I am Abdulrahman Azmy. I write these apps, and there is nobody else.

Every one of these apps works the same way, and it is deliberately a small way. You record what actually happened. A function reads what you recorded and returns a number, a schedule or a page. The number is shown with the date range it was measured over. Nothing is inferred about you that the arithmetic does not support, and where the data cannot support a conclusion the app prints that instead of a conclusion.

The interesting consequence is how much this rules out. The refusals below are not marketing positions; they are constraints written into each app's own specification, and each one costs something.

No AI, in any app

A language model cannot be checked and does not give the same answer twice. If the app tells you your hot flushes fell from 2.8 a day to 1.1 over the fourteen days from 1 April, you can count the entries yourself and get the same figure. That property is worth more than anything a chat box adds, and I would have to give it up to get the chat box. This is a rule in every app's specification, not a roadmap item.

No coaching, and no congratulation

No "Great job", no confetti, no streak celebration, no exclamation marks, no emoji in the interface. Two reasons. Celebration makes the app the authority on whether your day was good, which it is not. And an app that congratulates you has to decide what a slip means — so it either scolds you or lies. Mine states the count and its direction and stops.

No lock

Nothing here blocks, restricts or prevents access to anything. iOS cannot enforce it: a determined person switches any blocker off in about a minute, and the one-star reviews of the apps that sell one are almost entirely people who did exactly that and want their money back. Selling a promise the phone cannot keep is the single most common dishonesty in this category, so the apps say plainly that they do not do it.

No prediction where a prediction would be a lie

PeriLog will not tell you when your next period is due, will not name a fertile window and will not name a stage. Every other app in that category assumes a cycle it can extrapolate. Your cycle stopping being predictable is the reason you opened the app, so the extrapolation is the part that is broken. Removing it is the whole product.

No account, no login, no server

There is nothing to sign up for and no password to reset. What you record stays on your iPhone and in your own iCloud, which is yours and not mine. I never receive it, which means I cannot lose it, cannot be compelled to hand it over and cannot sell it. It also means I cannot recover it for you if you lose the device and have iCloud turned off, and that trade is the honest cost of the arrangement.

No ads, in any tier, ever

An advertising network is a third party inside the app receiving data about someone logging a relapse at 1am. There is no version of that I am willing to ship, including a "free tier only" version.

No weekly subscription

Weekly pricing exists because a weekly figure reads as small and bills as something else: $4.99 a week is $259.48 a year, and it is presented in the place a person expects to see the cheap option. It is common in behaviour-change apps, the complaints about it are easy to find in their reviews, and it is a large part of why I started writing these. Monthly and yearly only, with the price, the renewal date and the route to cancelling printed directly above the purchase button rather than under it.

Nothing that might help at one in the morning is behind the paywall

The counter, the log, the widget and the urge flow are free permanently in every app. This is a real cost — those are the features that would convert best if I locked them — and it is the rule I am least willing to move. What you pay for is the arithmetic that takes ninety days of your own records and turns them into a schedule, a projection or a printable page.

Each app's arithmetic lives in its own package, separate from the interface, and it is written as plain functions: values in, values out, no hidden state. The calendar, the time zone and the current time are all passed in rather than read from the system, so a test can move a user through ninety days in a few milliseconds and get a deterministic answer. Reading the clock directly is banned inside those functions — it is the thing that makes date arithmetic untestable, and date arithmetic is most of what these apps do.

None of them opens a network connection. That is not a claim about my intentions; it is a property you can check from the outside, because there is no account to create, nothing to log in to and no server for me to run.

The apps do not share a look. They share a standard — the same discipline about testing, the same refusals, the same treatment of prices and cancellation — and each one is drawn around its own object: a step-down ladder, a photo frame, a printed page, a ruled statement. The four app pages on this site are laid out the same way, one artefact each, which is why they do not look like each other either.

State on 4 August 2026, and it will date. Nothing here is approved, so nothing is available to download.

Two more apps are built without a listing. Eight more are written down and paused.

They are paused because of what I found when I reviewed the whole portfolio in August 2026. The arithmetic inside each app was genuinely different — the engines share no logic — but what a person actually sees was too similar between them: near-identical paywalls, the same onboarding scaffold, the same navigation shape in three of them, and an icon set built to one formula. That is a real defect whether or not anyone else ever notices it, and shipping eight more apps on top of it would have been the wrong order of work. Fixing the visible half is what I am doing now, which is also why Stepdown has legal pages on this site and no page of its own yet.

There are no user numbers, download counts or test totals anywhere on this site. Nobody has used these apps, so any figure of that kind would be invented.

Every page here is a file. There is no framework, no bundler, no client-side router and no JavaScript at all — not deferred, not optional, none. The type is whatever your system already has, so nothing is fetched from a font host. There is no analytics, no cookie, no consent banner, because nothing is collected and there would be nothing to consent to.

The reason is not minimalism for its own sake. Five App Store listings and five uploaded builds link to twenty legal documents on this domain, and Apple checks that those links resolve. A privacy policy that needs a JavaScript bundle to boot is a privacy policy that can fail to open, and a link compiled into a shipped app cannot be changed afterwards. So those twenty pages are plain HTML with no styling framework and no scripts, the build refuses to finish if any one of them is missing, and there is no catch-all redirect on the host that could quietly serve this page in place of one of them.

The site is set as a printed document because that is what the products are: PeriLog's paid artefact is a page a doctor reads in a ten-minute appointment, and BetLedger's is a statement someone finally opened. Hairline rules, right-aligned figures in tabular numerals, letter-spaced labels in the margin. It prints properly, too.

Abdulrahman Azmy · Dubai, United Arab Emirates

hello@xuranium.com for anything, support@xuranium.com for an app that is misbehaving. Both reach me. If something on this site is wrong or out of date, that is worth an email — I would rather correct it than have it stand.