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chapter 29 Marah's Secret, (Part 5)
Last Updated:
2025-02-17 21:07:26
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My phone buzzed, a little vibration in my pocket. I snatched it up, my heart leaping into my throat. It was Rami. Coming back tomorrow, the text read. A wave of relief washed over me, quickly followed by a pang of something… else. Disappointment? Frustration? I wasn't sure.I'd been pacing this room for the last hour, maybe more. Back and forth, back and forth, wearing a groove in the rug. I’d imagined his return a hundred times. Me, waiting at the airport, a banner in hand (too cheesy? I’d debated), running into his arms…But his next text had squashed that image flat. No need to come to the airport. My assistant is picking me up and taking me home. Just like that. Business as usual.Fine. I could play it cool. I would play it cool. I’d wait for him at the apartment. Make it special. I pictured myself in that new dress I’d been saving, something slinky and sophisticated. I'd even try my hand at that Moroccan dish he loved. I’d do it all myself.But even as the images f
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The doorbell chimed, a nervous flutter in my stomach. I clutched the gift bag a little tighter. It was a beautiful, vibrant Thobe, the one Rami had picked out himself. He’d insisted I give it to his mother, said it would cheer her up after her hospital stay. I hoped he was right.I plastered a smile on my face as the door swung open, revealing my mother-in-law. “Dema, habibti, come in, come in.” Her voice was surprisingly warm, but I knew better than to be fooled. Behind her, I saw her two sisters perched on the plush sofas in the living room, their eyes already assessing me.“Alhamdulillah, you’re looking much better,” I said, offering a small hug. She stiffened slightly, but I pretended not to notice. I handed her the gift bag. “Rami wanted you to have this. He helped me choose it.”She pulled out the Thobe, the rich colours unfolding like a peacock’s tail. She held it up, examining it with a critical eye. “Did you pick this out yourself?” she asked, her tone suddenly sharper.
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Work today was going smooth, no drama, no need for extra shifts and no reports to write.I was scrolling through my phone during my lunch break, I stumbled upon a compilation of funny baby videos. Giggles bubbled up inside me as I watched a little one try to eat spaghetti for the first time, ending up covered in sauce. A genuine smile stretched across my face. They were just so… pure. So full of innocent joy.But then, the smile faltered. The image of Rami’s face flashed in my mind, his brow furrowed slightly as he’d said, “.I’m not interested in having children right now.” The words, though spoken gently, echoed in my head, a dull ache settling in my chest. It was like a tiny pinprick deflating a balloon of happines.I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, my thumb still hovering over the baby videos. The desire to be a mother, a longing that had been simmering within me for years, suddenly felt overwhelming. More than anything, I craved the warmth of a family, the unc
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The past week had been a living nightmare, literally. Every night, I was plagued by terrifying dreams, jolting awake in a cold sweat, my heart pounding in my chest. Sometimes, Rami would be there, his arms wrapping around me, his voice soothing and comforting. Other times, I’d slip out of bed, not wanting to disturb him, and retreat to the spare room. Even when I stayed in our bed, I’d often pretend to be asleep, lying there wide-eyed in the darkness until the first rays of dawn crept through the curtains. Sleep had become a battleground.This morning, I was on the balcony, sipping my tea, trying to shake off the lingering remnants of another horrific dream. Tala, our maid, came out, a look of concern etched on her face. “Madam,” she began hesitantly, “I… I know you’ve been having trouble sleeping.”I nodded, stirring my tea absently.“My mother used to have terrible nightmares, too,” Tala continued. “We went to a sheikh, and he helped her. He said… he said another woman ha
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The waiting room was hushed, a gentle hum of nervous energy I knew all too well. My hands were clammy, twisting the strap of my purse. Rami had recommended Dr. Karima, a psychologist he spoke of with reverence.Apparently, she was the person to see in Dubai. I had to admit, the office itself was calming, soft colours and tasteful art. It was a far cry from the sterile, clinical environments I'd imagined.When Dr. Karima finally called my name, her smile was warm and genuine. She extended her hand, her grip firm but gentle. "Dema, please come in. I'm so glad to finally meet you."Her office was even more inviting than the waiting room. Sunlight streamed through the large window, illuminating the comfortable armchairs. She gestured towards one, and I sank into it gratefully. "Please, make yourself comfortable," she said, settling into the chair opposite me. she leaned back slightly, her expression encouraging. "So, Dema," she began, her voice calm and soothing. "Rami tells
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The weight of the unknown pressed down on me, a constant, dull ache. Books lined my shelves, their pages filled with stories of lives lived, histories explored. But none of them held a single clue to my story. I’d devoured them, desperate for a spark of recognition, a flicker of memory, anything. But it was no use. My past was a blank canvas. Finally, I gave up. The search was too painful, the emptiness too cruel.With shaky fingers, I dialed the number I’d memorized years ago. It was time. Time to face the only person who might have answers. My old teacher from the orphanage. When she answered, her voice was warm and familiar, a comforting anchor in the sea of my uncertainty.“Hello, Miss Fatin,” I said, my voice a little shaky. “It’s Dema.”“Dema! My dear girl! How wonderful to hear from you!”We chatted for a few minutes, catching up on trivial things, before I finally gathered the courage to ask the questions that had haunted me for so long.“Miss Fatin,” I began, my hea
