Chapter 1 - Rameesha

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Chapter 1

Salam, Hi, Hello, Hola, Aloha, Sasriakal, etc. Here's the first chapter.

"For the love of God, Faisal," a five-foot three-inch woman exclaimed in frustration, "I won't let you get a second wife!"

Rameesha was ready to rip her hair out of her head from the same fight they had been having for months; Faisal wanted to get married again, and she bluntly refused him. What did she lack that he wanted to get a second wife? They had been married for more than two years, and Rameesha finally had a stable job that gave them enough leftover money at the end of the month after all the expenses. Faisal barely had to work; they were finally settling down properly.

She voiced her question.

"Seriously, why do you want to get a second wife? What don't I have that you want to get from another woman?" she asked him.

Rameesha was leaning against the dressing table, her hands crossed below her chest with a brush dangling in her hand. She was so tempted to throw it at him to try to knock some sense in him.

Faisal was sitting across from Rameesha on the edge of the bed. Instead of facing her, his face was down as he angrily took off his socks and threw it randomly. He mumbled some curses before looking up to answer.

"Kids, Rameesha, kids," he finally snapped, his eyes sent deadly glares at Rameesha. "You can't give me kids." At his response Rameesha groaned out loud.

"How dense can you get? The doctor said I need time to heal." Their voices were getting louder and Rameesha's heart started beating faster. She glanced at the door in the hope that their landlord wouldn't come up because of how loud they were getting.

"It's been a fucking year already, Rameesha! How much more time do you need? The doctor also said that there was a chance that you might not be able to have kids after you healed, and I don't wanna take that chance."

Faisal was standing by now, and Rameesha wanted to create as much distance between them as possible, but her back was already against the dressing table. All the blood rushed to her head, and she felt her whole body begin to shake. The feeling of anger and fear both filled Rameesha.

"These are your mother's words, aren't they?" she dared to ask. "I know you well enough to know when what you're saying are your own words and when they are your mother's." She slammed the brush on the dressing table and pointed the finger at herself. "You're living with me now, Faisal. You're my husband, and you need to start talking to me and give me more importance. You can't constantly take everything from that mother of yours and start a fight with me."

Before Rameesha knew it, Faisal was in front of her; he took a fistful of her hair in his hand and pulled her head back hard. A scream left her mouth in pain and instinctively her hand went to his hand, trying to pry her thick hair out of his hand.

"Faisal," she screeched his name, "let go of my hair."

"Don't you ever dare talk about Ammi like that ever again. She's my mother and she will always be above you," he hissed a low voice. Rameesha felt another hard tug on my hair and she shut her eyes again as she let out another scream.

"I want to have a kid and I won't let your stupid stubbornness get in the way of that."

"You should have thought of that before! If it wasn't for you, we would have had our own child right now. It's all your fault, Faisal. Yours and yours only. Now face the damn consequences and don't blame me for it!" she yelled, giving him the best glare she could best muster.

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