Beyond

HITS AND MISSES

Lagos, Nigeria.

17th March 2017.

Good morning, everyone." Kamal greeted, striding into the spacious conference room. He handed a file to his assistant, Favor, who swiftly distributed copies to the team members seated around the long, polished table.

The room fell into silence as Kamal meticulously reviewed the report. His fingers drummed anxiously on the table, his eyes darting to the report but failing to focus. The weight of responsibility etched lines on his forehead, causing a silent turmoil in the set of his jaw.

After a few minutes, Kamal cleared his throat, breaking the silence, and addressed the team with a mix of seriousness and acknowledgment. "This is impressive," he said, his tone carrying a blend of approval and determination. "We are making considerable progress, although we still need to do more. But overall, good work, guys."

The team members exchanged glances, pleased with his acknowledgment.

Dressed in a dark suit and a neatly arranged tie, Kamal's appearance mirrored his serious mood. He occasionally glanced at his phone, his fingers instinctively reaching for it, only to be stopped by the need to maintain professionalism.

"What's the status of the 'Go-Stride' project?" Kamal asked, directing the question to Kunle.

The Go-Stride was a cab-hailing app they had been working on for the past few months.

"We are still on the beta version," Kunle replied.

Kamal frowned, his expression hardening. "You said a month. It is getting to two months now. You know how I get with deadlines and promises. Or should I take over? I believe I pay you for that, so why the delay?"

"I am sorry, sir," Kunle apologized. "We ran into some unforeseen issues."

"I do not want to hear your excuses," Kamal cut him off. "I want to see something by Monday. Meeting over. You can all leave."

As the team members filed out of the conference room, Kamal beckoned to Favor. "Please book a flight for tomorrow to Abuja for my sister and send the details."

"Yes, sir," Favor replied, nodding her head before leaving the room.

Across the table, Sa'ad, clad in a well-tailored kaftan with intricate designs, carried himself with confidence despite his large build, his presence a stark contrast to Kamal's somber demeanor.

"What's up?" Sa'ad asked.

Kamal shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Nothing. Don't you have projects to oversee?"

"Perks of being a Vice President? I can chill," Sa'ad joked. "Now tell me, what trouble is going on in paradise?"

Kamal rolled his eyes. "What makes you think there's trouble?"

"For starters, you are missing that look you've had on for months." Sa'ad pointed out, leaning forward.

"What look?"

Sa'ad, who had been Kamal's friend since childhood, eyed Kamal with curiosity. They were inseparable growing up, sharing secrets and adventures—a bond that transcended the ordinary. 

He scoffed. "Come off it, guy. Ever since you met that babe, you have been moving like you won the lottery or something."

Kamal hissed. "I am not in the mood for your nonsense, Sa'ad."

"Ahaps that confirms it. There is trouble in paradise. What did you do this time around?"

"Yes, everything has to be my fault. Of course."