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The plush, velvety chair felt strangely comforting beneath me, a stark contrast to the turmoil churning inside. Dr. Karima sat opposite, her expression a careful blend of concern and professional detachment. “I was drowning, Dr. Karima,” I began, my voice barely a whisper. “The water was icy, pulling me down, and I couldn’t breathe. Then, through the murky water, I saw this… house. Small, almost a shack, really. And there were two people inside it.”I paused, swallowing hard, the memory tightening my chest. “A man and a woman. They looked miserable, the man was shouting, though I couldn’t hear the words. And then… he hit her.” My breath hitched. “He brutally beat her up, Dr. Karima. It was so terrifying.” My hands twisted in my lap. “The worst part was, she didn’t even react at first. Just… stood there. Like she was used to it. And then, after he left – he just walked away, like it was nothing – she got up. Slowly and walked away.”I looked up at Dr. Karima, my eyes search
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Dr. Karima’s voice was soothing, a gentle counterpoint to the frantic drumming of my heart. “Close your eyes, Dema. Breathe deeply. Let the tension drain from your shoulders.” I did as she instructed. “Now,” she continued, “think back. Think about your childhood, about your old house.”Images flickered behind my eyelids – fragmented scenes, like snapshots scattered across a dusty album. Dr. Karima’s voice guided me, gently prodding at the edges of my memory. “What do you see, Dema?”I saw rain. Sheets of it, lashing against the small windowpanes of our old house. The wind howled like a hungry wolf, rattling the flimsy frames. It was a storm, the kind that made the whole house tremble. Fear, cold and clammy, gripped me. I was small, huddled under thin blankets, the darkness punctuated by flashes of lightning.Then, Momma was there. Her hands, rough from work but always gentle as she stroke my hair. “It’s alright, habibti,” she whispered, her voice a warm blanket against the storm’s f
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A Twist In My Marriage Deal With The CEO Chapter 155, Farah's party.
I can’t believe Farah is already one year old today. My baby girl, one whole year. It feels like just yesterday I was holding her for the first time, tiny and fragile in my arms. Now she’s babbling, crawling, grabbing at everything in sight. But of course, my mother-in-law is insisting on throwing her a big birthday party. Of course. I don’t have the heart to say no outright, but the idea makes my skin crawl. Farah won’t even remember this. She’ll be overwhelmed, overstimulated, and then cranky for days afterward. And the guests, A room full of middle-aged women who don’t believe in germs or personal space. They’ll swarm her, pinching her cheeks, covering her in sloppy kisses, passing her around like a party favor. Her immune system is still so new. She doesn’t need all that. I don’t need all that. But here we are. Balloons, cake, a tiny party hat that Farah will inevitably rip off in two seconds. I’ll spend the whole time hovering, sanitizing hands, gently pulling her away from
A Twist In My Marriage Deal With The CEO Chapter 154, Rami's Dairies Part 29.
I’m the worst husband on earth. I’ve come to terms with that fact, no I actually accepted it. It’s not just some fleeting thought anymore, not some dramatic exaggeration to wallow in self-pity. It’s the truth, carved into my bones, etched into every regret that keeps me awake at night. I know it now, with a certainty that aches worse than any wound. And the worst part? I’m used to this feeling. It’s familiar, like an old coat I’ve worn so long I’ve forgotten the weight of it. Before Dema, I was careless. No—worse than careless. I was cruel in the most effortless way, the kind of cruelty that doesn’t even recognize itself. I moved through the world like a proud hawk I was untouchable, unbothered by anything. I did what I wanted, went where I pleased, let people drift into my orbit just long enough to make them believe in something that was never real. I’d smile, I’d charm them , I’d let them hope I would let them dream and then, when the novelty wore off or the guilt prickled too sha
A Twist In My Marriage Deal With The CEO Chapter 153, Rami's Dairies Part 28.
My mom left today, and with her departure, the last barrier between Dema and me vanished. There was no more avoiding the elephant in the room—no more excuses, no more distractions. Dema had no choice but to talk to me now, and as much as I didn’t want to push her, I couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine. I needed answers. I needed to know what I had done wrong, or else the cracks in our relationship would only deepen until there was nothing left to salvage. When I finally gathered the courage to approach her, to ask her why she was so distant, why the anger in her eyes never seemed to fade, things spiraled out of control almost immediately. The moment I opened my mouth, it was like stepping on a landmine. She brought up that night—the night of the commercial event. The night I made a reckless, selfish mistake by staying out late with a woman who wasn’t my wife. My stomach twisted at the memory, at the way I had tried to justify it instead of just owning up to my poor judgme
A Twist In My Marriage Deal With The CEO Chapter 152, Rami's Dairies Part 27.
