Billionaires Broken Wife | ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇᴅ

Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ ０１✓

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FT --> First time

RR --> Re-read

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🔱 A N T O N I A P O V 🔱

I'm jolted awake by the Adhan ringing softly from my phone. Alhamdulillah, there's nothing quite like hearing the call to prayer as the first sound of the day. Every time I listen to it, I remember what my mom once told me: "Antonia, you never know when it'll be your last Adhan." That thought, as sobering as it is, feels like a gift each morning—a reminder to start the day with gratitude.

I slip out of bed, brush my teeth, and perform Wudu. The coolness of the water sharpens my senses, bringing a quiet comfort. Praying Fajr fills me with peace, and afterward, I make my dua, just as Mom taught me. She always says, "You don't need to wait to speak to Allah; you can make dua anytime, anywhere." Those words have been my anchor in the ups and downs of life.

When I open my closet, I take my time choosing an outfit and matching hijab. Yes, matching—the secret superpower of every hijabi! I smile, thinking about how much more than fashion the hijab represents. Wearing it feels like both protection and a statement. Sometimes, I wonder why a simple piece of fabric on my head threatens some people. It's just clothes, after all.

Once dressed, I head downstairs, and the delicious smell of pancakes greets me in the kitchen. Baba is flipping pancakes, brow furrowed with concentration, while Mom hovers nearby, sneaking fruit bites from the table.

"Assalamu'alaikum, Baba!" I say, going over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Wa'alaikum Asalam, Antonia," he replies, smiling warmly as he gives me a one-armed hug, the other hand busy with the spatula. "How did you sleep, my girl?"

"Alhamdulillah, I slept well. And you?" I grab the orange juice and place it on the table, though he's already set everything up.

"Alhamdulillah, good as well." He pours batter onto the pan, each pancake a perfect golden circle.

Mom and Khalid walk in just then, exchanging greetings with me as they settle around the table. As usual, Khalid, my older brother, can't help himself. He reaches over to pinch my cheek with that annoyingly smug smile of his.

"Hey! Mom, tell him to stop," I whine, swatting his hand away.

"Khalid, leave your sister alone!" Mom slaps his arm lightly, and he feigns pain, rubbing his arm with exaggerated offense.

"Alright, alright," he says, throwing me a playful look. "Don't worry, little sis, I won't do it... today."

Baba, always the peacemaker, clears his throat. "Khalid, eat in the name of Allah, then go to work. You're the CEO, so don't be late." His tone leaves no room for argument.

Khalid mumbles something under his breath and digs into his pancakes. I grin. That's what you get for bugging me, big brother. I stick my tongue out at him as he glares back, mouthing that he'll get me later.

As we're finishing up, Baba looks at Mom and says, "Honey, can you take out my suit?"

Mom's brows pinch together, "Your suit? Where are you going?"

Baba smiles at her worried look. "Well, I need to go back to my old factory. They have some problems, so I need to check it out, then call the fix man."

I exchange glances with Khalid, and we both try not to laugh. But when Baba starts talking about calling the "fix man," I can't help it—I burst out laughing, nearly choking on a piece of pancake. Khalid joins in, and we're both struggling to keep straight faces as Baba frowns, looking bewildered.