Zamian didn't want to think too much about what his wife had said. How could she say something like that? His mind swirled with confusion and frustration, battling the weight of her words. He had always prided himself on being a strong, capable husband, yet her comment felt like a blow to his pride. The atmosphere in the restaurant was thick with tension, the kind that hung heavily in the air after a storm.
The waiter who was still standing at thier table their table, trying to speak, his voice low and cautious. He did his best not to look directly at Zamian, who was staring at him with an intensity that made the waiter's hands tremble slightly. It was as if Zamian had become a storm cloud, ready to unleash his fury at any moment.
"It's your husband who paid, Mrs. Mira," he managed to say, his tone laced with a mix of respect and fear.
