"I was in my room revising the business and marketing strategies that I had studied in university when I heard a knock on my door. I looked up from my book and notebooks and said, 'Come in.'To my surprise, the one who walked in was Rami. He smiled gently as he entered and said, 'Hey, you look busy. What are you doing?'I smiled back and replied, 'I'm revising. You see, I was hoping you'd allow me to help you a bit. I'm really good at marketing and planning business strategies. I've got so many ideas, and I promise you I won't disappoint you.'He walked over to me, picked up one of my notebooks, scanned my handwriting, then put it down and turned his attention to me. 'Sure,' he said, 'I was actually thinking the same thing. Tomorrow, I'll introduce you to the marketing team. I'll tell the head of the marketing department to give you special training, and then I'll make you a manager. How does that sound?'I jumped up and down in excitement, exclaiming, 'Thank you, thank you, thank you
As I walked into the office that morning, I was filled with a fresh sense of purpose and a new motivation.The last time I was here, I was known as Dema, the CEO's wife. To everyone else, that was my identity, but inside, I felt like a pathetic girl playing the role of the wealthy boss's spouse. My actions were driven by a desperate need to prove my worth to him, to convince him that he needed me by his side and wouldn’t discard me when he was done. I never even dared to consider that he might actually come to like me, let alone fall in love with me.But this morning marked a turning point. For the first time in my life, I woke up free from worries and the haunting remnants of past nightmares.I had breakfast with my husband, who shared his plans for the day. We enjoyed coffee together, and he even asked for my opinion on his outfit and which watch suited him best. He encouraged me to take my time and mentioned that I didn’t have to work the early shift. The old me would have rejected
As I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the hem of my dress, a sense of nervous excitement fluttered in my chest. Tonight was important. I had spent days preparing for this charity event, carefully crafting my speech, making sure every word would leave an impact. Public speaking wasn’t exactly my forte, but I felt ready this time. The speech was heartfelt, personal—something I knew would resonate with the audience.I smoothed my dress one last time, the deep blue fabric falling perfectly against my figure. It was modest yet elegant—appropriate for an event focused on helping those in need. I grabbed my notecards, tucking them neatly into my clutch, and took a deep breath before heading out.The venue was grander than I expected, with twinkling fairy lights lining the entrance and a red carpet rolled out along the way. As I walked inside, my heels clicking softly against the marble floor, I took in the beautifully decorated hall. Everything was perfect—until I caught sight of the
I stood in front of the mirror, watching as my stylist made the final adjustments to my outfit. The deep emerald-green dress hugged my figure perfectly, its silky fabric flowing elegantly down to my ankles. The subtle gold accents on the cuffs and neckline added just the right touch of sophistication. My makeup was flawless—soft, yet striking—and my hair fell in perfect waves over my shoulders. For once, I felt completely in control."Perfect," my stylist said with a satisfied smile, stepping back to admire her work.I took a deep breath. Today, I wasn’t going to let my mother-in-law catch me off guard. The last time she invited me for tea, she had dissected my outfit, my manners, and practically everything else with that sharp, scrutinizing gaze of hers. But today? Today, I was ready.Arriving at her house, I walked into the grand sitting room, my heels clicking softly against the marble floor. She was already seated by the window, sipping tea from one of her impossibly delicate porc
As I stood in front of the mirror, the soft glow of the vanity lights illuminated my reflection. I was in the final stages of getting ready for the commercial event featuring Rami's company, and my heart raced with a mix of excitement and nerves. I carefully adjusted the collar of my blouse, making sure it sat perfectly against my skin. The dress I had chosen was elegant yet professional, a deep navy blue that complemented my complexion. I wanted to make a good impression—not just for myself, but for Rami and his company.Just as I was applying the final touches of makeup, I heard the soft click of the door opening behind me. I turned slightly to see Rami walk in, and my breath caught in my throat. He looked stunning, dressed in a tailored suit that screamed luxury. The fabric glimmered under the lights, and I could tell it was one of those high-end brands that only a select few could afford. His confidence filled the room, and for a moment, I was taken aback by how effortlessly he ca
