Short Notes:
1- It's a true story.
2- Names changed to be easy for readers instead of Arabic names that aren't common.
3- The story contains customs and traditions that may not be similar to your society.
In 2013, in a small city in the Arabian country where I grew up.
I was 23 years old when I got married--a traditional marriage based on matching a faithful wife and wearing decent clothes.
I don't mean bedouin clothing or all black, but to hide her physical beauty, and love comes with time.
I want to create a decent family with a faithful wife, and I have it.
My name is Sami. I work as a pastry baker in a traditional restaurant with an average monthly salary.
My wife, Becky, was 22 years old when we got married.
However, I graduated from a university of education, and I had no opportunities to work in my specialty because of social factors and favoritism.
Anyway, after one year of marriage, we didn't have children until we found out my wife was childless.
I was pressured by my father to marry another woman.
As you know, a man is allowed to marry four wives, but I refused. I know that would hurt my wife, Becky, but that isn't her guilt; I believe in destiny.
After one and a half years of marriage, the economic conditions worsened due to increasing prices, and I looked for an additional job to fill the deficit.
So, my friend Andrew helped me get a job as a tracker for a construction plant; it's an underpaid job. Andrew told me the boss is stingy, but I have no choice.
Andrew is a year younger than me; he is an engineer and gets a big salary. Working with a friend I had known for four years was embarrassing to me because of the significant difference in positions, but that's life.
The two jobs take 17 hours a day; I sit with my wife for one or two hours; sometimes, I return from work to find her asleep. My life was getting worse and more boring, which affected Becky's life, too; she felt lonely, but I had nothing to do.
I noticed that she was spending her time texting a lot; that doesn't bother me, but the texting time increased more and more, which prompted my curiosity to know who she was texting. Along the way, I checked her phone when she was sleeping, busy with housework, or doing anything else.
I waited till she went to sleep, and lightly, I picked up her phone. I walked out on my toes for not waking her up and went to the bedroom.
Becky made a draw lock. It's not new, but I waited for any background message. I saw a background message saying, "Baby, You Are So Hot."
I glanced at the name, but she saved him with a fake name. 'The Gecko.'
I didn't know what to do then; should I wake her up and strike her?
No, I believe in rational solutions; violence doesn't do good.
In our society, a woman doesn't discourse or text permanently with any of the men except for the utmost necessity, such as work; she must be firm and avoid noticeable teasing in public.
Not to mention modesty, loose dress, and conservative handling.
These are not laws, but community habits. So, it differs in relative terms from one governorate to another or from one city to another.
Therefore, alcohol is allowed everywhere, and prostitution exists in some places.
I mean, you can do anything, but society's perception is different.
Men are also socially restricted, not just women, but marital infidelity brings more shame to men and touches their honor.
Without further ado, the woman here is treated like a precious jewel, is untouchable, and has greater privacy.
Let's get back to the story. After deep thinking, I acted as usual and told her that these things bothered me and she must give them up.
That's what happened the next day; her reaction was to keep quiet and feel guilty.
The days passed, and I dealt with her as if nothing had happened, but with some control.
One day, I came home from work and went to the master bedroom and found her sleeping, the phone in her numbed hand; she seemed to have fallen asleep. I took the phone and walked out to find two messages. "Are you there, honey?
"Ummm, OK, happy dreams, my lovely girl, 'kiss emoji.
I had a meltdown and laid on the bed, but I couldn't sleep.
My brain kept overthinking, surrounded by problems, my stressful jobs, and my wife's immoral behaviors.
I felt overwhelmed and didn't know where to solve my problems.
I kept awake until the morning; as she woke up, walking her way to the bathroom, she looked me in the eyes and noticed my angry feelings.
"Look, if you keep doing this crap again, you will suffer unpleasant consequences," I shouted, then reached out to the master bedroom to get dressed for work.
Becky tried to talk, but I didn't listen and left the house.
It was clear to co-workers and the boss in the restaurant that there was something wrong with me, and it was apparent too in my second job in the factory; after finishing a sand transfer trip, I frustratingly sat against the wall with my head in my hands on the floor.
Andrew tried to find out: "Man, what's wrong with you?
"Nothing," I sighed. "It's just some fatigue."
"Ummm, I hope you get better. If you want any help, don't hesitate." Andrew walked away to continue the work with the craftsmen.
********************
As the days passed, I caught a lot of messages on Becky's phone from many men with fake names, but this time, the talks carried sexual connotations.
I was pissed off; I tried every possible means to stop this unblushing stuff. I tried the advice, guidance, and beating, but nothing new.
All I knew was that those scoundrels were communicating with her; she knew them through social media, but there were more hidden things I did not know.
They are from other provinces; this is the only thing that made me deal calmly; the fear of society and people's perceptions are significant.
It is a shame to walk down the street and find some people looking at you like idiots.
I thought about viable solutions: "What's wrong with me? Am I an unfit husband?"
But I am emotionally and sexually good; maybe the financial situation is a little awkward, but many families suffer from this condition.
Maybe the two jobs that take up all my time are essential factors.
I asked myself, "There are many decisive solutions, such as divorce, but can I live single in the 26?
For the record, a divorced man here couldn't marry again quickly, and doubts will be raised around him, especially when people know he has no children besides the new bride.
It's clear that any wife needs a husband to be around her, not a husband working day and night to make a living; that's noble work, but it doesn't work with women in general.
After several weeks of hard thinking, I decided to let things run their course and leave her alone. I acted like a stranger until I set my next plan.
***********************
I believe that every woman should live a happy life with a good man.
Becky has no children, and she lives substantially without a husband.
I'm out of the house all day, and then I go back to sleep with physical and mental fatigue, so I cannot blame her; she is human. On the other hand, texting strangers in this dirty way is rejected.
Therefore, I decided to give her what she wanted: someone who would be just a friend, chatting with him as she wanted under the principle of friendship, and, more importantly, someone I knew significantly and trusted indefinitely.
