Ali tapped another archived link on his phone. A slightly faded colour photograph loaded onto the display. He enlarged the image, his eyes settling on one of the young men standing among a group of scholars.
“That’s him,” Ali whispered.
Omer looked at Ali’s screen.
“Him?”
Ali nodded slowly.
“That’s a young Raza Haider.”
He moved the phone closer to Omer.
Now both men were looking at the old photograph.
Below the photograph, a printed caption listed the students, from various countries, all part of the same pioneering Computer class. Ali’s eyes tracked down the names until he suddenly stopped.
“Neelofar Usmani,” he read aloud. “The first woman from the Southern Republic to complete the programme.”
He looked across the table at Amanah, then turned to Omer beside him.
“See?”
Omer exhaled slowly, running his fingers through his hair.
“Man... this whole thing is insane.”
Amanah leaned forward, her rising curiosity clear in her voice.
“Is her thesis excerpt available too? Just like Raza’s? Any commendations... a photograph? Anything about her early career?”
Ali nodded, his eyes darting back to the glowing screen as he navigated the archives.
Beside him, Omer finally shook his head.
“I can’t take this on an empty mug.”
He pointed at his own mug.
“I’m getting more coffee.”
Then he pointed at Ali’s cup.
“Yours must be freezing by now.”
Ali suddenly became aware of his untouched drink. Absent-mindedly, he lifted it and gulped down the cold, bitter liquid in one go.
His face instantly contorted in disgust.
“Oh, man... that is completely lifeless.”
Omer suppressed a faint smile and pushed back his chair. Looking across the wooden table directly at Amanah, he asked.
“Can I get another cup for you too?”
She shook her head softly.
“Thank you, but I’m done with mine.”
Omer gathered his own mug and Ali’s, setting them onto the small tray. Ali was already back to tapping away at his mobile screen.
As Omer reached across the table towards Amanah’s mug to add it to the tray, she instinctively reached out at the exact same moment to hand it to him.
Their fingers brushed.
A sudden jolt passed between them.
Amanah held her breath and pulled her hand back instantly, as if burned. Omer instinctively withdrew his hand as well.
For a beat, an awkward silence settled between them.
Recovering first, Omer waited a second to see if Amanah would place the mug on the tray herself.
When she kept her hands folded firmly in her lap, he quietly reached out, picked up her mug, set it beside the others, and headed towards the counter.
After a while, Omer walked back to the table with the small tray.
Ali was speaking with Amanah, but both stopped when they saw him returning.
Omer handed a fresh coffee mug to Ali.
“Drink it while it’s hot.”
He pointed at Ali’s mug before sitting down and taking a sip from his own steaming coffee.
A moment later, he noticed that Amanah had resumed her discussion with Ali.
“But it doesn’t make sense,” she was saying.
Her hands moved as she spoke, showing her growing exasperation.
“Why is access to her thesis excerpt restricted?”
Omer raised an eyebrow.
“Access restricted?”
He looked from Amanah to Ali.
“And we’re talking about...?”
“Neelofar Usmani,” Amanah replied.
She paused, pointing a delicate finger at Ali’s screen.
“Her thesis title is there. The thesis excerpt is there. The commendation from the Head of Department is there.”
She folded her hands on the table.
“But access to the thesis itself is restricted.”
Omer frowned.
“Why would they restrict it?”
“Exactly.”
Amanah leaned closer to Ali’s screen.
“If this were simply an old archival record, why are the other details available? Those few sentences about her?”
Ali remained focused on his phone.
“I’m checking whether the same restriction applies to other students from that programme.”
He opened another archived record.
The page loaded.
No restriction.
He opened another.
Again, the thesis information was accessible.
Omer leaned closer.
Ali opened another student record, then another.
The results were the same.
Their academic details were accessible.
Neelofar’s was not.
Ali returned to her record.
Her name remained beneath the photograph.
Her thesis title was there.
Her commendation was there.
Even Glasgow University’s acknowledgement of her as the first computer scientist from the Southern Republic was there.
But the thesis itself remained behind the restricted-access notice.
Omer stared at the screen.
“That’s strange.”
Amanah nodded.
“Very strange.”
