ILYAS
I know it is irrational to get jealous over some guy who she mentioned but I really can’t help it. Call me psycho, possessive, a freak of a husband but she is mine.
Mine.
When she called his name—Mustafa—jealousy shot down up my spine and grew in my heart to a painful ache. I wanted my wife beside me, like, right here by my side. And that bothered me because I couldn’t even see her while that dude could be all but putting his filthy gaze on my wife.
“What did she say?” Tariq stepped forward. He saw me seething with anger and his eyes widened. “Is she hurt?”
My jaw clenched. Unclenched. “Who is Mustafa?”
“Uh, I think he works for Baba. Why? Ilyas for God’s sake tell me,” he said, irritated.
I was loosing it. My patience was hanging by a thread that Tariq was snapping with
