It was supposed to be just another normal day at my flight attendant job.
"Who wants to volunteer for First Class today?" the purser sitting next to me asked.
"I've been up there so many times now," one girl replied. "Why don't we let our new girl have some more practice?"
"Kaija here comes from the latest batch, right?" another added. "Practice makes perfect, Kaija. Maybe you should take First Class."
Aw, how sweet of them. They think for me way too much.
I would've appreciated the consideration if the purser hadn't announced just minutes ago that we were going to have a freaking, underlined, highlighted VVIP on First Class that day!
But to retort or deflect as a newbie would've only signed me up for some lovely chatter behind my back.
"Oh, that girl Kaija, she's new but she doesn't want to learn anything."
Or maybe something like—
"You wouldn't wanna fly with that Kaija, she's laaazy."
So yeah, I had no choice but to accept my fate.
I gave my two dear colleagues that friendly newbie smile, then turned to my purser and said, "Of course I'd love to take First Class today! I look forward to learning a lot from you, purser!"
The purser didn't care to reply to my typical newbie response. She quietly wrote down my position on the flight info paper, then turned her attention back to her phone.
I stole a glance at her screen. She was reading a news article about that VVIP passenger.
Charles Kosonen.
The last name said it all. The Kosonen family that owned half the media & entertainment companies in S Country and beyond.
The man wasn't just any millionaire whose name you'd never heard of—he was a billionaire.
The Chairman of Kosonen Entertainment—and possibly the future Chairman of Kosonen Group, should his father consider him fit for the seat.
Needless to say, VVIPs like him were known for being extremely fussy.
Displease them, and they'd fill out complaint forms until there was no space left to write. And complaints from VVIPs meant massive point deductions from our monthly scorecards, which eventually reduced our bonuses.
So, it was only natural that none of my crewmates wanted that position and pushed it to me.
But actually, at that very moment, my mind wasn't on any of that.
I was still trying my best to hold myself together at that briefing table.
Thirty minutes earlier, before the briefing started, I'd received a text. It was from Niklas, my boyfriend of four years.
The text was short and sweet.
"Can't wait to see you. Don't forget, Blue Dreams Café, 6 PM."
The problem was, we didn't have any plans at Blue Dreams Café that evening. I hadn't even heard of such a place.
But before I could text back, another message came.
"Love you, Marja."
Yep. And just like that, my brain froze.
As you might've noticed, my name's not Marja.
It's Kaija.
And there was only one Marja that both Niklas and I knew—my best friend from childhood, Marja Ralpha.
But—was she?
Now that the truth had punched me in the face, I wasn't sure what to think anymore.
And yet, I'd stay up late almost every night doing homework for Marja throughout middle school and high school, even though we went to different schools.
And yet, I'd given up my college scholarship in the capital just so I could stay and keep my relationship with Niklas going when we first started dating.
What a fool I was.
A rather miserable, despicable fool, I'd say.
I should've texted back. Or called him right then and there and screamed at the phone like in some dramatic movie scenes.
But that would've been rather pointless, really.
I already had the location. The time.
All I had to do was wait until my duty was over, then head to Blue Dreams Café before 6 PM to catch them both right in the act. That way, neither of them could deny their crimes.
So come at me, Charles Kosonen! Or whatever unlucky soul decided to board my plane today. Because I, Kaija Sepala, would handle you all!
Soon, the briefing ended, and the five of us left the room to head for the airport.
The outbound flight was just routine—only a few tasteless comments I overheard from the pilots about how the uniform dress made our bottoms looked much bigger.
The returning flight was the real game. The VVIP would be on that one.
There was just one problem, though.
This Charles Kosonen guy had only started flying with my airline around the same time I joined—just three months ago—and he'd flown with us multiple times since.
And yet, in such a short time, he'd managed to earn a great deal of hatred from my colleagues. They gossiped about him endlessly in the back galley.
They said he never spoke a word or made a single demand. He'd just sit there, looking calm and cool in his suit, reading the newspapers or working on his laptop. Sometimes he'd just nap.
However.
Though he never showed any hint of being pleased or annoyed, Charles Kosonen always left a complaint—no matter how perfectly my colleagues delivered the service routine!
Now, normally something like that was enough to make me wanna flip a table and start worrying about my scorecard.
But as I prepared for the return flight, my brain was still too numb from learning that Niklas was cheating on me with Marja to even panic properly.
So I did what I always did: put on that practiced smile and ran through the fifty steps of the VVIP service routine in my head.
First thing first—the easiest step: Greet the VVIP with your brightest, warmest smile.
I stood waiting at the front door with the purser. Five minutes after we called for boarding, Charles Kosonen appeared before any other passenger.
He looked more handsome in person than in the photos I'd seen of him on the news, but also more... intimidating.
Silver hair. Bright, piercing silver eyes. Black tailored fit suit. Shiny leather shoes. Expression so cold it screamed—don't talk to me or I'll ruin your life.
When he boarded the plane, he simply passed us by without a glance. Then he went straight to his seat, sat down, pulled out his laptop and started working—his carry on bags left blocking the aisle.
My impression of him dropped from ten to zero at once.
I headed down the aisle with a smiley face and graciously lifted them both into the overhead compartment like a diligent newbie flight attendant I was.
Good thing my 9cm heels didn't snap halfway through—both bags were so heavy I almost thought the guy had put nothing but gold bars inside.
Before I could returned to the galley to prepare the welcome drinks, Charles's voice came.
"Wait."
I froze.
Slowly, I turned around.
I lowered myself to one knee before him, looking up with my brightest smile. "Yes, Mr. Kosonen? What can I do for you?" I asked.
"Your name is Kaija?"
The question somewhat startled me.
Usually, I'd introduce myself when I served the welcome drinks. He must have caught my name on the name tag. I just didn't think he would care enough to even notice that.
"Yes, Mr. Kosonen," I replied. "I'm Kaija. I'll be serving you on this flight today. Is there anything I could help you with?"
Charles didn't say anything for a while. He kept staring down at me with those piercing silver eyes of his.
I held my breath for as long as he stayed silent.
Then, in a low, steely voice, he asked,
"Kaija, do you have a boyfriend?"