Ali said nothing.
He looked at Neelofar’s name for a few seconds, then scrolled back to the photograph.
Amanah watched him.
“What are you thinking?”
Ali’s eyes remained on the screen.
“Honestly... I’m not thinking anything.”
Omer glanced at him.
Ali finally looked up.
“Not yet.”
Ali finally placed his phone face-down on the wooden table, picked up his fresh mug, and took a slow sip.
Across from him, Amanah and Omer watched him with narrowed, suspicious eyes.
Finally, Omer gestured towards Ali with a dry smirk.
“Let the man recharge his mind. I’ll take it from here.”
He leaned back, resting his elbows on the table.
“So... this Neelofar Usmani. Why on earth would Ali be thinking about her? A woman who might be dead or alive, who even knows?”
He paused, glancing at Ali.
“And as a rule, when it comes to women, Ali doesn’t waste his time thinking about them.”
A faint smile touched Amanah’s lips.
“I think you’ve arrived at the correct conclusion, Omer.”
She glanced at Ali.
“He’s always been like that.”
Ali placed his mug down after a few sips, seemingly unaffected by Omer and Amanah’s conversation.
“The question is...” Omer began.
His expression had turned serious.
“What could possibly have been so objectionable about her thesis that access to it is restricted?”
He looked at the screen again.
“The same thesis that earned her that prestigious title.”
He paused.
“And yet that title seems to have frozen in Glasgow’s archival records.”
Amanah’s expression slowly changed.
Omer continued.
“I can hardly believe anyone back here ever recognised or acknowledged her worth, or that illustrious title of hers.”
He glanced at Ali.
“Because, after all, it has been Raza Haider who has spent all these decades basking in the glory of that stolen title.”
“What was the title of her thesis?” Omer asked Ali.
Ali replied casually.
“Same as his.”
Amanah’s face frowned.
“Same as whose?”
“Raza Haider’s,” Ali replied coolly.
Omer scratched his head.
“Simulation Techniques in Structural Design...?”
He looked at Ali.
“Is that it?”
“Yes.”
Ali nodded before taking another sip of his coffee.
Amanah slowly shook her head, as though she was finding it difficult to believe.
Omer stared at the screen.
“Impossible, man.”
He looked at Ali.
“How can two students from the same programme have theses with exactly the same title?”
“Perhaps...” Ali said casually.
“They were collaborating?”
Omer shook his head.
“Collaborating on research, maybe. But that still doesn’t explain identical thesis titles.”
He pointed towards the screen.
“A thesis is supposed to be an individual piece of work. They can work on related research, but each student is expected to have their own research, analysis and conclusions.”
He paused.
“So why would both of them have the exact same title?”
Ali finished his coffee and set the empty mug back onto the tray.
“What if that was just the norm back in the ’80s?” he mused aloud.
Omer shrugged, folding his arms. “Was there really such a dearth of research topics at the University of Glasgow back then? Or at the computation department, more precisely?”
“Let’s keep that aside for now,” Amanah interrupted gently, cutting through the distraction. “Ali... you were saying something about her early career?”
Ali folded his arms and straightened in his chair. “The archival records say she stayed on at the University of Glasgow after completing her Computer Science degree. She was appointed as an assistant lecturer.”
“At the same university?” Omer inquired.
Ali nodded. “Yes. According to the entry, she taught there for a term or two.”
“And then?” Omer’s voice carried a sharp urgency.
A quiet exasperation settled across Ali’s face. “ After her brief stint as a lecturer, there’s no trace of what happened to her.”
Omer gave him a thoughtful look, then unlocked his own phone.
He typed something and began scrolling through the results.
For several minutes, he searched through one result after another, refining his search and trying different combinations.
After about five minutes, he finally raised his head.
Amanah was already looking at him expectantly.
Ali, meanwhile, was going through the contents of his manila folder.
“Anything?” Amanah asked.
Omer shook his head.
“Nothing.”
He glanced at Ali.
“Ali is right.”
Omer looked back at his phone.
“Not in a basic search. Not even in a deep search.”
He lowered the device slightly, glancing sideways at Ali.
“You’re right, man.”
His expression grew thoughtful.
