Chapter 95 Planning Forward
CHAPTER NINTEY FIVE
Stefan’s POV~
Life with Natasha shifted into full engagement mode after I proposed, and we spent most evenings at her apartment, sorting through wedding details. Her place was cozy, with a small dining table covered in papers and her laptop open to websites about venues and rings.
I sat across from her one night, sipping coffee while she scrolled through options for a ring engraver. The screen glowed, showing fancy fonts and designs. “This one’s nice,” she said, pointing to a cursive style. “We could put our initials inside. What do you think?”
I leaned over, glancing at it. “Looks good,” I said. “Simple but personal.”
She nodded, clicking to save it. “Okay, that’s settled. Now, the guest list. We need to invite the board cause I mean, it’s good for business. Helix will look stronger with them there.”
“Yeah, makes sense,” I agreed, but my voice felt flat. I took another sip of coffee, staring at the table. Natasha was all in, her excitement filling the room as she typed names into a spreadsheet.
I wanted to match her energy, but my mind kept drifting to Valenticia. The way she looked at the signing event, her forced smile when I told her about the engagement. It stayed with me, a quiet ache I couldn’t shake.
“Stefan, you okay?” Natasha asked, looking up from her laptop. “You’re quiet tonight.”
“Just tired,” I said, forcing a smile. “Long day at Helix. New project deadlines are piling up.”
She reached over, touching my hand. “You work too hard. Let’s take a break tomorrow, maybe check out that venue I found? It’s got a garden, perfect for spring.”
“Sure,” I said. “Book it.” She smiled and went back to her list, but I felt detached, like I was going through the motions. Life with Natasha was easy. We shared work calls, dinners where we talked about clients or laughed over small things. It felt comfortable, like a routine I could count on. But part of me wondered if comfort was enough, if this was what I really wanted or just a safe choice after everything with Valenticia.
The next evening, we sat down again, this time with takeout pizza on the table. Natasha pulled up a spreadsheet of caterers. “Italian or fusion?” she asked, biting into a slice. “I’m leaning Italian—keeps it classic.”
“Italian’s fine,” I said, grabbing a slice. “Everyone likes pasta.” My mind wandered again, back to that dinner with Valenticia at Luigi’s. We’d laughed over pasta too, talking about old times, and for a moment it felt like we could rebuild something. But then I’d told her about Natasha, and her face was calm but hurt, which made me question everything. Was I happy with Natasha, or just settling because it was easier?
“Earth to Stefan,” Natasha said, waving a hand. “You’re zoning out again. Thinking about work?”
“Yeah, sorry,” I lied. “The sensor deal’s keeping me busy. Clawford’s pushing for faster delivery.”
She nodded, understanding. “You and Valenticia closed that deal fast. She’s tough—runs a tight ship.”
I swallowed, hearing her name. “Yeah, she does.” I didn’t say more, and Natasha moved on, talking about table settings. I nodded along, but my thoughts stayed on Valenticia.
Our contract marriage started as a plan to stay safe during the Galden mess, but it turned real for me, the late nights planning, her hand brushing mine, her trust when things got scary. Letting her go was supposed to be right, but now I wasn’t sure.
A few days later, we visited a bakery to taste cakes. The shop smelled like sugar and vanilla, with samples lined up on a counter. Natasha tried a lemon cake and grinned. “This is it,” she said, holding out a forkful. “Try it, Stefan.”
I took a bite, nodding. “It’s good. Let’s go with that.” She laughed, smearing a bit of frosting on her finger and joking about saving it for the wedding. Her excitement pulled me in, and I smiled, caught up in the moment. “You’re really into this,” I said.
“Of course,” she said, picking a chocolate sample next. “It’s our day. I want it perfect.” She fed me another bite, and we laughed when I got crumbs on my shirt. For a second, I felt happy, like this could work.
Natasha was fun, smart, and we made a great team. But as we left the bakery, her hand in mine, my mind slipped back to Valenticia. I saw her face again, the way she said “congratulations” like it hurt her. It made me wonder if I’d rushed into this with Natasha.
Back at work, a call came in from a client about the sensor project. “Stefan, we need those units by March,” the client said over the phone. “Can Helix deliver?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “We’re coordinating with Clawford now. You’ll have them on time.” Hanging up, I thought about Valenticia running her side of the deal. She was all business, sharp and focused, but I remembered her softer side—laughing in safehouses, planning with me under pressure. Natasha was steady, but Valenticia had a spark I couldn’t forget.
That night, I sat alone in my condo, the ring box on the coffee table. Natasha had left it there after showing me the engraving sample. I opened it, staring at the diamond. It was beautiful, perfect for her. We’d built something good: work, life, a future. Marrying her made sense for Helix, for stability. She was excited, already planning dresses and music. I wanted to feel the same, to be all in like she was.
But Valenticia’s face kept coming back. The signing event played in my head—her tight smile, the way she walked away after I told her. I’d hurt her, even if she hid it well. Part of me wanted to call her, explain that Natasha was a choice for the future, not a replacement. But what would that fix? I’d made my decision and asked Natasha to marry me. It was logical, good for business, good for me. So why did it feel like I was letting something slip away?
I closed the ring box and leaned back on the couch. Natasha texted me then, a photo of a venue with a note: “This place tomorrow? 2 p.m.?” I typed back, “Looks great. I’m in.” But as I set the phone down, mixed feelings churned inside.
Natasha was my future, Valenticia was my past, and every memory of her made me question if safe was what I really wanted.