Amira stirred awake to the scent of freshly brewed coffee and something sweet wafting through the air. For a moment, she simply lay there, cocooned in soft sheets, her limbs tangled with Idris's. His arm remained draped over her waist, his breathing steady and warm against the back of her neck.
She shifted slightly, and his grip tightened instinctively.
"Where do you think you're going?" he murmured, his morning voice gravelly and rich.
She smiled. "To see what that heavenly smell is."
"You'll have to get past me first," he said, tightening his hold playfully.
She twisted in his arms and faced him, brushing a finger down the slope of his nose. "You're unusually clingy this morning, Mr. CEO."
"I'm trying to enjoy the last few minutes before your phone rings and the world tries to steal you away again."
"I could say the same for you."
He sighed. "Point taken. But today, I want us to take it slow."
She blinked. "You? Taking it slow?"
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yes. Starting now."
He leaned in, kissing her softly, deeply, like he had all the time in the world. Amira melted into the warmth of his mouth, her fingers curling into the cotton of his shirt. The kiss lingered, unhurried, and when they finally pulled apart, both were breathless.
"That… was a very good start," she said, cheeks flushed.
"Good. Because I made breakfast too."
"You? In the kitchen?" she laughed.
He smirked. "With supervision. Your favorite pancakes, almond syrup, and fresh strawberries. Don't get used to it—I nearly set the kitchen on fire."
She raised a brow, impressed. "Now that's love."
They got dressed and headed downstairs, the air in the house light and almost unfamiliar. The tension that once shadowed the corners of every room had been replaced with a sense of ease neither of them had expected to find.
The dining room table had been set beautifully. A tall vase of tulips stood at the center, and the aroma of warm pancakes and caramelized butter filled the air.
Amira gasped softly. "Did you do all this?"
Idris gave a sheepish grin. "With a little help from Layla. She was very clear about how not to ruin her kitchen."
Amira walked to the table, running her fingers over the polished surface and then lifting a strawberry. "I'm seriously impressed."
"Good," he said, pulling out a chair for her. "Because I'm not just wooing you. I'm learning how to show up."
They sat, and for a while, ate in comfortable silence. Amira stole glances at him, wondering how long this version of Idris would last. The vulnerable one. The one who actually paused long enough to make pancakes and listen.
"What are you thinking?" he asked, catching her gaze.
"That I like you like this."
His expression softened. "Like this?"
"Relaxed. Real. Not hiding behind the CEO armor."
"I'll still have to wear it sometimes."
"I know," she said, reaching across the table. "Just don't forget to take it off when you're with me."
He squeezed her hand. "I won't."
Just then, her phone buzzed on the counter. She sighed. "Reality calling."
He grabbed it and handed it to her. "Ignore it."
She glanced at the screen. It was Zara.
"I have to take this," she said, kissing his cheek quickly before answering. "Hey, Zara."
"Girl, are you watching the internet? Because your man just broke the internet with that boardroom speech yesterday. There are hashtags. Hashtags!"
Amira laughed. "I haven't even checked yet."
"Well, you should. Because apparently Idris Khalid is now 'Husband Goals' and 'Soft CEO.' I swear, the fan edits are wild. There's even a slow-motion version of him saying your name."
She blinked. "Seriously?"
"I'm telling you, people are obsessed. It's like watching a real-life K-drama. Except the female lead is actually winning."
Amira glanced at Idris, who was now sipping coffee and pretending not to listen.
"I'll check it out later," she said, smiling.
"You better. Oh, and one more thing. I got a message from one of the producers at CityTalk. They want to feature you. Just you. No Idris. They're calling it a segment on 'Women Behind Power.'"
Amira sat up straighter. "Me? Why?"
"Because you're brilliant, that's why. You've been behind the scenes, working on real campaigns. You're not just the CEO's wife."
She bit her lip. "I'll think about it."
"Don't overthink it. Just say yes. You've earned this."
After hanging up, she looked at Idris. "CityTalk wants to interview me."
"Then say yes."
"You're not worried they'll drag your name through it?"
"I trust you to represent yourself. And us. Besides, it's time people heard your story too."
Something settled in her chest. Confidence. Permission. Support.
That afternoon, Amira stood in front of her mirror, trying on different outfits for the interview. Idris stood nearby, arms crossed, watching her with a mixture of admiration and amusement.
"You're acting like this is your first big event," he teased.
"It feels different. Before, I was the woman who worked quietly behind closed doors. Now, I'm… someone people are watching."
"You always were someone worth watching."
She looked at him through the mirror. "Don't make me cry and ruin this makeup."
He walked over and gently adjusted the sleeve of her blouse. "Then let me say one thing before you go: no matter what the world sees, I see you. The woman who stood by me when I didn't deserve it. The woman who challenges me to be better."
Her breath caught.
"And after today, they'll see what I've always known—you were never behind me. You were beside me, leading."
She hugged him tightly. "Thank you."
When she arrived at the studio later, the nerves hit her all at once. Lights. Cameras. A full crew. But as she took her seat across from the host and the questions began, something clicked.
She spoke of her journey, her career, her values. She didn't mention Idris until asked. And when she did, it was with measured grace and quiet pride—not as a woman riding on someone's reputation, but as someone who had found a partner who finally saw her light.
By the end of the interview, the host leaned forward.
"You're not just a CEO's wife. You're a force of your own."
Amira smiled. "I like to think so."
When she stepped outside the studio, Idris was waiting by the car. He opened the door for her, pride glowing in his eyes.
"You watched?" she asked, sliding in.
"Every second," he said. "You were brilliant."
She leaned her head against the window as the car pulled away. "It felt good. To be seen."
"You're not just seen, Amira. You're unforgettable."
And for the first time in a long time, she believed it too.