One Night with the Billionaire

Aruna never imagined that the night meant to celebrate their fifth wedding anniversary would instead become the worst night of her life. It was 9:15 p.m. when she parked in front of the house, still clutching a box of her husband’s favorite chocolate cake—the one she’d ordered days in advance from their favorite shop. Tucked under the ribbon was a small handwritten letter filled with sweet words. She’d left work early just to surprise him. But the surprise waiting inside… was nothing she had ever envisioned. Through the half-open living room window, Aruna spotted the shadows of two people. At first, she thought Raka was entertaining a guest. But then came the laughter—laughter she knew all too well. Sugary and spoiled, laced with soft sighs, pounding against her ribs like war drums. She crept closer, holding her breath, and peered through the gap in the curtain. Her body froze into something as rigid as an ice sculpture. There was Raka, shirt hanging open, sitting on the sofa. And sprawled across his lap, in a flimsy nightgown that barely covered anything, was Livia—her best friend since high school. The girl who used to cry on Aruna’s shoulder after every breakup. The woman she had once called “a sister without blood ties.” Now, that same woman was laughing while kissing Raka’s neck. The cake box slipped from Aruna’s hands, the red ribbon unraveling as it hit the floor with a dull thud—loud enough to make them both turn their heads. Their eyes widened. “Aruna… I—” Raka scrambled to his feet, shirt half-off, panic flashing in his eyes but not fast enough to hide the rot that had just been exposed. “This isn’t… what it looks like,” Livia stammered, her hand still clutching Raka’s arm. A sharp, humorless laugh escaped Aruna. “Not what it looks like? So my eyes are broken now? Or maybe I’m hallucinating—seeing my husband and my best friend on the couch like some tacky scene from a soap opera?” Raka took a step toward her, reaching for her hand. “Listen to me, I can explain—” “Explain?” She stepped back, her eyes burning, holding back the tears with all her strength. “What exactly are you trying to explain, Raka? That you just ‘slipped’ into Livia’s arms? Or that she’s simply… keeping you company?” Livia bit her lip. “Aruna, I’m sorry… this… we—” “Ssshh…” Aruna lifted her hand to silence her. “Don’t ever call me ‘Aruna’ again. From this moment on, we are not friends. We are nothing.” The air in the room felt suffocating. Only the sound of their heavy breathing filled the space. Aruna bent down, picked up the crushed cake box, and hurled it onto the table. A glass toppled over and shattered into tiny pieces. “I came home to surprise you. But apparently, you two beat me to it.” Her smile was thin, cold. “Good night… and goodbye.” Without waiting for a response, she turned, opened the door, and stepped out. The night air bit at her skin, but it still felt kinder than the toxic heat inside the house. Inside the car, she started the engine, and the tears finally spilled. But behind the tears, something else began to take root—anger. Anger that slowly hardened into resolve. Tonight, Aruna was no longer the same woman. And she swore… they would both regret it. She pressed harder on the gas, the car cutting through the deserted streets. City lights flashed across the windshield like camera bursts. Her hands clenched the steering wheel as if it were the only thing keeping her steady. She wasn’t going to her parents’ house. She didn’t want to explain anything tonight. She just needed… to get away. Half an hour later, she pulled up in front of a five-star hotel downtown. The lobby glimmered under crystal chandeliers that spilled light like rain from the ceiling. She had been here once before—for a coworker’s wedding reception—and thought it far too extravagant for her taste. Now? She didn’t care. “Good evening, ma’am. Do you have a reservation?” the receptionist asked with a polite smile. “Not yet. One room. As far from the elevator as possible, and if you can… a city view.” “Yes, ma’am. We have a suite on the twelfth floor. Would you like—” “I want the quietest one. If possible, clear the whole floor,” Aruna said, half-joking, half-serious. The receptionist’s lips twitched, as if imagining her on some ultra-luxury “me time” escape. Key card in hand, Aruna rode the elevator to the twelfth floor. Inside the suite, she tossed her bag onto the sofa, slipped off her shoes, and sank onto the edge of the bed. It was quiet. Too quiet. She reached for her phone. Her fingers hovered before typing: > Aruna: Cik, where are you? Can you come to the Grand Imperial Hotel? Please… > Cika: I’m at the hospital, just finished the afternoon shift. Why? Are you sick?! > Aruna: It hurts… my heart. > Cika: Wow. That’s bad. Send me your location. I’m on my way. A small smile tugged at Aruna’s lips. Cika was like that—never asking too many questions, but always showing up. Maybe it was because she wasn’t married, so her schedule was flexible. Or maybe… it was because Cika was a true friend. --- Half an hour later, there was a knock—three short taps. When Aruna opened the door, Cika stood there in her doctor’s uniform, hair tied up in a messy bun, a sling bag stuffed with medical supplies slung over her shoulder. “I came fully prepared. If we need to perform open-heart surgery for heartbreak, we’re doing it tonight.” Aruna hugged her tightly. For the first time since the incident, her chest felt a little lighter. “Come in, Cik. I need you… before I do something reckless, like throw someone off the twelfth floor.” Cika gave her a serious look before setting her bag down. “Alright. Sit. Tell me everything. Start from the top. No censorship.” Aruna swallowed hard. Then the words spilled out—about the cake, the glimpse through the curtain, about Raka… and Livia. Cika rubbed her temples. “So, the same Raka you fought your family for… is now—” “—stabbing me in the back,” Aruna finished bitterly. “Not just me. He stabbed our friendship too.” “If I were you, I’d make tomorrow’s headline: ‘Doctor and Businessman Engage in Flowerpot Duel in Living Room.’” Cika’s attempt at humor couldn’t mask the anger in her eyes. Aruna smiled faintly. “That’s why I called you. I needed someone to make me feel… less alone.” “Then here’s the plan,” Cika said. “Tonight, we sleep here. Tomorrow, we go shopping. And the day after… we plot a revenge that’s graceful but deadly.” Aruna’s eyes narrowed. “You’re serious?” “Dead serious. I may be a doctor, but I’m also skilled at… healing emotional wounds in slightly illegal ways.” Cika winked. For the first time that night, Aruna chuckled. A thin but genuine laugh. Maybe, she thought, her life hadn’t completely fallen apart—not as long as she still had someone like Cika by her side. She didn’t know then… that her escape tonight would lead her to meet someone who would change everything.