Semua Bab A Twist In My Marriage Deal With The CEO : Bab 161 - Bab 170

I had to talk to Rami. This doubt of his, this fear that I was going to leave him, it didn’t make sense. Where did it even come from? Our marriage wasn’t perfect, but I had decided long ago that this was my family, my home. I wasn’t going anywhere. So why did he think otherwise? I needed answers. Had someone said something to him? Had he seen something, misinterpreted some stray glance or conversation? The uncertainty gnawed at me. If there was a misunderstanding, I had to fix it before it festered. So I cooked his favorite meal spiced lamb with saffron rice, the way his mother used to make it. The familiar rhythms of chopping, stirring, and seasoning calmed me, but my mind kept circling back to the same question: Why does he think I’d leave?The table was set, the food warm. I sat, waiting, my fingers tapping lightly against the wood. The house was quiet except for the sound of the refrigerator and the distant sound of traffic outside. Every creak made my breath catch, thinking

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my hands like they hold some kind of answer. But they don’t. Nothing makes sense anymore. The silence in the house is suffocating, pressing down on me until I can barely breathe. How did we get here? Rami won’t even look at me. Every time I try to speak, his face darkens, his eyes turn hollow, and I see it,the doubt, the hurt, the anger. He thinks I betrayed him. And no matter how many times I say it’s not true, he doesn’t believe me. I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting back tears. What else can I do? I’ve tried explaining, pleading, even begging. But the more I push, the further he pulls away. The thought of losing him, sends a sharp pain through my chest. I can’t let this be the end. There has to be a way to fix this. Therapy. The word flickers in my mind. Maybe if we had someone to help us talk, to make him see… But would he even agree? The Rami I knew would’ve listened, would’ve fought for us. But this Rami? This version of him, hardene

The weight of the rumors pressed on my chest like a stone as Rami and I stepped out of the lawyer’s office. The air outside was thick with tension, or maybe that was just my own unease settling in. Talk to the employees first, the lawyer had said. It made sense, confront the problem at its root before it spiraled further. Rami's eyes were calm, his usual calm demeanor was back. "We need to call them in now," he said, voice low. "Before this spreads any further." I nodded, my fingers tightening around my phone. One message to the marketing team, marked urgent, and the meeting was set. The replies came quickly, confused, and curious. None of them knew what was coming. Which was good. I'll let them feel the gravity of this. The conference room was too bright when we walked in, the glass walls exposing us, making me feel like we were the ones under scrutiny. The team filed in, murmurs fading as they took their seats. I could see it in their eyes, the sideways glances, the tension in

The suitcases were lined up by the door, packed and ready. Our baby girl giggled in my arms as I double-checked the list, diapers, bottles, her favorite stuffed bunny. Rami had promised us this getaway for months, just the three of us, no distractions. Finally, time to breathe. Then his phone buzzed. I saw the way his shoulders tensed when he read the message. "I have to go to my parents’ house," he said, kissing my forehead. "Family meeting. It won’t take long."I nodded, though something in his voice made my stomach twist. "Okay," I said, forcing a smile. "Hurry back." Five hours. That’s how long I waited. The sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the living room. Our daughter had fallen asleep in her crib, the vacation clothes I’d laid out for her still untouched. When the door finally opened, Rami looked… hollow. His usual warmth was gone, replaced by a stiffness I hadn’t seen since the early days of our marriage, when his family’s expectations weighed heavier on him

The kitchen is warm, the scent of garlic and cumin curling through the air as I stir the pot, lost in my thoughts. The baby monitor on the counter hums softly, our little one is napping, but she’ll wake soon, always restless unless Rami is home. And then, the front door slams. I don’t even need to turn around to know it’s him, or to know he’s upset. Rami has a way of filling a room with his moods, when he’s happy, the whole house feels lighter, but when he’s angry, the air turns thick and charged. I set the wooden spoon down and wipe my hands on my apron before turning to face him. He looks tense his shoulders tense, and his eyes dark, stormy, it tells me everything before he even speaks. “What’s wrong?” I ask, keeping my voice soft. He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I told my father no.” I don’t need him to explain. I already know. The money. The politics. The endless, exhausting game his family plays. Rami paces, his words spilling out in a frustrated