Semua Bab A Twist In My Marriage Deal With The CEO : Bab 101 - Bab 110

The three of us sat in tense silence, locked in a staring contest that felt like it stretched for hours. Rola’s eyes were sharp, unwavering, but Bayan—Bayan was different. Her gaze was intense, but there was something playful lurking beneath it, something that made my skin prickle with anticipation. And then, without warning, she broke. A loud, unrestrained laugh burst from her lips, so sudden that I flinched. She threw her head back, shoulders shaking, as if the sheer absurdity of the moment had finally gotten to her. Rola exhaled sharply, rolling her eyes, but I just stared, bewildered. “Oh, Dema,” Bayan managed between giggles, wiping at the corner of her eye. “You know what? After thinking about it—really thinking about it—you’re exactly the kind of person I like.” I blinked. “What?” She leaned back in her chair, the tension draining from her posture as she stretched lazily. “Headstrong. Stubborn. A little too careful.” A smirk tugged at her lips. “Definitely not the type

I shut the door behind me and leaned against it, letting out a slow breath. The house was quiet—too quiet. No Rami, no maids. Just me and my thoughts, swirling like a storm I couldn’t escape. After that meeting, I couldn’t bring myself to go to work. How could I? How could I sit at my desk, pretend everything was normal, when my head was full of Bayan’s words and Rami’s excuses? How can I carry on with my day with all these thoughts swimming in my mind, especially the idea that there's a chance that he's always been a playboy.Bayan’s voice echoed in my mind, sharp and certain. She had no reason to lie about it. And yet… Rami had looked me in the eyes and told me she misunderstood him. That he had feelings for her. That the other girls meant nothing. But did they? Even before I knew about Bayan, before any of this, something about the way Rami acted with other women had always rubbed me the wrong way. The way they laughed a little too loudly at his jokes, The way he was too comf

I wiped my hands on my apron, glancing around the living room one last time. Everything had to be perfect. The cushions were fluffed, the floors spotless, and the scent of lemon polish still lingered in the air. I had spent all morning scrubbing, rearranging, making sure not a single speck of dust dared to show itself. They have to see how well I take care of their son, I thought, smoothing down the fabric of my dress—a modest, elegant one I had picked specifically for today. I wanted to look put-together but not like I was trying too hard. Though, of course, I was trying too hard. The kitchen hummed with activity—the rich aroma of slow-cooked lamb and spices filled the air. I had practiced the recipe three times this week, tweaking the seasoning until it was just right. My mother-in-law was an excellent cook, and I needed her approval. Not just on the food—on everything. I adjusted the vase of fresh flowers on the dining table, then stepped back, second-guessing the arrangement

The two pink lines stare back at me, undeniable. My breath stops. My fingers tighten around the plastic stick, the reality of it crashing into me like a wave. Pregnant. The word echoes in my head, over and over, but it doesn’t feel real yet. I don’t know how long I stand there, frozen, before I finally force myself to move. The door creaks as I open it, my legs unsteady—not just from the dizziness now, but from the weight of what I’m holding. My mother-in-law turns the second I step out, her eyes locking onto the test in my hand. For a heartbeat, there’s silence. Then her face lights up."Oh, Dema!" She rushes forward before I can react, her arms wrapping around me in a tight embrace. "Mabrouk! This is wonderful news!" I stiffen, shocked by the sudden affection. She’s never hugged me like this before—never kissed my cheeks in quick, happy succession the way she’s doing now. Her joy is so bright, so immediate, that it almost knocks me back more than the test itself did. "I—"

The house is too quiet. Too empty. The silence presses against my ears, suffocating me. Rami left this morning without a word—just like last night. No goodbye, no kiss, not even a glance in my direction. It’s like I’ve become invisible to him. I press a hand to my stomach, still flat, still holding our secret. Our baby. But is it ours if he doesn’t want it? My mind races, spiraling into the worst possibilities. What if he’s angry? What if he blames me? What if he— No. I squeeze my eyes shut, but the thought forces its way in anyway. What if he tells me to get rid of it?My throat tightens. I could never. Not unless my life depended on it. But what if that’s what he wants? What if he looks at me with disgust and says, "We’re not ready," or worse—"I don’t want this."The fear twists deeper. What if this is the end? What if he looks at me, during this pregnancy, and decides… he doesn’t want me anymore? Would he ask for a divorce?The word slices through me. Would he really leave