The Secret Life of My Husband, The Professor ✔️

29| Notes From Your Husband

Wahaj's POV

I awoke the next morning and reached around for my phone. It was 5 am now, and my alarm for Fajer has wakened me up.

I looked toward the sofa to find that the professor wasn't there. I went toward the bathroom to complete my wudu to pray.

After I finished praying and reciting Surah Kahaf, I went back to sleep. When I awoke, I knew that the professor had left already — because there was a blanket on me that he placed.

The gesture warmed my heart. I stood up after checking my messages and going into social media. I walked toward the left of the bed, which consisted of a sitting area that centred a grand fireplace. The bear rug that was placed in front of it gave the room a woodsy feel. Alhamdulillah, it didn't have a face.

I was shocked to find another surprise from the professor. There was breakfast placed neatly on the coffee table. It consisted of eggs, pancakes and a glass of orange juice.

Next to the orange juice was a single rose with a note.

Try to dress comfortably. I will talk to my family, and we will articulate at noon. Don't leave the room. Feel free to shower in our room. I have placed toiletries in the adjoining bathroom. – your husband.

I opened what I assumed was the bathroom from last night, but it was the closet. Rows of Armani, Gucci, and Prada hit me with full force. For what his wardrobe was probably worth, I would have been able to live without debt for at least ten years.

I backed out of the closet and looked over to the other side of the room, where there was another door. Inside I walked into the bathroom.

The bathroom consisted of two sinks, a swimming pool for a bathtub and a huge walk-in shower. On the container, I found another note from the professor.

I placed all of your items on the left side of the sink. Don't move them to my side. I also ordered a bunch of clothes for you; the maid will take them to you shortly before noon. you will see a variety of dresses for you to choose from as well as undergarments, shoes and accessories. – your husband.

After I showered, got ready, prayed Dhur, and picked my hijab, I found the clothes he meant sitting beside the door and took them and wore them.

Just when I was about to sit in the bed, he came in.

"Take these" He ordered.

I backed away from him as quickly as I could. "what are those ?" I asked.

His eyes looked at me up and down. "You look appropriate. and these are vitamins they are good for you, and they won't work oblique with your other medication." I took the pills he offered.

Not a minute later, I found myself walking beside him and proceeded downstairs. "Good morning, oğlum," His mother said before she kissed his cheeks.

There was no doubt from Ahmad glare at his mother that The professor was his mother's favourite. I looked in the living room to find only Ahmad and his mother was there.

"Good morning," I spoke nervously as she glanced at me and ignored me.

She seemed not to want to admit that I was alive or breathing the same air as her. She proceeded to make the professor sit beside her on the couch, and I remained standing. Ahmad gestured for me to sit in the one seat couch beside him and I did.

"Breath," Ahmad advised before chuckling.

I looked at him; my eyes widened, "Is it obvious?"

He nodded, "A little, but trust me now that Ibrahim is beside her, she won't notice your existence,"

I remind silent as I glimpsed at the professor gesturing for his mother to talk and just like that she did, "Wahaj, did you sleep well ?" She spoke with venom in her voice.

I nodded.

If looks could kill, I would have been dead 99 times by her. "Mother, you know Wahaj cooks amazingly," The professor said interrupting the silent atmosphere.

Ohh another memory I forgot, he knows I cook. Great!

"Oh?" She looked at him, "Better than the chef we assigned from a top restaurant in Italy ?"

Strangely he said, "Oh yes."

"Since my husband took the kids out, Mrs.Yilmaz you should cook dinner for us then!" She said, addressing me as I shot daggers toward the professor. This is the second time someone called me Mrs.Yilmaz, and it still feels weird.

I hated cooking. My aunts would make me cook for them as a punishment. And I felt even if I told Gordon Ramsay to prepare the feast, she would still find something wrong with it.

"She would love to" The professor replied instead of me.

"Dilara," She yelled to who I presume was the maid, "Show her the kitchen" She ordered as I nodded to Dilara with a smile before she smiled back.

I didn't say anything to the professor. Instead, I brushed right by him and into the kitchen.