No Way To Rescue Destiny Ch. 01

This is my true story. Includes community problems and good friendship.

I hope you like it.

'Your feedback is important to me'

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In 2013, in a small city in an Arabian country where I grew up.

I was 23 years old when I got married, a traditional marriage, which based on marrying a faithful wife, wearing decent clothes, I don't mean bedouin clothing or all black, but to hide her physical beauty, and love comes with time.

All I want is to create a decent family with a faithful wife, and I have got it.

My name is Sami. I work as a pastry baker in a traditional restaurant with an average monthly salary.

My wife Becky is 22 years old when we got married.

However, I graduated from a university of education; I had gotten no opportunities to work in my specialty; these things are because of social factors and favoritism.

Anyway, after one year of marriage, we didn't have children before we had found out that my wife is childless.

I was pressured by my father to marry another woman.

As you know, the man is allowed to marry four. But I refused, I know that would hurt my wife, Becky, that isn't her guilt, I believe in destiny.

After one and a half years of marriage, the economic conditions got worth, as a result of increasing prices in general; accordingly, I looked for an additional job to fill the deficit.

So, my friend Andrew helped me to get a job as a tracker for a construction plant, it's an underpaid job, Andrew told me that the boss is stingy, but I have no choice.

Andrew is a year younger than me, he is an engineer; he gets a big salary; it was embarrassing to me to work with a friend I had known for four years ago, with a 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 a day; sometimes, I come back from work to find her asleep. My life was getting worse and boring, and for sure, this effect on Becky's life too, she was feeling lonely, but I have 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 is texting. Along the way, I checked her phone when she is sleeping, busy with housework, anything else.

I waited till she goes to sleep and lightly a hand-picked up her phone, and I walked out on my toes for not waking her up and went to the bedroom.

Becky made a draw lock, It's not a new thing, 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 any 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, and she must be firm and avoid noticeable teasing in public.

Not to mention modest, loose dress and conservative in handling.

These are not laws, but community habits, so, It differs in relative terms from one governorate to another or city to another.

Therefore, in all cities, wines are fully allowed, and prostitution exists in some places.

I mean, you can do anything, but society's perception is different.

Men are also socially restricted, not women only, but marital infidelity brings more shame to men and touches his honor.

Without further ado, but the woman here is treated like a precious jewel, untouchable, and has greater privacy.

Let's get back to the story, after deep thinking, I acted normally and told her that these things bother me, and she must give it up.

And that's what happened the next day; her reaction was keeping quiet and feeling guilty.

The days passed, and I dealt with her as if nothing happened, but with a little supervision.

One day, I came from work and infiltrated to the master bedroom and found her sleeping, the phone on her numbed hand, she seems she fell 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, I laid down on the bed, but I couldn't sleep, my brain kept overthinking, surrounded by problems, my stressful jobs, and my wife's immoral behaviors.

Feeling overwhelmed and don't know where to solve my problems.

I kept awake until the morning as she waked up, walking her way to the bathroom as she looked at me in the eyes and noticed my angry feelings.

"Look, If you keep doing this crap again, you will suffer unpleasant consequences," I shouted, and reached out to the master bedroom to get changing for work.

Becky tried to talk, but I didn't give any attention and left the house.

It was clear to co-workers and the boss in the restaurant that there is 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 and head in 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 craftsmen.

********************

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 pissed off; I used every possible means to stop this unblushing stuff. I tried the advice, guidance, and the hard beating, but nothing new.

All I knew was those scoundrels who communicate with her; she knew them through social media, but, Yeah, there are more hidden things that I do not know.

They are from other provinces; this is the only thing that made me deal calmly; the fear of society and people's perception are significant.

It is a shame to walk on the street, and some look at you like an idiot.

I thought about viable solutions, "What's wrong about me? Am I an unfit husband?"

But I am emotionally and sexually good, maybe the financial situation is a little awkward, but there are a lot of families suffering from this condition.

It seems that the two jobs that take up all my time are an essential factor in the case.

I asked myself, "There are many decisive solutions, such as divorce, but can I live single in the 26!"

For the record, divorced man here couldn't marry again quickly, and doubts will be raised around him, especially when they know that I have no children, besides the new bride price.

That's clear that any wife needs a husband to be around her, not a husband who is working day and night to make a living; however, that's a 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 the hell alone, I mean to act like strangers in one house and throw some cold water on the situation to set my next plan.

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I believe that every woman should live a happy life with a good man.

Becky has no child, and by a large percentage, she lives without a husband.

I'm out of the house all day, then I go back to sleep with physical and mental fatigue, so I cannot blame her; she is a human being; on the other hand, texting strangers like this dirty way is rejected.

Therefore, I decided to give her what she wants, someone who would be just a friend, chatting with him as she wants, under the principle of friendship, and, more importantly, someone I know significantly, and trusted him indefinitely.

I consulted with Becky about this issue, and I decided that any wife has duties and rights, and I discussed with her about my idea, that he should be a trusted person who is my friend Dylan.

