Threw Her Out Pregnant, Her Brothers Brought Her Back

Rahma’s POV

Three years.

Three whole years of being Mrs. Carlson, yet somehow, I still felt like a stranger in this house.

I stood in front of the long dining table, arranging the flowers Vanessa had ordered me to change for the third time that afternoon.

“No, Rahma. Those look cheap.”

That was what she had said twenty minutes ago.

Cheap.

The flowers had cost more than what some people earned in a month, but apparently, they were not good enough for Vanessa Carlson.

Nothing I did was ever good enough for this family.

I adjusted one of the white roses and stepped back.

“Rahma!”

I closed my eyes for one second when I heard Vanessa shouting my name from the hallway.

Of course.

What now?

I quickly wiped my hands against my dress before walking out of the dining room.

Vanessa was standing at the foot of the staircase with her arms crossed.

She looked beautiful, as always.

Her dark hair was perfectly curled, and she wore a cream dress that probably cost thousands of dollars.

“There you are,” she said. “I’ve been calling you.”

“I was arranging the flowers.”

She looked toward the dining room.

“Did you change them?”

“Yes.”

“What about the guest towels upstairs?”

I blinked.

“The guest towels?”

“Yes, Rahma. The investors will be arriving soon. Make sure fresh ones are placed in every guest bathroom.”

I looked past her.

Two housekeepers were standing nearby.

Either one of them could have done it.

Actually, it was their job to do it.

Vanessa knew that.

But she liked giving me orders.

She enjoyed reminding me that even though I was married to her brother, she still considered me beneath her.

“Okay,” I said quietly.

Her lips curved slightly.

“Good.”

I turned away before she could see the pain on my face.

I hated this.

I hated being ordered around in my own home.

But I hated fighting even more.

Whenever I defended myself, Margaret would accuse me of trying to destroy the peace in the family.

Whenever I told Jeff about it, he would sigh and tell me Vanessa was immature.

So I learned to stay quiet.

It was easier.

At least that was what I kept telling myself.

I loved Jeff.

That was why I stayed.

That was why I swallowed every insult.

That was why I continued waking up every morning and pretending I belonged here.

Jeff and I had met four years ago.

Back then, he was already wealthy, already powerful, already known everywhere as Jeff Carlson, heir to Carlson Group.

But with me, he had simply been Jeff.

The man who bought me coffee because I was having a terrible day.

The man who listened when I talked.

The man who promised me that money and family names did not matter.

When he proposed, I had believed him.

Maybe that was my mistake.

“Rahma.”

Margaret’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.

I turned.

My mother-in-law was walking toward me.

She looked perfect in a dark green dress, her silver necklace resting against her neck.

Her eyes moved over me slowly.

Then her mouth tightened.

“You’re wearing that tonight?”

I looked down at my dress.

It was simple, black, and elegant.

At least I thought it was.

“Yes.”

She gave a soft laugh.

“You always make it obvious that you weren’t raised around people like us.”

My fingers curled at my sides.

“Jeff bought this dress for me.”

“That doesn’t mean you know how to wear it.”

I said nothing.

Margaret stepped closer.

“Tonight is important. These investors could change the future of Carlson Group. Try not to embarrass Jeff.”

My chest tightened.

“I won’t.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

“You brought nothing into this marriage, Rahma. No connections. No family name. No wealth. The least you can do is make yourself useful.”

The words hit me even though I had heard similar ones before.

I lowered my eyes.

“Yes, Margaret.”

She walked away.

I waited until she was gone before releasing the breath I had been holding.

Sometimes, I wondered how much longer I could keep doing this.

Then I thought about Jeff.

And I reminded myself again.

I loved him.

That had to mean something.

Didn’t it?

⸻

By seven that evening, the mansion was glowing.

Crystal chandeliers filled the dining room with warm light. The long table was covered with expensive silverware and glasses. Every chair had been carefully positioned.

The investors arrived one after another.

Jeff came home only twenty minutes before dinner.

I had barely seen him all week.

Carlson Group was expanding into two new cities, and he had been working late almost every night.

When he walked into the dining room in his dark suit, my heart still reacted the same way it always did.

He was handsome.

Too handsome sometimes.

Tall, broad shoulders, dark hair, serious brown eyes.

His gaze found mine.

For a brief second, his expression softened.

“Hey,” he said quietly when he reached me.

“Hey.”

“You look beautiful.”

My chest warmed.

“Thank you.”

I wanted to tell him about Margaret.

About Vanessa.

About how exhausted I was.

But before I could, Margaret appeared.

“Jeff, Mr. Anderson is here.”

Jeff immediately looked toward the entrance.

“I’ll be right there.”

He squeezed my hand once before walking away.

That one small touch was enough to make me stay hopeful.

Dinner began shortly after.

I moved toward the chair beside Jeff.

It was where I normally sat during family dinners.

But before I could pull it out, Margaret touched my arm.