The first few days after Dema gave birth, I told myself it was normal—the exhaustion, the mood swings, the distance. But the way she looked at me, or rather, didn’t look at me, made my chest tighten with something uneasy. I tried to approach her one evening as she sat by the window, the dim light casting shadows over her tired face. The baby was finally asleep, and I thought maybe now she’d let me in, even just a little. “Dema,” I said softly, resting a hand on her shoulder. “How are you feeling?” She didn’t turn. Just stiffened under my touch before shrugging me off. “I’m fine.” The words were ice. I swallowed, forcing a smile she couldn’t see. “You’ve been quiet. I just… I want to make sure you’re okay.” A pause. Then a sigh, heavy with something unspoken. “I said I’m fine.” I hesitated, my hand hovering in the air before dropping to my side. “If you need anything—” “I don’t.” The finality in her voice cut deeper than I expected. I stood there, useless, before finally
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The day Dema’s water broke, I wasn’t there. Of course, I wasn’t. I had a packed schedule, meetings stacked back-to-back, and I was all the way on the other side of the city. When I got the call, my stomach dropped. I tried to wrap things up fast, but the discussion dragged on, every minute stretching like hours. By the time I finally got out, my hands were shaking as I fumbled with my keys. I jumped in the car, swearing under my breath as I mapped out every possible shortcut. But of course—just my luck—the traffic was a nightmare. Cars inched forward like they were moving through tar. I gripped the wheel, my foot tapping impatiently, heart pounding in my ears. "Come on, come on."When it became clear I wasn’t getting anywhere fast, I made a split-second decision. I pulled into the first rental parking lot I saw, threw the car into park, and bolted. I ran until my lungs burned, dodging pedestrians, my dress shoes slapping against the pavement. At the highway, I flagged down a taxi,I
A Twist In My Marriage Deal With The CEO Chapter 150, Rami's Dairies Part 25.
I had planned to take Dema to the commercial event and even picked out a beautiful dress for her as a surprise. I imagined how happy she’d be when she sees it and how lovely she’d look that evening. But when I got home, I found her lying on her back on the couch, exhausted. “I’m too tired,” she said weakly. When I told her about the event, she shook her head. “I can’t go. I’m exhausted—I don’t feel good, and I don’t look good enough to attend.” I left Dema alone at home and went to the event by myself. The evening dragged on—my team handled everything perfectly, leaving me with little to do. That’s when I spotted her.Her name is Jasmine . She's One of our former managers. She’d quit years ago when she got pregnant, choosing to raise her son over climbing the corporate ladder. Now here she was, gliding through the crowd like she’d never left. She smiled when she saw me. “Rami, how are you? It's been a long time.”We fell into easy conversation, reminiscing about her old days at
A Twist In My Marriage Deal With The CEO Chapter 149, Rami's Dairies Part 24.
Last night was one of the longest nights I’ve ever experienced. Dema had been throwing up on and off for hours, her discomfort keeping both of us awake well past midnight. Each time I heard her retching in the bathroom, my chest tightened with worry. I hovered near the door, offering water, a cold towel, anything to ease her nausea. At one point, I even suggested taking her to the emergency room, fearing she might be seriously ill, but she waved me off weakly. "It’s fine, really," she insisted, her voice hoarse from the strain."This is normal—just part of it." I didn’t understand how anything so exhausting could be normal but she assured me it was just her body adjusting. Still, I couldn’t shake the helplessness gnawing at me. Eventually, the vomiting subsided, but sleep remained out of reach for her. Restless and drained, she wandered out to the balcony, seeking the cool night air. I watched from the doorway as she settled into the wicker chair, her silhouette outlined by the p
A Twist In My Marriage Deal With The CEO Chapter 148, Rami's Dairies Part 23.
When Dema told me she was pregnant, I didn’t know what came over me. My chest tightened, my thoughts raced, and for a moment, I couldn’t even form a response. We had talked about having kids many times before—long conversations that stretched late into the night, filled with hopes, fears, and unspoken tensions. Every time, I told her I wasn’t ready, that the timing wasn’t right, that we needed to wait. And every time, she would look at me with those deep, pleading eyes, her voice soft but unwavering as she explained why she wanted this so badly. She had been an orphan, raised in a system that never gave her the warmth of a real family. She told me how she used to watch other children with their parents, aching for something she never had—a home, stability, unconditional love. To her, having a child wasn’t just a desire; it was a need, a way to fill a void that had been hollowed out by years of loneliness. She feared that if we kept dismissing the idea, she might never get the chance
A Twist In My Marriage Deal With The CEO Chapter 147, Rami's Dairies Part 22.
Love is such a strong word, if you ask me. It's a kind of driving force—something deep and complicated for some people, yet so simple and spontaneous for others. I used to believe that people who have more get more love: people who have more money than others, people who have more influence, more beauty. That's why I didn't believe in love, because I believed it was just another term used to justify capitalistic ideals, a cover for people’s lust and greed. And it's true—some people do use love to get what they want, or they just don't know the difference between love and ambition. My whole life, I thought that I deserved love because I had money, status, and looks. I had the whole package; I was at the top of the social pyramid. That's just how our world works—but again, this is ambition, not real love. Real love is loving someone even when they have nothing. Real love is loving someone for the way they treat you. You can truly love someone for a certain quality about them, and