“Neelofar Usmani... this name... it’s almost as if she disappeared decades ago.”
Amanah picked up the thread.
“If you ask me...”
She shook her head.
“Neelofar Usmani is turning out to be far more mysterious than your precious Mr Raza Haider.”
She looked at the two men sitting across from her.
Ali exhaled slowly, a faintly amused breath escaping him.
“That makes it two women.”
Amanah lifted her chin slightly.
“Excuse me?”
“Yes.” Ali glanced at Omer, who was back to scrolling through his phone. “Omer will agree with me.”
Hearing his name, Omer looked up, utterly bewildered.
“Where am I supposed to agree with you?”
Ali leaned back in his chair, his face turned towards Omer.
“This Neelofar isn’t the only mysterious woman in this saga.”
Omer realised where he was going.
“Oh, man... you could have said that more directly.”
He straightened up in his chair and turned to Amanah.
“Noor Ain is another mysterious woman we happen to know. The difference is... Noor Ain exists.”
“And Neelofar,” Ali finished, “does not exist beyond those hidden archival records.”
Amanah leaned forward, her almond-shaped eyes widening with curiosity.
“What makes your Noor Ain mysterious?” she asked Omer.
Omer flinched.
“What makes you call her my Noor Ain?”
Ali’s dimple widened. He raised a warning finger towards his sister.
“Amanah... Omer gets offended when she’s just in the vicinity. Calling Noor Ain his Noor Ain is way beyond his level of patience.”
The colour drained slightly from Amanah’s face.
“Oh... I beg your pardon. I wasn’t aware of that.”
Omer noticed her expression.
“This Noor Ain is mysterious in far more ways than could be explained.”
He gave Ali a sideways glance.
“Hasn’t Ali informed you about her?”
Amanah simply shrugged.
“In that case...” Omer drew a breath. “I think an explanation is needed about why she’s so mysterious. Don’t you think, man?”
He looked at Ali.
Ali sighed.
“Well... she is a colleague.”
Amanah looked unconvinced.
“So... just being your colleague makes her mysterious?”
Ali replied flatly.
“She reads auras and has heightened perception.”
“Unbelievable,” Amanah blurted out.
“I mean, is she a tarot reader, a clairvoyant or a crystal-ball gazer?”
Omer added,
“I can’t say about the crystal ball...”
He paused.
“But ever since she joined the firm, she does seem to gaze at someone particular.”
Ali gave Omer a discreet nudge in the ribs.
Amanah noticed, but said nothing.
“I think we should leave Noor Ain for now,” Ali said.
Omer suppressed a smile.
“You’re the one who started it.”
Ali looked at him.
“And now I regret that.”
He turned towards Amanah.
“So, let’s get back to Raza Haider.”
Omer interrupted him.
“How? We’ve unknowingly moved our investigation far, far away from the man.”
Amanah rubbed her hands together.
“It keeps getting colder... even though the clouds have cleared.”
She glanced through the glass wall.
“Thank God.”
Before anyone could say more, Amanah’s phone rang inside her purse.
She pulled it out and answered quickly.
“It’s Mama...”
She listened for a moment, her expression becoming slightly worried.
“Yes, Mama... we’re on our way.”
Another pause.
“Yes... the rain has stopped.”
She ended the call and looked at Ali.
“Ali... I think we need to end this meeting here. Mama is getting worried.”
Ali nodded in agreement.
A few moments later, all three rose and began moving towards the door.
As they stepped away from the table, Ali glanced at Omer.
“We’re still miles away from the closure.”
Omer nodded slowly.
“It appears so.”
Amanah stopped at the counter and paid the bill.
Ali immediately noticed.
“No. Why are you paying for it?”
Amanah gave him a small smile.
“It’s all right.”
Omer looked slightly uncomfortable.
“No... the bill is on me. Ladies aren’t supposed to pay the bill.”
Amanah shook her head.
“Maybe next time.”
Omer looked at her.
For a moment, he seemed unsure how to respond.
Amanah gave him a faint smile before turning towards the door.
Ali noticed the exchange but said nothing.
The three of them stepped out of the café together.
ns216.73.216.48da2
and then Add to home screen.