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

Too early for deliveries. Too late for visitors.

Ayla was alone — Leo had left an hour ago for a board meeting, and the house staff were rotating days off.

So when she opened the door and saw him, her breath stopped.

Perfectly tailored shirt. A smile like a trophy. One hand in his pocket, the other holding a white envelope.

Her hand gripped the doorframe, knuckles tight.

"I thought you'd be more excited to see me," he added, his voice still that same low purr. "After everything we've been through."

She didn't invite him in. But he stepped over the threshold anyway.

The living room looked too clean. Too exposed.

He walked in like he'd been here before — like he owned this place once, and was just taking a tour of what had been stolen from him.

"So this is where he keeps you now?" he said, running a hand along the marble counter.

She turned, planting herself between him and the nursery.

"If you come near me again, I will destroy you."

He blinked — amused. "Big words for a girl who cried when I raised my voice."

"You walked away from everything," he said. "From me. From the future we built."

"We didn't build anything," she snapped. "You constructed a prison and told me to decorate it."

Ilham chuckled. "That's cute. You've got fire now. Maybe your billionaire likes it. For now."

He held up the envelope. "This is a copy of our cohabitation agreement. You forgot we signed something before you ran. Technically, you were still bound to me when you got married. That opens doors. Legal ones."

"I could make this ugly," he said, his voice softening like poison in tea. "But I'd rather be… civil."

Ilham stepped closer. Close enough that she smelled the same cologne he used to wear — expensive, suffocating.

"I want you to remember that no matter how far you climb…""You were mine first."

He just took in the scene: Ayla, pale and still. Ilham, too close. A single envelope on the floor.

His voice was cold enough to cut marble.

"You have three seconds to leave."

Ilham turned, smiling. "Leo Darmawan. The man of the hour."

"I'll walk," he muttered, brushing past. "No need for theatrics."

Leo didn't even watch him leave. His focus was already on Ayla.

She hadn't moved. She was still standing where Ilham had left her — like his shadow still clung to her skin.

Leo crossed the room and cupped her face, gently tilting her eyes up to his.

Leo's jaw clenched. But his hands stayed gentle.

She looked away. "I didn't think he'd still want to ruin me. I thought… maybe I mattered so little, he'd forget."

Leo touched her wrist. Lightly. Anchoring.

"You matter. More than anything that came before."

She blinked back tears. "You can't fix this, Leo."

"I want to stand in it with you."

That night, Ayla sat alone in the nursery.

She looked at the crib. Half-built. Still missing a side panel.

Her fingers grazed the white paint.

Then she reached into her purse, pulled out Ilham's envelope.

The paper made no sound when it hit the bottom.

To be continued...

Chapter Twelve: When the Past Wears a Smile