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Chapter 65, High Expectations Part 5.
Last Updated:
2025-03-12 02:03:12
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A Twist In My Marriage Deal With The CEO Chapter 66, High Expectations, Part 6.
As I stood there, the weight of the moment pressing down on my shoulders, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride and anticipation. The room was filled with dignitaries, their eyes fixed on Rami’s father as he stepped forward to deliver his speech. The air was thick with expectation, and I could sense the gravity of the occasion settling over everyone present.From my point, I watched him closely, noting the way he carried himself—calm, composed, and radiating a quiet confidence. He began to speak, his voice steady and resonant, filling the room with a sense of authority and purpose. "This new position is not just an honor," he declared, "but a profound responsibility. One that I do not take lightly."I felt a shiver run down my spine as his words echoed through the hall. He spoke of his commitment to serve his Majesty with unwavering dedication, to utilize every resource at his disposal, and to draw upon the depths of his knowledge and experience to fulfill his duties. His voice wa
Last Updated : 2025-03-13A Twist In My Marriage Deal With The CEO Chapter 67, High Expectations, Part 7.
I sat in the sitting room, my hands folded neatly in my lap, trying to steady the nervous flutter in my chest. The afternoon light filtered through the tall windows, casting a warm glow over the ornate furniture. My father-in-law had insisted that this woman, Salima, would be the perfect guide to help me navigate the complexities of the royal court. I trusted his judgment, but the weight of what lay ahead pressed heavily on me. I wasn’t just a newcomer to this world; I was an outsider, and every misstep felt like it could cost me dearly.The sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway, and I straightened my posture instinctively. The door opened, and there she was—Salima. She carried herself with an air of quiet confidence, her posture upright but not rigid, her gaze sharp but not unkind. She was older than I had imagined, her hair streaked with silver, but there was a vitality in her movements that belied her age.“Good afternoon,” she said, her voice calm and measured. “I am Salima. Yo
Last Updated : 2025-03-14A Twist In My Marriage Deal With The CEO Chapter 68, High Expectations, Final Part.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across my room. I was still half-asleep, the remnants of last night’s grandeur lingering in my mind—the glittering chandeliers, the hum of conversation, the way Rami’s hand had felt steady on my back as we navigated the crowd. But the peace was short-lived. A soft knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts, and Tala entered, her usual calm demeanor replaced by something tense, almost urgent.“Good morning, Dema,” she said, her voice low. She held her phone in her hand, her fingers gripping it tightly. “There’s something you need to see.”I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “What is it, Tala? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”She hesitated, then handed me the phone. “It’s about last night. The engagement party. Someone… someone filmed it. Everything. And now it’s all over social media.”I blinked, trying to process her words. “Filmed? What do you mean, *everything*?”“The entire event,” she said, her voice t
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I’ve been watching Rami closely these past few days, and something feels off. He’s not himself. The man I know is calm, patient, and thoughtful, but lately, he’s been a storm of emotions—irritable, moody, and quick to anger. It’s like living with a stranger, and it’s starting to worry me. This morning, I heard him yelling at the maid from the kitchen. His voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet of the house like a knife. I rushed in to see what was wrong, only to find him berating her for putting sugar in his coffee. “I don’t take sugar anymore! How many times do I have to say it?” he snapped, his face red with frustration. The poor maid stood there, trembling, holding the offending cup. I tried to intervene, reminding him that he’s always taken sugar in his coffee, but he just brushed me off. “I’ve stopped consuming sugar lately,” he muttered, as if that explained everything. But it didn’t. Not to me. Later, I found him in the garden, pacing back and forth in front of the flowe
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I sat on the edge of the couch, my fingers nervously twisting the hem of my sleeve. Rami had been so distant lately, so angry, and I couldn’t figure out why. It wasn’t like him. He used to come home with a smile, pulling me into his arms as soon as he walked through the door. Now, he barely looked at me, he's stressed all the time and his temper flaring over the smallest things. I felt helpless, and I hated it.Tala stood across from me, dusting the shelves with her usual efficiency, but her eyes kept flicking toward me, soft with concern. “Tala,” I began, my voice hesitant, “I don’t know what to do anymore. Rami’s been so stressed, so angry. I’ve tried talking to him, but he just shuts me out. I want to help him, but I don’t even know where to start.”She paused, the duster hovering mid-air, and turned to face me fully. Her expression was thoughtful, her lips pursed as if weighing her words carefully. “You know,” she said slowly, “Rami’s always been a mama’s boy. If anyone knows wha
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I was sitting in my office, of the sound of the computer filling the room, when my phone buzzed on the desk. I glanced at it, expecting a work email or maybe a text from Rami. But the notification was from an unknown number. My brow furrowed as I unlocked the screen and opened the message. It was a picture. My stomach dropped.There he was—Rami, my husband—sitting across from a woman in a restaurant. They were leaning in close, her hand resting on the table near his. My chest tightened, but I forced myself to breathe. I wasn’t going to let this rattle me. Whoever sent this clearly wanted a reaction, and I wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction. I typed out a quick reply, my fingers steady despite the anger simmering beneath the surface.*“I’m not interested in whatever game you’re playing. Do not contact me again.”*I hit send and immediately blocked the number. My hands trembled slightly as I set the phone down, but I refused to let it consume me. I had work to do. I turned back
