Sorry for errors I hope the chapter is enjoyable for you all. Happy Eid Mubarak. May Allah accept our prayers and fasts and pardon our transgressions.ameen.
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Life is short, so talk to each other and put aside your differences.
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Whole two weeks, We didn't even talk properly, in fact since our wedding night,  we ate together, barely talked and it hurt me and guilt was eating me alive. He was hurting himself by overworking.

Now that we were in our room, he was occupied with his work and the laptop on his desk. He had a furrowed brow and was typing erratically.

"It is Umar," I said softly, unable to look him in the eyes, but at least there was something instead of nothing. I went over to sit beside him. PRIDE will not get us anywhere, and one of us must initiate the conversation.

I looked at his handsome face, which lacked both a smile and playfulness.
I saw pain in his eyes, and his silence hurt me even more.

"Say something," I said, but he was already checking his emails.

"I told you about my ex, and I did not even ask you who the guy was," he said in a tone that suggested he was upset. I never felt compelled to tell him the truth—I never forced him to guess it, knew it, or noticed the guy's missed calls and messages.

"Dinner is ready."I tried to relieve the tension in the room, but he did not even ask me about Umar.

"I am not hungry," he replied, finally shutting down the laptop.

"Fine, I am not hungry either," I said, sitting on the bed next to him.

None of us spoke.

"Please eat something," I told him, concerned about his health; he had fainted the last time and does not care. I know he cares, even though I deserve a cold shoulder.

He muttered something along the lines of "Stubborn woman" and made his way to the dining room.

I sighed with relief and grinned.

I made him his favorite dish, biryani! I waited for him to taste as I served him.

"Are you not going to eat?" His question surprised me, and I wondered where the guy who had just gotten mad at me was.

"He is just, well, let us say he just apologised and wanted a second chance, besides, I am your wife and yours alone."He seemed a little at ease, so I broke the silence.

He simply responded in a different way, "I know."

He claimed to know better than to say, "I do not like him. Imagine all of a sudden someone shows you, a picture of your wife and some random guy."

"I am sorry," I said in regret.

"Aside from the fact that he is my non-Mahram, I will not speak to or see him again if you do not like him (someone not allowed to interact with).

"That is like my wife," he said, kissing my forehead and giving me a genuine smile, the one I would been hoping to see on his face.

"Thank you for understanding me," he said with a wide smile, and I moved closer to him. I had not spent much time with him in the last two weeks because he was so busy.

"I am glad you told me everything; at least no one will try to create misunderstandings, and we need to have a strong bond, do not we?" He asked, and I wiped a tear, thinking, how lucky am I? People judge him based on his professional life, even though he is an understanding husband.

I am glad I only get to see this side of him.

"What are you thinking?" Just some instances in which you were Mr Rude and Mr Jerk.

After realizing what I had said, I quickly closed my mouth and looked down, embarrassed.

"Were these my nicknames?" He said with a smirk, and I simply looked down.

"Mhh now I want you to call me by my name," he said playfully, knowing that I never say his name in front of him.

"Let us sleep, we have to be at the office tomorrow," I tried to distract him later by responding to my brother Imad and parents.

"I am not going tomorrow," he said, and my eyes widened. The great Khalid refuses to go to work. Was I having a hearing problem? The guy barely misses.

"What is tomorrow?"I questioned him, but he simply shrugged his shoulders and went to wash his plate. Damn! My husband was full of surprises today.

"That is a surprise for you," he replied, and I washed my plate. We then sat on the couch while he read business news.

"Please tell me," I asked again, but he chose to ignore me. He was ignoring me, his wife.

"Let us pray, Isha, and then sleep," he offered me, his hand standing up, and my eyes widened. I could not believe it.

Was this the real Khalid? I grinned.

"Yes, that is me," he replied, and I simply grinned and shook my head.

His face went pale and his body language changed as he unlocked his phone. He was now stiff.

In an extremely harsh and coarse voice, he answered the phone.

"I want you to stay away from our lives, please do not call me again," he said, tossing the phone onto the couch and sitting down, his head resting in his hands. I could not help but wonder who had called him.

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Any comments? who called him?

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