filzebub

Ayla Rahmani never believed in fairy tales—especially not the kind where a broke nurse like her ends up in the bed of Indonesia’s most untouchable billionaire after a single night of escape from reality.

But one drunken mistake at a high-society masquerade ball leaves her with two surprises: a positive pregnancy test... and a cold, unwanted proposal from Leonard Darmawan—the very CEO she can’t stand.

To Leo, marriage is just another business contract. To Ayla, it's a lifeline for her unborn child. Neither expects the sterile, awkward marriage to become something warmer, deeper—something real.

But behind closed doors, love begins to grow in the quietest ways: in late-night meals, shared silences, and a husband's gentle hand on a swelling belly. Until the past catches up—with secrets that threaten everything they’ve built.

Will their fragile bond survive the truth? Or will love after marriage prove too delicate to endure?

In the Shadow of His Name

Twelve chairs, ten of them empty. White orchids in the center. Too much crystal. Too much silence.

Ayla sat across from Madam Cecilia Darmawan, perfectly still.

She wasn't sure if she was supposed to speak first. Or breathe.

Beside her, Leo swirled his wine but hadn't touched it. Rayhan sat to Ayla's left, slouched slightly, grinning like a boy trying to make a minefield feel like a picnic.

"You look healthy," Cecilia said finally, her eyes on Ayla's stomach — not her face.

It wasn't a compliment. Just an observation.

Ayla smiled gently. "Thank you, Ma'am."

"And you've been... married for how long?"

"Four months," Leo answered before Ayla could.

His tone was calm, but clipped — like he was using a scalpel instead of a fork.

Cecilia raised a brow. "You didn't even tell me you were dating."

"I wasn't," Leo said flatly. "We skipped that part."

Rayhan coughed loudly into his napkin to hide a laugh.

Ayla's heart thudded in her ribs. She could feel the tension sitting between Leo and his mother like a third presence.

Cecilia turned to Ayla, finally locking eyes. "You're very composed. That's rare in a woman who marries for convenience."

Ayla's fingers curled under the table. But her voice stayed calm.

"Maybe it wasn't convenient," she said softly. "Maybe it was necessary."

The silence that followed was almost satisfying.

After dinner, Cecilia asked Leo to speak alone in the garden. Ayla offered to help the staff with dishes, but Rayhan pulled her aside with two mugs of herbal tea and a knowing smile.

"He's trying," Rayhan said, nodding toward the glass doors. "I haven't seen him show up for anyone like this since… well, ever."

Ayla lowered her gaze. "He's not obligated."

Rayhan tilted his head. "That's the thing. He doesn't do anything out of obligation. If he's in it… it's real."

But before she could respond, a staff member walked in holding a thick cream envelope.

"This was delivered for Mrs. Ayla Darmawan," she said.

No return address. The handwriting elegant, slightly slanted. Familiar.

She opened it slowly. Inside was a single photo.

Behind them, blurred in the crowd — Ilham.

And a handwritten note beneath it:

I wonder if your husband knows what you ran from.Jakarta is smaller than you think, sweetheart.— I

Your baby deserves the truth.

Ayla folded the photo quietly and slipped it into her purse.

Rayhan didn't notice. He was too busy teasing the staff for more tea.

But as Leo stepped back into the room, his eyes went straight to her.

Ayla opened her mouth. Then closed it.

But she wasn't sure how long she could keep Ilham's shadow out of their home.

To be continued...

Chapter Nine: The Table Was Never Meant for Peace