Chapter 94 A Proposal’s Weight
CHAPTER NINTEY FOUR
Stefan’s POV~
It happened a week before the big signing event with Clawford, at a quiet restaurant downtown called Bella Vita. The place had dim lights, small tables with candles, and soft music in the background. Natasha sat across from me, her dark hair loose, wearing a simple green dress. We’d been working late at Helix, closing a deal, and decided to grab dinner to unwind. As we ate, I kept thinking about how steady she’d always been there for meetings, quick with solutions, making my life easier after the mess with Valenticia ended.
Over plates of lasagna, we started talking about the future. “Helix is growing fast,” Natasha said, cutting a bite. “The new wearable line’s going to put us ahead. You’re killing it, Stefan.”
I smiled, sipping my water. “We’re killing it. You’ve been key on every contract this year.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Team effort. But seriously, where do you see us in a year? More deals? Bigger office?”
Her question caught me off guard. I set my glass down, my mind racing. I’d been thinking about stability lately, something solid after the chaos of the Galden days and the split with Valenticia. Natasha made sense. She fit into my life, our work, our goals. Marrying her could tie it all together, make Helix stronger, and maybe quiet the part of me that still thought about Valenticia. I took a breath, feeling the ring box in my pocket. I’d bought it days ago, not sure when I’d use it, but now it felt right.
“Natasha,” I said, leaning forward, “we’ve built something strong, you and me. Not just at work, but us. I want to keep building it.” I pulled out the small velvet box and opened it, the diamond catching the candlelight. “Will you marry me?”
Her eyes widened, and she froze for a second; her fork froze halfway to her mouth. Then she smiled, big and real. “Stefan, yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.” She reached across the table, took my hand, and squeezed it. “I didn’t see this coming tonight.”
I laughed, sliding the ring onto her finger. “Good surprise, then?”
“The best,” she said, looking at the ring. “We’re going to be unstoppable.”
We finished dinner, talking about small things, like her favorite dessert, a trip we might take. She was excited, already mentioning a spring wedding. I nodded along, happy to see her happy, but part of my mind wandered to Valenticia.
I remembered her face at safehouses, the way she planned with me, her laugh when we got through a tough night. Proposing to Natasha felt logical, like the right move for my life now, but a small piece of me wondered if I was letting go of something I shouldn’t.
Days later, at the signing event for the sensor deal with Clawford, I had to tell Valenticia. The conference room was packed with teams from both companies, press snapping photos, and applause after every speech. Valenticia looked sharp in her navy blazer, her voice steady as she spoke about the partnership. I watched her, remembering our dinner at Luigi’s, how easy it felt to laugh with her again. When I pulled her aside to tell her about Natasha, her face changed just for a second, but I saw it. A flicker of shock, maybe hurt, before she forced a smile.
“Valenticia, can we talk?” I said, leading her to a quiet corner by the windows. “Before we announce more, there’s something personal.”
She looked confused, her eyes searching mine. “Personal? Here?”
I nodded, feeling my throat tighten. Natasha walked over then, her hand slipping into mine, the ring obvious. Valenticia’s gaze dropped to it, and her face froze. I pushed forward, needing to get it out. “Valenticia, Natasha, my fiancée. We got engaged last week. It makes sense for our lives, our companies. I wanted you to hear it from me.”
Her smile was tight, but she kept it together. “Congratulations,” she said, her voice even. “That’s great news.”
Natasha smiled back, her grip on my hand firm. “Thank you,” she said. “We’re excited. It’s a big step.”
I watched Valenticia closely, seeing the effort it took for her to stay calm. “I didn’t want it to catch you off guard,” I said. “After our history, I owed you that.”
“Appreciate it,” she said, stepping back. “Really happy for you both.” But her eyes didn’t match her words, and it hit me hard—regret mixed with relief. I’d closed a door, but seeing her hurt made me question if it was the wrong one. She walked away, joining her team, and I stood there, Natasha’s hand still in mine, wondering what I’d just done.
The next few days were a blur of engagement planning. One morning, Natasha and I sat at her apartment, laptops open, with coffee cups steaming on the table. She scrolled through venue photos on a website. “This place has a garden,” she said, turning the screen to me. “Perfect for spring. What do you think?”
“Looks nice,” I said, nodding. “Good for photos.”
She laughed. “You’re hopeless with details. Okay, I’ll book a tour. Invitations next—classic white or something bold?”
“White’s fine,” I said, sipping my coffee. She was excited, jotting notes about guest lists and caterers. I smiled, trying to match her energy, but my thoughts kept drifting. Valenticia’s face at the signing event stayed with me—her forced smile, the way she walked away. I wondered what she was doing now, if she was okay. Our history—the contract marriage, the nights hiding from Gregor—felt so far away, but it still pulled at me. Natasha was here, real, planning a life with me. Why couldn’t I let go of the past?
“Stefan, you listening?” Natasha asked, waving a hand. “I said we need to invite the board. It’s good for business.”
“Yeah, definitely,” I said, focusing. “Add them. Maybe some key clients, too.”
She nodded, typing fast. “This is going to be perfect. You’re okay with a big wedding, right?”
“Sure,” I said, but my voice felt flat. I wanted to be all in, but part of me wasn’t. Natasha didn’t notice, already moving to table settings. I thought about our life together—work meetings, shared dinners, her laugh when we tested new tech. It was easy, comfortable. Marrying her would tie our companies closer, make things stable. But every time I pictured the future, Valenticia slipped into my thoughts—her strength, her fire, the way she looked at me like she saw everything.
Later that week, we visited a bakery to taste cakes. Natasha tried a lemon flavor and grinned. “This one’s it,” she said, holding out a forkful. “Try it.”
I took a bite, nodding. “Yeah, it’s good.” Her excitement pulled me in, and I laughed as she smeared frosting on her finger, joking about saving it for the wedding. For a moment, I was present, happy.
But alone that night, I sat in my condo, the ring box on my table. I opened it, staring at the diamond. It was the right choice—Natasha was the right choice. So why did I keep thinking about Valenticia? Her hurt face, the way she said “congratulations” like it cost her something. I wondered if I’d made a mistake, if I’d closed the wrong door for good.