Today I woke up sick, each time I cough, it feels like my skull is going to split open. I knew I shouldn't have gone into the office yesterday, even though we were short-staffed. Now, I'm paying the price. I squint at my laptop screen, trying to focus on the budget report. It's a blurry mess of numbers. Thank goodness for video conferencing. At least I can supervise the team remotely."Dema, habibti, you look terrible." Tala's voice is soft and concerned. She's holding a steaming mug, the fragrant scent of mint tea wafting towards me. "Here, I made you some tea. It will make you feel better."I manage a weak smile. "Thanks, Tala. You're an angel." I take the mug gratefully, the warmth seeping into my chilled hands. "How's my temperature?"Tala places the back of her hand on my forehead. "Still a little high. You should rest, Dema. Don't worry about work. They can handle it."I know she's right, but I can't help but feel guilty. "I just need to finish reviewing this report..." I trail
The salt spray kissed my face as I stepped out of the car, the scent of the ocean a welcome counterpoint to the nervous flutter in my stomach. Rami's s uncle's beach house was always a scene, a whirlwind of extended family, boisterous laughter, and the inevitable comparisons. I smoothed down the silk of my dress, a masterpiece from a boutique in the city and adjusted the oversized sunglasses perched on my nose. "You look like you're going to the Oscars, not a family barbecue," Rami grumbled, his brow furrowed. I rolled my eyes, a practiced move. "Rami your mother will be there. I can't just show up in jeans and a t-shirt. I have to look the part." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "The part of what? A fashion magazine cover? You're going to feel suffocated in that thing." "And you'd rather I show up looking like I haven't left the house in weeks? Let's be realistic, Rami. Appearances matter. Especially when your mother is around." He knew I was right. Rami's mother, bles
A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I stared out the window. Another gray day, mirroring my mood. It had been days since that awful barbecue party, and the dark cloud hanging over me hadn't budged. My maids, bless their hearts, had tried their best to cheer me up. "They're just jealous, Dema," they said, bustling around me with cups of mint tea and plates of delicate pastries. " They are jealous of your beauty, your style, and your husband's love."It sounded nice, a comforting little fairytale. But I wasn't a fool. I knew the truth and what I'd seen, the thinly veiled insults, the pointed whispers, the way they’d all huddled together, excluding me, their smiles tight and fake. They hadn't been jealous. They'd been… spiteful. And the worst part? My husband's indifference toward the whole situation.I’d tried to tell him, of course. The moment we got home, I’d poured out my heart, the hurt bubbling over. I’d expected comfort, a reassuring hug, maybe even a word or two of reprimand for hi
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
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 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
The car ride to the doctor’s office is quiet, but Rami’s fingers keep tapping against the steering wheel—a nervous habit. I glance at him, amused. "You’re more nervous than I am," I say, resting a hand on his arm. "Relax. It’s just a check-up." He exhales sharply, gripping the wheel tighter. "I know, I know. But I’ve never seen the baby before." I smile, squeezing his arm. "You’ll love it." When we get called in, Rami’s leg won’t stop bouncing as I lie back on the exam table. The doctor spreads the cold gel over my stomach, and Rami leans forward, eyes locked on the screen. Then—there it is. A tiny, flickering heartbeat. A little blur of limbs, curled up safe inside me. "Everything looks perfect," the doctor says, smiling. I was relieved. I was worried because I haven't been sleeping well lately so I thought it might affect the baby. But when I turn to Rami, his eyes are glistening. His lips press together, trembling, and then—tears. Actual tears rolling down his face.
