All Chapters of A Twist In My Marriage Deal With The CEO : Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

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

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 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

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 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