
Ali looked at her briefly.
“Not at all.”
Amanah covered her mouth with both hands.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she lowered her hands slowly.
“And the entire Republic speaks about him with such reverence...”
Ali nodded.
“Because he gave them reasons to.”
His fingers tapped once against the steering wheel.
“Reasons larger than life.”
He sighed.
“And Amanah... this may only be the tip of the iceberg.”
Amanah looked at him, her earlier amusement completely gone.
“To thaw the entire iceberg, the three of us will sit together this evening at Cafe Next.”
Ali changed gears as the traffic began moving more freely.
“I need to call Omer first and brief him on what I've uncovered about Mr. Haider.”
He glanced at Amanah.
“Then we can start thawing out the rest—whatever else might help us understand what was going on in his mind all those years ago.”
Amanah remained silent.
She turned towards the window again.
But this time, she wasn't watching the traffic.
She was thinking about Mr. Haider.
After reaching home, Amanah disappeared into the kitchen with the groceries, while Ali headed for the drawing room.
He dropped onto the sofa, pulled out his phone and dialled Omer.
“Man... are you free this afternoon?”
“Yes,” Omer replied.
“Then let's meet at Cafe Next.”
There was a hint of surprise in Omer's voice.
“What's going on? A sudden meeting? Don't tell me you've actually managed to verify those European certificates.”
Ali exhaled.
“More than that.”
He leaned back into the sofa.
“I think if we sit over a couple of hot coffees, we might be able to dig a little deeper into this whole mess.”
“But the weather forecast...” Omer interrupted.
Ali frowned.
“What about it?”
“Winter rainfall.”
Ali glanced towards the window.
“Never trust the Met Department. Look outside. It's practically a cloudless sky.”
Omer chuckled.
“Your city's weather is unpredictable, man. Just like its citizens.”
Ali laughed.
“Again, your city? As if you don't live here.”
“Yes...” Omer sighed. “Thanks for the reminder.”
Ali smiled.
“Anyway, I'll see you at four.”
“Fine. I'll be there.”
“And listen...” Ali paused.
“What?”
“My sister is coming along.”
There was a brief silence.
“Your sister?”
“Yeah. Amanah.”
“She knows about all this?”
Ali could almost hear the faint uncertainty in Omer's voice.
“She knows enough,” Ali replied. “And I thought it might help to have another perspective.”
Omer hummed thoughtfully.
“Fair enough.”
Ali added casually, “One thing, though. Amanah can be a little direct.”
Omer said nothing.
“She has a sharp mind and an equally sharp tongue. So if she sounds a bit bossy, don't take it personally.”
There was another short pause.
“Right,” Omer said.
He cleared his throat.
“Got it.”
Ali smiled faintly.
“Good.”
Omer exhaled.
“Then I'll see you both at four.”
“See you.”
They ended the call.
Omer stared at his phone for a moment.
Oh, man...
Omer had never been particularly fond of sharp-tongued women.
Perhaps that was one of the reasons he had stopped wasting his time looking for someone with a sweet disposition and simply preferred staying away from women altogether.
There was, however, one woman in his life who was different.
His mother.
She was neither bossy nor sharp-tongued, yet she was immensely strong and brave.
Omer's eyes drifted towards the framed photograph on his desk.
It showed his mother standing beside him, smiling warmly at the camera.
A faint smile touched his lips.
He had always admired that quality in her—the ability to be strong without becoming harsh, and firm without becoming overbearing.
His gaze lingered on the photograph for another moment.
Then he picked up his phone again and checked the time.
There was still plenty to do before the meeting.
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