Kabir gripped his hair with both hands. Frustrated. Angry. Jealous. And worst of all, afraid of losing the woman he loved most.
Kabir stared blankly at the bedroom door.
“Go ahead and cry...” he murmured softly. “Hopefully, afterward, you’ll be able to think clearly again.”
Regret slowly began to surface as his emotions settled. It was always like this. His temper flared easily whenever Kharisma kept provoking him.
But what husband could stay calm after hearing another man call his wife sweetheart?
Kabir let out a long breath.
Ten minutes later, he finally got to his feet. Kabir intended to return to the bedroom and have a heart-to-heart talk with Kharisma. He didn’t want their argument to drag on.
His hand reached for the doorknob.
“Open up, Kharis. Let’s talk this out.”
There was no answer.
Kabir tried turning the doorknob.
“Damn... it’s locked,” he muttered.
Inside the bedroom, after venting all her anger, irritation, and disappointment at Kabir, Kharisma tried to calm herself down.
She then reached for one of her other phones.
Yes, having a husband who owned a fairly large phone sales-counter business with several branches, including some outside the city, meant Kharisma never had any trouble owning more than one phone.
Kharisma’s gaze shifted to the remains of her new phone lying on the floor. The phone she had only been using for a week had now been destroyed after Kabir smashed it.
It hurt terribly. She had content materials saved on it.
Kharisma rubbed her face roughly.
Honestly, the thing she disliked most about her husband was how easily Kabir lost his temper.
What annoyed her even more was that, a short while after blowing up, Kabir would usually go back to acting sweet as if nothing had happened.
But the hurt in her heart didn’t necessarily disappear right away. Kharisma was still angry. Still disappointed.
She picked up her other phone, then searched for a name in her contacts.
Mohan.
Without thinking too much, Kharisma pressed the call button.
Outside the bedroom, Kabir was still standing in front of the door.
He had actually been about to return to the living room. But he stopped when his ears caught a faint voice coming from inside the bedroom.
The bedroom’s glass window was slightly open, allowing Kharisma’s voice to be heard from outside.
“Mohan, I’m sorry, but I can’t make it. Maybe next time, okay? We’ll meet then. Please apologize to the others for me.”
Kabir froze.
Mohan.
That man again.
His jaw tightened.
Kharisma had even contacted the same man after their argument.
Instead of feeling guilty, his wife had gone right on calling the man who called her sweetheart.
And what made Kabir’s blood boil even more was Kharisma’s tone of voice.
Soft.
It was a tone he rarely heard when his wife spoke to him after they argued.
Mohan’s voice echoed through his mind again.
Sweetheart...
Kabir clenched his fists.
“What kind of friend calls another man’s wife sweetheart?”
His suspicions grew stronger.
He couldn’t simply trust Kharisma’s words.
Kabir had to find out who this man named Mohan was.
Was he really just a friend, as Kharisma had said?
Or was there another relationship his wife had been hiding all this time?
Dark thoughts began filling his mind.
Kabir knew very well that Kharisma was the kind of woman who easily attracted attention.
His wife was still young, beautiful, petite, and had a face that often made people assume she wasn’t married yet. Even people who had just met her might never guess that Kharisma was already a wife and a mother.
“Of course anyone would be interested in her,” Kabir muttered angrily.
“Damn it...”
Before his mind could find an answer, someone’s voice came from the front room.
“Sir, excuse me. There’s a flower delivery for you.”
Kabir immediately turned around.
One of the household assistants stood there holding a huge bouquet of red roses.