The hum of the engine filled the car as we drove home, the city lights blurring past the windows. Rami’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his eyes flickering the way it does when he’s deep in thought. I could feel the tension in the air, heavy and unspoken, and I knew I had to ask. I had to know.
“Rami,” I began, my voice softer than I intended, “what happened between you and Bayan? Why is she doing this?”
He didn’t answer right away. His eyes stayed fixed on the road, but I could see the way his shoulders tensed, the way his knuckles whitened around the wheel. Finally, he let out a slow breath, as if he’d been holding it in for months.
“Months ago,” he started, his voice low, “Bayan showed up at my office out of nowhere. I was… surprised. I hadn’t seen her in years, and I thou
