The Billionaire's Forgotten Night

The afternoon sun poured through the wide bay window, casting a golden glow on Anna’s living room. The walls, once filled with the laughter of childhood and long talks on school holidays, now felt too quiet, too uncertain. Her heart thudded in her chest like a ticking bomb as she stared at the boy—no, the man—she’d loved all her life. Liam sat across from her, his elbows resting lazily on his knees, his smile warm, clueless, and kind—the kind that once made her heart flutter. They were just two best friends sitting on the couch, like they had a hundred times before. Except this time, everything was about to change. She clenched her fingers around the edge of the cushion. “I love you,” she said softly. At first, Liam didn’t react. He blinked, tilted his head, then let out a small laugh. “You’re joking, right?” Her smile trembled. “No, I’m not.” Silence fell like a shroud. Liam stood slowly, pacing a few steps before turning to face her. “Anna… you’re my best friend. You’ve always been my anchor. But I don’t feel that way about you.” Something in her chest cracked. She tried to keep her breathing steady, but it came out in short, quiet bursts. “But… we’ve shared everything. You—you said you couldn’t imagine your life without me.” “I can’t,” he whispered. “But not like that.” Each word hit her like a hammer to the soul. “And there’s something else,” he added, rubbing the back of his neck. “I got a job offer. Overseas. I leave in three days.” The words slammed into her. “Three… days?” “I was going to tell you tomorrow, but I didn’t want it to be like this. I swear, I—” “You didn’t want it to be like this,” she echoed, her voice breaking. “Then why did you let me dream?” Tears blurred her vision. He took a step forward, but she shook her head and stood up. “Go, Liam,” she whispered. “You’ve already left.” He stared at her, regret flickering in his eyes. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t respond. He left her house. And for the first time in her life, Anna felt truly, completely alone. Later that night, Anna showed up on Faith’s doorstep, mascara streaked down her face and hands trembling. The door swung open, and Faith immediately pulled her into a hug without asking a single question. That’s what best girlfriends did. “Come inside. I’ll make tea.” “No,” Anna choked out. “I don’t want tea. I want to forget. Take me somewhere… anywhere.” Faith narrowed her eyes. “Anywhere?” Anna nodded. “A club.” Faith’s jaw dropped. “A… you? Clubbing?” “I need to breathe,” she said. “Even if it’s just smoke and alcohol.” The lights of the club flashed neon pink and blue. The thrum of bass vibrated through the sidewalk as the two girls waited in line. Anna’s breath came out in puffs, adrenaline mingling with dread. The unfamiliarity thrilled and scared her. A tall man in a sharp black suit strolled past the line with careless arrogance. He didn’t even glance at the waiting crowd. “Excuse me?” Anna called out. “You can’t just cut the line!” The man paused, slowly turning to look at her with a brow raised in amusement. “Are you talking to me?” “You’re not special,” she said, standing tall despite the racing of her heart. He chuckled. “Interesting.” He turned to the bouncer. “Let them in—with me.” Faith gasped. “Anna, do you know who that is?” “No. Should I?” The man didn’t say a word. He simply opened the velvet rope and gestured them in with a smirk. “Ladies first.” Inside the club, bodies swayed to the music. The air was thick with perfume, sweat, and possibilities. Anna drank. She had never tasted alcohol before, but tonight, she didn’t care. Each sip burned, but it also numbed. She danced. She laughed. She cried. Her pain was slipping away—until she stumbled and collided with someone. It was him. The arrogant stranger. “Having fun, little warrior?” he teased. She looked up at him, eyes glassy. “Can you help me forget someone?” He tilted his head. “What’s in it for me?” “My first time,” she said bluntly. “Everything.” His amused expression faded. He studied her face, and for a second, something shifted behind his eyes. “You sure?” “Yes.” Moments later, they were in a private room. And for a night, she was not Anna-the-heartbroken. She was a woman who took control. At dawn, the stranger woke up alone. No name. No phone number. No trace. Just a single, pressed flower on the pillow beside him. He picked it up slowly, something tight curling in his chest. “Who are you?” he whispered into the silence. Meanwhile, Anna ran through the quiet streets, her shoes in her hands, mascara running again. But this time, it was shame and confusion. She had given her virginity to a stranger. Her heart was already broken—now her body was too. She didn’t know that what she carried inside her would soon make her stronger than she had ever imagined. The wind sliced through the early morning mist as Anna ran barefoot across the empty city street. Her heels dangled from her fingers like broken promises, and every breath she took was shallow—panicked. Tears blurred her vision, but she didn’t stop. She didn’t look back. The ache in her chest was no longer just emotional. It was physical—like her ribs had collapsed inward, crushing what was left of her pride. When she finally stumbled into her apartment, the silence greeted her like an old, cruel friend. She slammed the door shut, collapsed on the floor, and cried. No—wept. Like a child. Like a girl whose world had fallen apart twice in one night. First Liam. Now this. Her body trembled with the weight of what she’d done. What she’d given away. “What did I do?” she whispered into her hands. “What did I just do?” The memory flashed like a slow-burning flame. His eyes—mischievous but soft. His lips—warm and lingering. The way he touched her—not roughly, but like he was searching for something, too. And she let him. But now… it felt wrong. It felt like she had betrayed herself in her grief. Suddenly, she bolted to the bathroom, nausea bubbling up. She dropped to her knees and emptied everything—alcohol, shame, and heartache—into the toilet. And then she lay on the cold tile, cheek pressed against the floor, as sunlight spilled in through the window like it was mocking her. A new day had begun. But she… she felt ruined. Later that afternoon, Faith stormed into the apartment, holding a bag of takeout and wearing her “fix everything” face. “Anna?” she called. “You didn’t pick up any of my texts. I was worried.” Anna stepped out of the bedroom in oversized sweatpants and a hoodie, face pale, lips chapped, eyes puffy. “Whoa,” Faith said softly. “What happened?” Anna tried to smile, but her lips trembled. “You were right,” she whispered. “About what?” “I shouldn’t have gone. I shouldn’t have… done what I did.” Faith set the bag down and hurried over. “Anna, what are you saying?” Anna sank onto the couch. “I slept with a stranger. A stranger, Faith. I didn’t even ask for his name. I just… I just wanted to forget Liam.” Faith didn’t say anything for a moment. Then she slowly sat beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Oh, babe,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.” “I thought it would help,” Anna continued, voice raw. “But I feel worse. So much worse. What if… what if I can’t ever forgive myself?” Faith held her tighter. “You made a mistake, not a death sentence. You’re allowed to feel broken. You’re allowed to mess up. You’re human.” Anna leaned into her friend’s shoulder and cried again—softer this time. Not the violent sobs of earlier, but the quiet, empty kind. The kind that came when you didn’t know who you were anymore. Faith stayed with her all night, watching movies neither of them paid attention to, feeding her spoonfuls of soup she didn’t taste, and holding her hand through each wave of guilt and shame. Days passed. Anna tried to get back to normal—whatever that meant now. She went back to her classes. Smiled when people spoke to her. Laughed when she was supposed to. But the smile never reached her eyes. One evening, while brushing her hair in the mirror, her hand froze. Something felt... off. Her heart skipped. Two weeks late. She blinked. No. No way. She rushed to the pharmacy. Waited in line, hands shaking. Bought a test. Two, just in case. She took them both. Then sat on the edge of the bathtub, staring down at the sticks like they might grow fangs and bite her. Then she saw it. Two pink lines. Not one. Two. Her world tilted. “No…” she whispered. “No, no, no.” She was pregnant. By a stranger. A billionaire playboy whose name she didn’t even know. And just like that—her life changed. Forever.