Becky's reaction was very positive, and she explained that she agreed with me very much and that Dylan was a beautiful, cultured, and sexy person.

I had some reservations about the word 'Sexy,' but I took in good faith.

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Dylan is a childhood friend, and next-door neighbor accompanied me in most educational levels, elementary, middle, and high school. We only separated at the university level, so we are the same age.

Dylan never left my side; he is a good listener; we share everything.

I notice that very well that he treats me better than others.

I preferred Dylan to be the right person to do this job.

But it is very tough, in our society, men do not talk about their wives' problems, nor their individual sexual life, good or bad, and the most shameful thing is to complain to people that his wife is cheating him even if the complaint is to his closest friends.

Let alone asking someone to be a friend for your wife, and the more difficult it is for this person to be your close friend like Dylan.

So I put forward the matter to him indirectly. So, I set a plan as follows: I will create a fake FB account pretending to be Becky's friend, Eve.

Eve doesn't exist and to tell him that Becky has a crush on him and wants to be friends.

And wait for his reaction so that Becky and I will be out of the picture. If his response is angry, we claim that it is a fake account from a disinterested person, and I will handle it.

We created the account. I messaged Dylan saying, "Hi, how are you."

I waited for a response from him, for two weeks, during this time I read a lot on the Internet about the topics of wives who cheat their husbands, and stories about cuckolding.

These thoughts came to mind gradually, I tried to take my mind off these thoughts, but it wasn't any good until those thoughts became aphrodisiac.

I asked myself, "Should I talk with Becky about this!"

"Damn it, what's the matter with me!" I thought, wondering how did my life get to this point.

I was jealous of her; I can't even stand with guys staring at her while I'm with her!

I thought about her abusive acts with those wantons. Something inside of me told me to know her opinion about this matter with a hint.

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Days passed, at noon, on Friday, where the official holiday, I was watching TV with Becky, who was sitting on the other sofa beside me, peeling potatoes.

She asked, "Is there any new about Dylan?"

"No," I muttered. "A month passed, and nothing new."

"What did you say in the message?"

"Hi, How you doing."

"Hi," She laughed. "Get to the point."

"Ummm, maybe," I agreed. "I will send another one."

My phone was in my hands, and I thought carefully about the content of the message I would send.

"Hello, I am sorry for this weird way to start. I'm Eve, Becky's best friend, I need to talk to you about her, so can we?" I sent the message as my hand was shaking.

There was silence for minutes. I went back to talking again; I prepared myself to discuss my thoughts. I arranged my words carefully.

"I have accidentally read about husbands who like to watch their wives have sex with other men, how in hell they think that way." I pretended to be wondered.

"Really," she snickered. "These things do not happen for sexual reasons only, but they may be for psychological or curious reasons." She walked to the kitchen to put the potatoes in the sauce and went back.

Before she sat down, she said in a stern voice, "Don't involve yourself in things without knowledge." Then she walked to the kitchen again.

I didn't understand what she means by these words, but her response was decisive and sufficient to make me don't know what to say.

Hours went, suddenly heard a voice message from my phone. I picked up the phone quickly; it was from Dylan as I expected.

"What's the problem," Dylan texted.

I'm the anxious type, and I don't know how the conversation will proceed, and this will reflect on my facial expressions.

So, I preferred to leave the house on any pretext.

"Becky, I'm going outside to buy a pack of cigarettes." I went out quickly.

I sat in a cafe to relax. I logged in Eve's account, which is fake.

"Becky suffers a psychological state, and she wants to talk to you as Sami's closest friend," I replied.

"But I'm not a psychologist," Dylan mocked. "Who are you?"

"I'm Eve, her friend."

"What about Sami, he is her husband!"

I had to answer a convincing answer, so my response was honest.

"As you know, he is out throughout the day because of his new job, and Becky doesn't want to increase the troubles over him."

"I know, I know, but any help that will come through me will be through Sami, although I don't know what my role is."

"You have no role; your role is that you Sami's best friend, so why don't you let her meet you and explain everything by herself."

"Are you Psychol! how do I meet my friend's wife without his knowledge or presence!"

"Ok .. Ok, what about calling her?"

"I don't have free time for this crap, so be straight with me, but let me know who you are and what do you want exactly."

I thought it was time to talk more carelessly.

"Ok, I wish you would take things quietly, Becky has a crush on you."

Dylan had seen the message but didn't type for a few minutes. I was nervous about what he was thinking. Then Dylan typed; he took too much time, which raised my concern.

"I will be peaceful with you a little, if we look at it from the point of view that it is a problem, let us meet and try to find a solution, but if you plan to facilitate things between her and me, I will find you wherever you are, and I will kick your ass."

"Oh, come down, I'm just a messenger."

"Ummm, who you are? Are you from the town?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Let's say, in case I call or meet her, although it is impossible, once, two or many times, what will she gain out of this!"

"I have said that Becky has a crush on you, I think it's as clear as crystal."

"Call me a dull, and need your enlightening," he mocked.