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The pressure of the day settled heavy on me, a weight on my stiff shoulders and clenched jaw. The room felt far too small and the air thick; I wished to be left alone. Rami was walking toward me, his footsteps quiet, but I knew what was coming: the kiss, the touches. But not tonight. I was just not in the mood to fake things. He leaned in, trying to kiss my forehead, but I stiffened and stepped back. I did not look at him; I could not. Because if I did, I might break down, and I could not let him see me like that—not yet."What's wrong, Dema?" he asked in a low, cautious voice.I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest. "Nothing, I'm just tired tonight, and I'm not in the mood"I turned to walk out of the room, looking for some breathing space where I could think without him hovering.But he wouldn't let me. He grabbed my wrist; his grip was strong but not painful. He pulled me back to face him. "Answer me," he said, the volume of his voice edging up. "I hate when you talk to
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I stumbled out of the mansion, my vision blurred by the tears streaming down my face. My chest felt like it had been ripped open, my heart shattered into pieces I didn’t think could ever be put back together. The cool night air hit my skin, but I barely felt it. All I could feel was the crushing weight of betrayal, of anger, of hurt. Rami’s words echoed in my mind, each one a dagger twisting deeper. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I just needed to get away.I fumbled with the car door, my hands trembling so badly I could barely grip the handle. My sobs were loud, uncontrollable, and I hated how weak I sounded, how weak I felt. I just wanted to disappear, to drive far away where I wouldn’t have to face him, where I wouldn’t have to face the mess of emotions tearing me apart. I slid into the driver’s seat, my body shaking, and reached for the door to slam it shut.But before I could, a hand gripped the edge of the door, stopping it. I looked up, and there he was. Rami. His face wa
Last Updated : 2025-03-20
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Three months later : The sun was warm against my skin as I lounged on the soft sand, the sound of gentle waves lapping at the shore. Our little girl was napping in the shade, and for the first time in months, Rami and I were completely at ease—no work, no responsibilities, just us. I watched as Rami walked toward me, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I have a surprise for you," he said, his voice low and playful. "A surprise?" I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. He had been acting a little secretive all morning. "Close your eyes," he instructed, grinning. I laughed but obeyed, squeezing my eyes shut. I felt him place something small and cool in my palm. "Okay, open them." When I did, I found a small velvet box resting in my hand. My heart skipped—was this what I thought it was? But when I flipped it open, there was a polished key. I looked up at him, confused. "What’s this for?" His smile widened. "It’s the key to a treasure box." I blinked. "A… treasure box?" "Mmhmm.
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It's 7 AM, and I'm still awake. My baby cried inconsolably throughout the night. I didn't know what was wrong with her. I fed her, changed her diaper, and put her in her crib, but she wouldn't settle down. Then she had a prolonged crying fit; I tried everything to soothe her—rocking, singing lullabies, even offering a pacifier—but nothing worked. Finally, as a last resort, I put on a YouTube video of children's colors, and she miraculously fell asleep watching it. Even after she finally drifted off, I couldn't rest. I tossed and turned, my mind racing. The worst part was replaying my conversation with my mother-in-law and her incredibly hurtful words: "It's just the nature of rich men like them." The casual cruelty of her statement stunned me. I couldn't believe she had endured such blatant disrespect and mistreatment for over thirty years. Part of me felt a deep sorrow for her, a sense of empathy for the pain she'd silently carried. However, that sorrow was quickly overshad
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The afternoon sun was warm against my skin as I pushed the stroller along the beach, the sound of waves lapping at the shore a quiet comfort. My little girl cooed softly, her tiny fingers reaching toward the sky as if trying to catch the breeze. For a moment, everything felt peaceful—until my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, my stomach tightening as I read the message. "I’m coming to take you and the baby to the doctor for her vaccine. Be ready." My mother-in-law’s words left no room for argument. I didn’t want to go with her—I didn’t want her hovering over me, dictating every little thing—but I knew better than to refuse. By the time she arrived, I had already buckled the baby into her car seat, my movements stiff with forced obedience. The moment we got in the car, she started talking—no, lecturing—about infant diseases, how to prevent them, what symptoms to watch for. Her voice filled the space, leaving no air for me to breathe. I stayed quiet, staring out the wind
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I woke up to an empty bed, the space beside me cold and untouched. Rami wasn’t home—again. But for once, I didn’t care. I didn’t want to see him. The heaviness in my chest wasn’t sadness this time, just exhaustion. My hand instinctively rested on my belly, the gentle curve of my baby girl reminding me of what truly mattered. She was my focus now—we were my focus. No more waiting, no more begging for scraps of attention. If Rami wanted to disappear, let him. I stretched slowly, savoring the quiet. No arguments, no tension—just peace. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I could breathe. Today wasn’t about him. Today was about us and that was enough.Two days. Two whole days, and Rami hadn’t come home. And you know what? I didn’t care. Not enough to call, not enough to ask. When he finally walked through the door, I didn’t even glance his way. He lingered around, pretending like everything was normal, until two hours later, he finally decided to speak. "How’s the baby
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The baby coos softly in my arms, her tiny fingers curling around mine. She’s so perfect—her dark eyes wide and curious, her lips puckered in a little pout. What will we call you, habibti? Across from me, Rami' mother beams, reaching over to stroke the baby’s cheek. "Look at her smile! She’s a Farah, through and through."My grip tightens just a little. Farah. The name hangs in the air like an expectation. "I was thinking… maybe Sora,"I say carefully. "Or Asmaa." Rami's mother waves a hand dismissively. "Sora is nice, but Farah is personal. It was my mother’s name—bless her soul—and it would mean so much to us to carry it on."I swallow hard. Of course. Always family. Always tradition. "I just… I want her to have her own special name," I murmur, tracing the baby’s delicate eyebrows. "Something that represents her."Rami's mother sighs, shaking her head like I’m being sentimental. "Habibti, names are gifts. Farah means joy—and look at her! She’s already filling this house with it.
