The clink of my keys hitting the ceramic dish on the hallway table felt louder than it should have. I was exhausted, the kind of bone-deep tired that seeps into your thoughts, making them sluggish. Rami was a few steps behind me, his phone already pressed to his ear. I heard the murmur of his voice, a low, familiar rumble that usually brought me comfort. Tonight, though, it felt like a distant echo.
I walked into the living room, kicking off my heels and sinking into the sofa. The soft fabric swallowed my tired limbs, and I closed my eyes for a moment, just a moment, to enjoy the quiet.
"Yeah, habibti, of course," Rami said, his voice clearer now. I frowned, opening my eyes. Habibti? He rarely used that endearment, not on the phone anyway. I strained my ears, trying to decipher the rest
