Every screen here runs on Saleh's real July: SAR 59,029.48 across 50 purchases, four live cards, three banks, and the reader's eleven actual guesses waiting on a yes or a no. Nothing is sample data.
All six keep the same soul. The app reads his bank messages, guesses where each shop belongs, and asks him to confirm. What changes from one to the next is the shape that question arrives in.
Three attempts at the Arabic expense app's lesson. Saleh's verdict was blunt and correct: the palette changed, the skeleton did not. All three are a vertical list inside a phone. Kept here as the record of what the first pass got right, which is mostly the density and the confirm chips.
The Arabic diary rebuilt almost line for line: right-to-left, warm gray, day totals in a pill, add bar always mounted.
Masareef's bones inside the house standard: navy ground, one blue, 16px cards, English-led.
The first attempt at giving the list an end: shop logos, the guesses opened inline, yes and no chips.
Not three palettes. Three different answers to "what is the first thing you see when you open it." Each one takes one deliberate risk, and each is built so you can tell them apart from across the room. Patterns lifted from Copilot Money's approve-and-correct loop, Revolut's habit of measuring you against your own history, and Apple Wallet and Stocks.
The month is an issue of a magazine. One number inside a gauge drawn against his own twelve-month average, days as a rail you thumb through, then a ring of where it all went.
Your money talks to you. Every purchase arrives as a message with the shop's own mark as its avatar. When the reader is unsure it asks in a sentence, and you answer with a quick reply.
The cards are the app. His four real cards in a stack; tap one and the whole screen narrows to it. Thirteen months as bars, the month as a grid of tiles, the inbox carrying a badge.
designstudio / cfo-contact-sheet
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