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The hospital room feels too bright, too sterile, as I gather the last of my things. My body still aches, a dull throb reminding me of what I’ve just been through. But that’s not what’s twisting inside me. It’s him. Rami. Standing there, clueless as ever, flashing that easy smile like nothing’s wrong. “You ready to go, Habibti?” he asks, reaching for my bag. I tighten my grip on it and brush past him without a word. Let him wonder. Let him think I’m just some hormonal mess, exhausted from giving birth. If he were paying attention at all, he’d know this isn’t about fatigue. His mother swoops in with her usual efficiency, cooing over the baby in my arms. “Mashallah, what a beautiful baby” she murmurs, her fingers brushing her tiny cheek. Then, to me, in that tone that’s half sweetness, half command: “Don’t worry, Dema, I’ll stay with you for a few days. You’ll need help.” I force a tight smile. I don’t want her there. Not now. Not when every glance at Rami makes my chest burn. B
A Twist In My Marriage Deal With The CEO Chapter 120, A Silent Storm.
The pain is unbearable. It’s been a whole day since my water broke, and still, nothing. My body is shaking, drenched in sweat, my muscles screaming in protest with every contraction. The nurses hover around me, their faces tight with worry. I hear them whispering to my mother-in-law—something about a c-section. No. I don’t want that. I wanted to do this naturally. I wanted to be strong. But I’m not strong anymore. I’m broken. My mother-in-law tells them to wait. Just one more hour, she says. Maybe I’ll push through. Maybe my body will finally listen. The hour passes in a blur of agony. I’m so tired. My vision swims, the edges darkening. I can’t—I can’t do this anymore. My limbs feel like lead, my breath coming in shallow gasps. I’m slipping. My head hearts even more than my body. Then I hear a voice. It was Soft but firm. Telling me to be strong. I could feel a hand gripping mine, warm and steady. "Be brave, Dema. You can do this." I don’t know who it is—maybe my mother in l
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I sigh, tossing my phone onto the couch beside me. Another dull afternoon trapped inside. The walls feel like they’re closing in on me, but what can I do? The doctor said no unnecessary outings, no stress—just rest. Rest. Like I haven’t been resting for months already. My fingers drum against my swollen belly, frustration simmering beneath my skin. I reach for the remote, flipping through channels mindlessly. Nothing holds my attention. Just stupid talk shows and reruns of dramas I’ve already seen. Then—I got a message. A message from Rola. I grab my phone, grateful for any distraction. It’s a video. Probably some gossip or event she’s at, rubbing it in that she’s out there living while I’m stuck here like a prisoner in my own home. I tap the screen, and the video loads. It’s some commercial event—flashy lights, cameras, people dressed to impress. And there he is. My Rami. My lips twitch into a small smile at first. He looks good, confident, charming the crowd like always. I s
A Twist In My Marriage Deal With The CEO Chapter 118, Positive Change.
A sharp pain jolts me awake, my breath catching in my throat. I clutch my swollen belly, waiting—hoping—for it to fade. But then another one comes, tighter this time, and panic prickles under my skin. Is this it? I fumble for my phone, hands trembling as I dial Rami first. He answers on the third ring, voice thick with sleep. "Dema? What's wrong?" "I—I think it's happening," I whisper, my throat tight. I can almost hear him springing out of bed. "I'm coming right now. Call my mother." The next call is a blur—my mother-in-law's calm voice cutting through my fear, promising she'll be here soon. By the time I hang up, sweat beads at my temples. She arrives before Rami does, her steady hands guiding me to sit while she calls an ambulance. "Better safe than sorry," she murmurs, smoothing my hair back. The ride to the hospital is a haze of contractions and nervous breaths. Rami meets us there, his face pale, his grip crushing my fingers as the doctors check me. Then—the verdict
