The Nobility of a Wounded Heart
After a week of agonizing thought, Abdullah made his decision. He would act according to his own character, not hers. He decided to book three tickets to Jordan. His plan was simple and painfully selfless: he would take her back, divorce her there without revealing the reason, and shoulder the blame and the gossip himself, all to shield the woman he once worshipped and the mother of his children from public shame.
When he returned home, he dropped the bombshell: "Pack everything by Friday. We are going to Jordan."
"Why so suddenly, my Baidah?" she asked with that practiced innocence.
"Just a short vacation," he lied.
"How long should I pack for?"
Abdullah, unable to hide the cracks in his soul, replied, "Take everything you can. You might be staying there for a very long time."
The Confrontation
Rowan sensed the danger. She cornered him, badgering him with questions, performing her role of the "confused, loving wife" with breathtaking audacity. Finally, Abdullah snapped.
"You want to know why? Fine. Give me your phone." He opened the messages and thrust the screen before her eyes. "Look. Read. I wouldn't want to keep lovers apart. The man is suffering, he misses you so much! We're going back so you can return to him."
Rowan's pupils dilated; her breath hitched as if her soul were being torn from her body in a silent scream. In a panic, she began deleting the messages.
"Who is he?" Abdullah roared. "Who is this devoted lover?"
"I don't know," she whispered, trembling. "It's a strange number."
"He knows your name, Rowan. He knows you well."
Abdullah fled the house before his rage could drive him to something irreversible. He did not return until midnight, after the world had gone quiet.
The Nihaya Defense
The next day, Rowan shifted tactics. She moved from panic to the "confident, wronged woman." She challenged him: "How do you know it's a man? You've judged me based on the style of writing. You're being unfair."
"I called the number," Abdullah lied, testing her. "A man answered."
To his shock, Rowan looked him in the eye with absolute certainty. "No, you didn't. Don't lie to me, Abdullah. You didn't call anyone. These are just your delusions."
Abdullah was stunned by her brazenness. Where did this new confidence come from? What new trick had she conjured?
"Then tell me," he sneered, "who is this 'devoted lover'?"
Rowan forced a smile, a transparent attempt at poise. "It was my sister, Nihaya. She was using a strange number just to prank me, to tease me."
The Shattered Glass
Abdullah felt a surge of pure disgust. The audacity to use her sister as a cover for betrayal was a new low.
"Fine. Give me the phone. Let me call this number and verify it's Nihaya."
"I deleted the number and the messages," she replied flatly. "The matter is over."
But it wasn't over. Abdullah didn't believe a word. His mind was set: divorce and distance, but with the dignity of silence. Rowan spent the following days trying to soften the air, trying to reclaim the man she had traded away.
But who can reassemble a shattered sheet of glass? Only someone who can restore the heart of a man who did nothing wrong, yet lost everything.