---
Zainab didn't eat.
Didn't cry.
Didn't sleep.
She just stared at the bedroom wall, her mind replaying Lana's words over and over:
"You didn't really think this was your story, did you?"
The worst part?
Yusuf didn't deny it.
Didn't even explain.
---
By evening, he knocked on the door.
"Zainab, open up."
She said nothing.
"It's not what you think."
Still nothing.
Then she replied, voice cold:
"She's pregnant. That's all I need to think."
The silence that followed confirmed everything she feared.
---
The next morning, Zainab walked into the dining room, head high, face flawless, dressed like power itself. Yusuf was there—waiting.
"We need to talk."
"We should've talked a long time ago," she replied, sitting across from him.
"But you never respected me enough to try."
He sighed. "I didn't know about the pregnancy. Lana's using it to manipulate me. I haven't touched her since before our wedding."
Zainab looked at him.
"But you didn't defend me. You didn't protect me."
He lowered his eyes.
She stood, pushing back her chair.
"I gave you my body. I was starting to give you my heart. But now… I'm taking it all back."
---
That night, she moved back into her room.
No more shared bed.
No more soft kisses in the dark.
But something had awakened inside her.
Fire. Anger. Strength.
She reached for her laptop and opened a blank document.
Title: "The Real Wife"
She started writing—her truth, her pain, her rage. Every word was a weapon.
If Yusuf thought she was just a contract wife, he was about to learn:
Zainab was done playing soft.
---