The Proposal
1264 Words
(Aspen’s POV)
When Henry asks me to meet him for dinner, I say yes.
It feels like the natural thing to do. We have been seeing each other regularly these last few weeks, and with the entire world already convinced we are getting married, meeting him for dinner hardly seems like a big event.
Still, something about his voice on the phone had sounded different.
Excited.
Almost nervous.
I push the thought away as I step out of the car and walk into the restaurant he texted me the address for.
The place is beautiful.
Tall glass windows overlook the river, and soft golden lights glow along the walls. Everything about the space feels elegant and romantic, the kind of restaurant that appears in engagement photos and anniversary posts.
A waiter greets me almost immediately.
“Miss Hart,” he says with a polite smile.
I blink slightly.
“Yes.”
“This way, please.”
He leads me past the main dining room, through a hallway, and toward the back of the building. I assume Henry must have reserved a private table.
But when the waiter opens the door leading to the outdoor terrace, I freeze.
Henry is kneeling in the center of the deck.
Behind him is a massive display of flowers and lights, with a sign glowing brightly above his head.
Will You Marry Me?
The words are enormous, spelled out in lights that sparkle against the evening sky.
My first thought is that it looks like something designed for i********:.
Or t****k.
Or one of those elaborate proposals people film so strangers online can cry over them.
It is beautiful.
It is dramatic.
And for some reason, it feels… a little tacky.
I immediately scold myself for the thought.
Henry clearly put an enormous amount of effort into this. The flowers alone must have taken hours to arrange. The lights, the music quietly playing in the background, the entire terrace transformed into a glowing romantic scene.
He did this for me.
The least I can do is be grateful.
Henry smiles when he sees me.
“Aspen,” he says warmly.
He remains on one knee.
My heels click softly against the wooden deck as I walk toward him.
I feel strangely aware of everything. The lights. The music. The way the river reflects the glow of the city skyline.
It feels like a performance.
A beautiful one.
Henry reaches for my hand gently.
“You came into my life in a moment I never expected,” he says softly. “You are strong, compassionate, and brave in ways most people will never understand.”
His eyes hold mine steadily.
“You changed my life.”
My chest tightens slightly.
“Aspen Carrington, will you marry me?”
The ring box opens in his hand.
Inside sits a massive diamond ring.
Five carats.
At least.
Even from where I stand, I can see the way it catches the light, sparkling brilliantly against the velvet cushion.
Henry watches my face carefully.
He is still kneeling.
Waiting.
The silence stretches.
I realize he is waiting for an answer.
I nod slowly.
“Yes.”
Henry’s entire face lights up with relief.
He slips the ring onto my finger, and it slides into place perfectly.
It is enormous.
The diamond feels heavy on my hand.
Too big.
Too flashy.
It does not feel like something that belongs to me.
For a brief moment my mind flashes back to another ring.
The one I saw months ago at Slade’s house in San Diego.
Simple.
Elegant.
Chosen with quiet care.
I shake the thought away immediately.
I cannot think about another man when my fiancé just proposed.
The moment I say yes, applause erupts around us.
I turn in surprise as people step onto the terrace from inside the restaurant.
Cheers echo across the deck.
I blink, stunned, as faces begin to register.
Holly.
Winter.
My cousins Ryan and Reese.
My grandfather.
My aunt and uncle.
Henry’s friends.
So many of them.
They begin congratulating us immediately.
Henry wraps an arm around my waist as people approach one after another.
“I knew she would say yes,” someone says.
“Congratulations!”
“You two are perfect together.”
I smile politely as I greet them, trying to remember names as Henry introduces people to me.
“This is Matteo.”
“This is Luca.”
“This is Andre.”
There are so many names.
So many faces.
And somehow I cannot seem to hold onto any of them.
Eventually I manage to slip away from the crowd long enough to reach Holly and Winter.
They are standing slightly apart from everyone else near the railing.
Neither of them look particularly excited.
“Where’s Pippa?” I ask quietly.
Holly snorts.
“She’s boycotting.”
Winter sighs.
“She thinks you made the wrong decision.”
I nod slowly.
That tracks.
The last time Pippa and I spoke about this, she had stormed out of the room halfway through the conversation.
She had refused to even discuss it.
My grandfather appears beside me then, placing a proud hand on my shoulder.
“I’m very proud of you,” he says warmly.
“You made the right choice.”
My aunt nods approvingly.
“You did good,” she adds.
Their approval feels heavy somehow.
As the evening continues, people keep congratulating us. Champagne appears. Laughter fills the terrace.
I try to enjoy it.
I really do.
But something feels… off.
I look around the crowd again.
None of my friends are here.
Not Pippa.
Not Mrs. Bigley.
Not anyone who actually knows me.
Only family.
Only Henry’s world.
Maybe he just didn’t know who to invite.
Maybe he does not really know my life well enough yet.
The thought lingers quietly in the back of my mind.
Maybe I rushed this.
I shake the thought away.
Henry approaches me again and presses a kiss to my cheek.
“I have something for you,” he says.
He hands me a small velvet box.
I open it carefully.
Inside is a stunning set of jewelry.
A diamond necklace.
Matching earrings.
A delicate bracelet.
They sparkle almost as brightly as the ring on my finger.
“It is from my family in Monaco,” Henry says proudly. “A gift for the newest member to be welcomed into our family.”
I force a smile.
“Thank you.”
I close the box gently.
I should feel excited.
I should feel happy.
Instead there is just a strange emptiness sitting in my chest.
Before I can dwell on it, another familiar voice cuts through the crowd.
“Well, look at this.”
Celeste.
She walks onto the terrace like she belongs here.
Her eyes flick toward Henry first.
“Congratulations,” she says smoothly.
Then she turns to me.
“Congratulations to you too, Aspen.”
I stare at her, unsure how to respond.
But she is not finished.
“I actually have some good news myself,” she adds lightly.
She places a hand over her stomach.
And rubs it slowly.
My heart stops.
My gaze drops instinctively to her abdomen.
Her smile widens.
“I’m pregnant.”
The words hit me like a physical blow.
My face drains of color.
A thousand thoughts race through my mind all at once.
Pregnant.
Celeste is pregnant.
But there is only one question that matters.
Who is the father?
Because if it is who I think it might be…
Everything just became a lot more complicated.
- Writer
