Kabir's gaze immediately fixed on the bouquet.
He walked over.
“Who is it from?”
The housekeeper looked a little hesitant.
“I’m not sure either, sir. They said it was for Mrs. Kharisma.”
Kabir stared at the red flowers, his expression turning sharp.
He reached out and took the small card tucked among the flowers.
He flipped it over. There were only a few words on it. Kabir read them, and his face instantly hardened.
“Kharis!”
Kabir shouted, his anger boiling all over again after reading the two lines written on the little card.
For my beloved Kharisma
I hope you like the flowers.
From your Secret Admirer.
“Kharisma Putri Atala!” Kabir shouted again.
Kharisma, who had just finished talking to Mohan in the bedroom, jumped when her husband called her by her full name.
She had no idea what was wrong with her husband this time, but whenever he called her by her full name, he was clearly furious with her. The woman hurried to the door, unlocked it, and pressed down on the handle.
“What—”
“Kharis! Since when have you been getting deliveries like this?”
Kabir’s voice exploded again.
He pointed at a large bouquet of flowers sitting on the table. His face had turned red after reading the message card tucked among the arrangement.
Kharisma was startled as soon as she stepped out of the bedroom.
She approached Kabir, a little afraid.
“I don’t know, Babe. I didn’t ask for them.”
Her answer sounded casual because she truly had never asked for the flowers.
But Kabir still looked deeply displeased.
“Don’t your fans know you’re married and have a child?” he asked sharply. “Why do they treat you like you’re still single?”
“Yeah, how would I know, Babe?”
Kharisma was beginning to get annoyed.
“That’s why I want you to make content with me once in a while. So they’ll know I have a husband.”
“You’re awfully good at making excuses.”
Kabir let out a sarcastic chuckle.
“Aren’t you the one who’s always been embarrassed to have a husband so much older than you, huh?”
Kharisma fell silent for a moment.
There was indeed a considerable age gap between them. And the one thing that made Kharisma feel insecure was that her husband wasn’t handsome; his only advantage was that he had been born rich.
“It’s not like that, Babe. I’ve never felt that way.”
She tried to explain—or rather, cover up the truth.
“I also want you to appear in my videos once in a while—”
“No way!”
Kabir cut her off immediately.
He crumpled the message card he had been holding and then slammed it onto the floor.
Kharisma flinched.
Kabir let out a harsh breath.
What husband would be willing to let another man admire his wife?
Maybe some people would consider jealousy like that excessive.
But Kabir was a jealous man.
He didn’t like it when anyone else tried to approach something that was part of his life.
Especially Kharisma.
That woman was his wife.
And in his mind, she always would be.
Kharisma was his.
Forever.
Meanwhile, Kharisma looked back at the bouquet on the table.
It was beautiful.
Truly beautiful.
The flowers had been arranged so artfully that they even looked expensive.
Without realizing it, Kharisma’s gaze softened slightly.
But then her phone suddenly rang.
A notification had come in from the purple app she often used.
Kharisma glanced at the screen.
A message appeared.
[Do you like them?]
Kharisma’s eyes narrowed at once. It was him again. Her expression immediately shifted to annoyance.
Why was that man sending flowers like this again?
Kabir, who noticed the change in his wife’s expression, immediately moved closer.
“Who’s the message from, huh?”
Kharisma hurriedly turned off the screen. “It’s nobody, Babe.”
Kabir furrowed his brow. He didn’t believe her and held out his hand. “Give me the phone.”