“Not there.”

I frowned.

“What?”

“That seat is for Mr. Anderson.”

I looked at Jeff.

He had heard her.

I knew he had.

His eyes met mine.

For one second, I waited for him to say something.

Anything.

She is my wife.

Rahma sits beside me.

But he didn’t.

Margaret pointed toward a chair farther down the table.

“You can sit there.”

My face burned.

Several guests were already watching.

I forced a smile.

“Of course.”

I moved quietly.

Jeff watched me take the other seat.

Still, he said nothing.

I lowered my eyes so nobody would see how much it hurt.

The dinner continued.

Everyone talked about business.

Numbers.

Investments.

Expansion.

Things I barely understood because nobody ever included me in those conversations.

Halfway through dinner, one of the investors, an older man sitting across from me, smiled.

“You’re Jeff’s wife, correct?”

I nodded.

“Yes.”

“You’re very lovely.”

“Thank you.”

He smiled warmly.

“Which family are you from?”

The table became strangely quiet.

My fingers tightened around my fork.

Before I could answer, Margaret laughed.

It wasn’t a kind laugh.

“Oh, Rahma doesn’t have a family worth mentioning.”

A few people smiled awkwardly.

Someone cleared their throat.

My heart cracked quietly inside my chest.

I looked at Jeff.

He was staring at his plate.

He heard her.

Of course he heard her.

But once again, he said nothing.

I smiled because I didn’t know what else to do.

“I grew up in a very normal home,” I said softly.

The man smiled at me.

“There’s nothing wrong with normal.”

“Exactly.”

But my voice barely came out.

For the rest of dinner, I hardly tasted anything.

I stood alone on the balcony later that night.

The guests were gone.

The mansion was quiet again.

I wrapped my arms around myself.

The cool air touched my face.

“Rahma.”

I knew Jeff’s voice without turning.

He came to stand beside me.

“You disappeared.”

“I needed some air.”

He was silent for a moment.

Then he sighed.

“Don’t take what my mother said personally.”

I turned slowly.

“Don’t take it personally?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, Jeff. I don’t.”

His eyebrows pulled together.

“She shouldn’t have said it like that.”

“Like that?”

My voice shook.

“She told a table full of people that I don’t have a family worth mentioning.”

“I know.”

“And you sat there.”

He exhaled.

“Rahma…”

“You always sit there.”

He looked away.

That hurt even more.

I swallowed.

“Why don’t you ever defend me?”

His eyes came back to mine.

“It’s not that simple.”

“It feels simple to me.”

“She’s my mother.”

“And I’m your wife.”

Silence.

The words hung between us.

For one foolish second, I wanted him to say I was right.

I wanted him to hold me.

I wanted him to tell me this would never happen again.

Instead, he rubbed his forehead.

“You know how my mother is. Fighting her will only make things worse.”

I stared at him.

Something inside me went cold.

“So what am I supposed to do?”

“Just ignore her.”

“For how long?”

“Rahma.”

“No. Tell me.”

He didn’t answer.

I understood then.

He expected me to keep enduring it.

Tomorrow.

Next month.

Next year.

Forever, if necessary.

Because keeping peace with his family mattered more than protecting me.

My eyes burned, but I refused to cry.

“I’m tired, Jeff.”

His face softened.

“I know.”

No.

He didn’t.

If he knew, he would do something.

I turned away.

“I’m going to bed.”

“Rahma—”

“Goodnight.”

I walked inside before he could stop me.

By the time I reached our bedroom, my head felt strange.

I changed slowly and sat at the edge of the bed.

Maybe I had eaten too little.

Maybe I was just exhausted.

I stood to walk toward the bathroom.

The room suddenly moved.

I grabbed the dresser.

“Oh God.”

My stomach twisted violently.

I covered my mouth and rushed into the bathroom.

I barely reached the toilet before I vomited.

My hands shook as I held my hair away from my face.

When it finally stopped, I sat back against the cold floor.

My heart was beating fast.

I closed my eyes.

Then one thought slowly entered my mind.

When was my last period?

My eyes opened.

And suddenly, I wasn’t thinking about Margaret anymore.

Or Vanessa.

Or even Jeff.

I was counting days.

And the more I counted, the harder my heart began to pound.

Rahma’s POV

I didn’t sleep well.

Every time I closed my eyes, the same thought returned.

My period was late.

At first, I tried to convince myself it meant nothing.

Stress could delay it.

And if there was one thing I had enough of in this house, it was stress.

I sat on the edge of the bed the next morning with my phone in my hand, staring at the calendar.

I counted again.

Then again.

My stomach tightened.

Ten days.

I was ten days late.

I slowly placed my palm over my stomach.

“No,” I whispered.

But my heart was already beating faster.

It wasn’t impossible.

Jeff and I had never stopped being husband and wife, even when things between us became difficult. There were still nights when he came home tired and reached for me. Nights when the distance disappeared for a few