"She thinks you are a beautiful, cultured, and sexy guy."

"Beautiful and cultured, it's lovely words, but 'Sexy' has several purposes," Dylan stressed.

"That's a fact."

"Can you give me the intended purpose."

Dylan encouraged me to go so far. I thought I drew him into the point I wanted. So I should be confident. I kept pace, I mean, not to be impulsive.

"Sexy means the same meaning you are thinking about right now; she needs someone as attractiveness, charm, and allure as you are."

"Look, I can ask for evidence, but no, as long as you talk about my friend's wife like this, you are either a whore girl or a faggot boy," Dylan texted and then blocked me.

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I didn't know what to do; I involved myself in a risky case, what to say to Becky!

I was straight with her and showed her what happened between Dylan and me in the conversation.

But I wondered about Dylan's issue, how he would find Eve, a fake character, I was the one who has talked to him.

While I was thinking deeply, my phone rang, here is Dylan calls me, he will talk to me about that account, and I'm not ready; I have not made a plan for the upcoming events, I did not answer.

I went home; I informed Becky about what has happened. I showed her the conversation.

Her reaction was very calm. "Never mind, don't talk to him about this again, as if nothing happened," She reassured.

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I went to take a shower while I was taking a bath; I heard my phone ring.

"Who is that, Becky?" I yelled.

She walked to the sofa to pick the phone; she said with a laugh, "It's Dylan, has he consulted with you about the matter?"

"No, wait till I finish."

After I finished, my wife was sitting in the living room; I joined her.

"What do you have in mind, Dylan has no idea what's going on," Becky laughed.

"I don't know, really, I don't know, but I have no choice but to deny," I admitted.

The phone rang again. Oh my lord, it's Dylan.

Becky chuckled sarcastically at my embarrassing situation.

"What a silly," I said facetiously.

I walked out of the house to talk more comfortably.

"Wassap, where are u?" Dylan asked.

"Fine, Dylan, what about you?"

"I'm doing great, I wanna see you right now."

"Playing PlayStation or dominoes?"

"No, we have to sit in the cafe to talk about is a significant problem."

"What's the problem?" I claimed to be worried.

"C'mon, don't be a deadshit, I'll not be able to explain on the phone, I will be in Sahra cafe just in 10 minutes," He urged.

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In Sahra cafe, at 9 o'clock, we spent some time joking and talking about work.

Dylan doesn't look for a job in his specialty; he prefers to run a branch of his father's company, a tools company.

Many people here prefer working in the private sector and entrepreneurial, in particular, young people.

Dylan is the boss of the branch he runs, so he has much free time because sometimes he runs the business from the phone.

Despite his young age, but he is a successful manager, as I said, he is 26 years old like me.

Anyway, we sat in the cafe, he ordered hookah apple-flavored which makes the smoke comes out of his mouth like a fucking train chimney, and I ordered a cup of tea, then he started to bring it up.

"Look, bro." Dylan crossed his fingers, lowered his head shamefully. "I'm very embarrassed to talk to you about something... silly like this, but it's my duty as a friend to be loyal to you," he mumbled.

"Don't raise my concerns, go-ahead." I pretended to be a worry.

"Ok, read this conversation." he handed me his phone and looked away out of embarrassment.

I read the whole conversation; briefly, you knew, I need not read it because I'm the one who was chatting with him.

While I was reading, I pretended to be shocked by raising my eyebrows and putting the palm of my hand on my cheek.

Dylan was trying to avoid eye contact. Then I put his phone on the table and kept silent, looking right and left.

"We should find out who is that motherfucker and kick his or her butt." Dylan broke the silence.

I kept silent and shocked too.

"Sami, what's wrong with you, man, you must do something, I want to help you, silence doesn't work," he consoled.

"I don't..." I sighed. "I don't know, what can I do, I'm out of my mind."

"Ok, I understand how you feel. I won't press you to respond; currently, I know you need much time to think about it," Dylan bewailed. "What about texting this dickhead to understand what is going on?" he suggested.

"Ummm, ok, let's talk about this later, I need to go home now," I hesitated.

"Ok bro," Dylan stood up and got his wallet out to pay, as usual in our society, it is a kind of generosity, especially with guests or in those situations.

Before we separated, Dylan reassured me, "Don't worry, everything will be ok. I guarantee this. See you next week." He smiled and walked away.

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I arrived home. Becky was sitting listening to the music in the living room. She asked me what happened between Dylan and me.

"Before we talk about anything, get me a cup of lemon juice," I asked her, she quickly got two cups for us.

I told her what happened; she disturbed a little.

"What would you do next?" she questioned.

"I must stop this, but this will take much time because of Dylan, who is very responsive in helping me and seeks to find out who was communicating to him."

"You two will look for a character who does not exist, please look for yourself seriously," Becky burst into laughter. "Excuse me, but how you text Eve; the account you have created, it's a waste of time."

"I will text the fake account, and I will not respond to claim that I did everything to find out."

"Then Dylan is going to look for another solution, and you must expect what he will do," she advised me and predicted.