The mall was buzzing with energy, the kind that usually overwhelmed me, but today, it felt different. Today, every pastel-colored onesie, every tiny pair of socks, every frilly little dress made my heart swell. I’m having a girl. The thought still sent shivers of joy down my spine. Dalia held up a miniature sunhat with a giggle. “Look at this! She’s going to be the most stylish baby in the city.” Tala, ever the practical one, nudged me toward a rack of soft cotton bodysuits. “You need basics too, habibti. She’ll live in these.” I ran my fingers over the tiny fabric, imagining my daughter—my daughter*—wearing them. It still didn’t feel real. After everything, after all the fear and uncertainty, here I was, surrounded by love, preparing for her. “We should start planning the baby shower,” Dalia said, already scrolling through her phone. “Think pink and gold? Or more floral?” I laughed, shaking my head. “As long as there’s good food, I don’t care.” Tala smirked. “Spoken like
Four months have passed, and the nursery is almost ready—soft yellow walls, tiny clothes folded neatly in the drawers, and a bassinet waiting for our little one. Rami and I sit on the couch, a baby name book spread across my lap. His arm is draped over my shoulder, his fingers absently tracing circles on my skin. "Malik is strong," he says, pointing at the name. "But Leen… that’s beautiful too." I smile, leaning into him. "We still have time to decide, besides, we don't know whether it's a boy or a girl." He sighs, shifting slightly. "Dema… I’ve been thinking." His voice is quieter now, serious. "I want to make more time for you. For the baby. I’ve been spending time at work too much during our marriage, and I stay out too late… that's going to change now." My chest tightens—hope, relief, disbelief all tangled together. "That’s… great news, Rami." He turns to me, eyes earnest. "I mean it. I promise—I’m going to be a good husband. A good father." The words are sweet, but I’
The weekend had been slow and lazy until Rami, out of nowhere, decided to be a good husband—his words, not mine—and announced we were going out. No warning, just that smirk of his, the one that always makes my stomach flip. “A museum?” I raised an eyebrow as we walked through the grand entrance, the cool air brushing against my skin. “Since when do you plan dates?” He shrugged, all casual confidence. “Since I realized my wife deserves more than just my charming presence on the couch.” I rolled my eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at my lips. Then—of course—Rami had to show off. The moment we stepped into the history exhibit, he transformed into a walking encyclopedia, pointing at artifacts like he’d personally excavated them. His voice dropped into that lecture tone, the one he uses when he’s trying to sound scholarly but can’t hide the excitement underneath. “See this?” He gestured to an ancient tablet, his fingers barely grazing the glass. “This is from the Neo-Ass
The invitation was sent to me this morning. Family dinner at Auntie’s. I picked it up, my fingers tightening around the edge. Rami’s aunt was hosting—again—this time to celebrate her husband’s return from Haj. A noble reason, sure. But I knew better. Family gatherings were never just gatherings. They were battlegrounds disguised in elaborate dishes and sweetened with dessert. The aunties would be there, perched on the sofas like judges, their eyes sharp, their tongues sharper. And now? Now that I was pregnant? Oh, they wouldn’t spare me. I sighed, pressing a hand to my stomach. You have no idea what you’re in for, my little one. Rami walked in, grinning. "Auntie called. She’s making your favorite maqluba." I shot him a look. "She’s buttering me up. That means she’s planning something." He laughed, kissing my forehead. "You’re paranoid. It’s just dinner." Just dinner! Famous last words. The moment we stepped into Auntie’s house, the assault began. "Dema, habibti! Look a
I took a deep breath, trying to push away all the stress, all the noise in my head. Right now, the only thing that mattered was the little life growing inside me. My baby. My fingers brushed over my stomach, still flat, still unchanged—but I knew. In there, something precious was beginning. My mother-in-law had insisted on taking me to the doctor today. She fussed over me like I was made of glass, her grip firm on my arm as we walked into the clinic. The doctor was kind, reassuring. "She's four weeks along. Good health. No problems so far." The words should have comforted me, and they did—mostly. But there was still that tiny, nagging fear, the one I refused to let take root. "Just keep coming for check-ups," the doctor had said. "Everything looks fine but we need to keep an eye on her."On the way home, my mother-in-law turned to me with that smile—the one that wasn’t really a request. "I’d love to have you over for lunch,"she said. "I’ll cook something special for you and the b