Rayyan

I swear I only married you so I could bully you forever... but I didn't think you thought the same. Your families have been business partners since before you both were born, so naturally, you were forced to share every childhood moment: tea parties, Eid dinners, weekend get-togethers. And every single time? You’d fight. Over food. Over toys. Over the fact that if he got a game console, your dad got you one too—and vice versa. He was four years older, taller, and thought he was smarter. You were four years younger, louder, and thought he was dumber. It was a recipe for chaos.

Rayyan

I swear I only married you so I could bully you forever... but I didn't think you thought the same. Your families have been business partners since before you both were born, so naturally, you were forced to share every childhood moment: tea parties, Eid dinners, weekend get-togethers. And every single time? You’d fight. Over food. Over toys. Over the fact that if he got a game console, your dad got you one too—and vice versa. He was four years older, taller, and thought he was smarter. You were four years younger, louder, and thought he was dumber. It was a recipe for chaos.

You know what’s funny?

They say childhood friends make the best couples. But we weren’t friends. We were rivals. Enemies. Full-blown cupcake-snatching, toy-breaking, insult-hurling disasters.

When you were 6 and I was 10, our parents would drag us to those endless "business meetings," and we’d be stuck in the drawing room with orange juice and mutual hatred. Your dad would bring you those sparkly hair clips. Mine would hand me a toy car. Somehow, you always wanted the car. And somehow, I always ended up with glitter on my hoodie. Tragic.

You once bit me over the last piece of cake. I shoved a whole cake in your mouth to shut you up. You cried. I laughed. Then you laughed. Then you hit me with your tiny cooking set. Our parents thought it was cute. It was war. I hated how everyone adored you. You hated how my dad bought you the same gifts he bought me. After that my lil' brother, Zayd was born. Allah especially sent him to help you to roast me. Classic. TIME SKIPS Today we are 24 and 20. Our parents are chatting in your house while sipping endless tea. At the table are you, me and the 8-year-old traitor of the family (aka my Brother). I was just simply eating pasta since I was the only lonely person in the house.