The Duty Behind His Proposal

Prologue — Katerina

“What about the baby?”

There are moments when life throws you a ball so far out of left field that your brain simply refuses to catch up.

We had planned a low-key New Year’s Eve with my fiancé’s family.

Trent seemed to have been under immense stress lately, behaving differently.

I first noticed the shift in him about three months ago.

At first, it felt sweet; I even attributed his sudden proposal to it, completely taking me off guard.

But over the last few weeks, that endearing attentiveness morphed into something suffocating, and in the past few days he has seemed agitated with me.

But for the life of me, I couldn't figure out the reason.

I thought a quiet night with his family would ease the tension. I was wrong.

Even before we arrived, he questioned my outfit with an almost manic edge, and then once we got to his parents' home, he tracked my plate at the charcuterie board and physically swiped certain items out of my reach.

I am a pretty even-keeled person; I let most things go by because I know what truly matters.

But my fiancé was testing my patience… and then, when his cousin handed me a glass of champagne, Trent practically growled, snatching the flute before I could take a sip.

Stepping into the kitchen was meant to give us both space.

I took a few minutes to breathe, and while I was at it, I poured myself a whiskey.

I pasted a cheerful smile on my face determined not to let whatever this was ruin my night, and stepped back into the living room, rocks glass in hand, to find Trent standing mid-room, a flush creeping up his neck and turning his skin a mottled, dark crimson.

He stomped forward, lunging for my glass.

When I jerked back, his hand hit my wrist, sending the glass and its contents shattering onto the floor.

“What about the baby?” he yelled.

His anger radiated across the room as I stood frozen, paralyzed by his words and actions.

What baby?

Trent huffed, shoving a hand behind his neck and squeezing the muscle, a dead giveaway that his mind was spinning out of control. His dark brown eyes locked onto mine; the same eyes that were once warm were now cold.

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

My throat locked. Words usually came easily to me, but the air felt thin, squeezed out of the room by the sudden silence around us.

“What are you talking about?” I finally managed.

“The baby!” he screeched.

I flinched and then took an involuntary step back. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Trent rolled his eyes, a bitter sneer twisting his mouth. “You know... I thought you were just nervous about us, because we had never talked about a future together. I thought proposing would give you reassurance.”

The floor seemed to tilt beneath my feet. A sudden, sharp spike of adrenaline sent my pulse hammering against my ribs. Reassurance? Of what?

That foreboding feeling of impending emotional turmoil was nagging me, a feeling I didn't normally ignore because it was usually correct.

“I tried to be patient,” Trent snapped, pacing the room.

“I didn’t push when you kept working out, or kept up your strict diet.

I trusted you knew what was safe, even though the fear ramped up because you weren’t gaining weight…

I told myself you’re smart, you know your body. But alcohol, Kat? You couldn’t wait?”

I gasped.

His mother reached out, trying to catch his arm. “Trent, honey…”

Gideon stepped up beside his twin, trying to pull his brother back, but Trent shoved him off.

I held out a trembling hand, trying to bridge the widening gap opening between us. “Trent, stop. I don’t know what you’re talking about. What baby?”

He spun on me, his breathing ragged. “I saw the fucking test in your bathroom garbage, Kat! Don’t play stupid!”

Heat surged into my face, snapping through the paralysis. “I’m not playing anything! I’m not pregnant!”

His eyes widened, flaring with a manic realization that made my stomach drop. He stepped forward, grabbing my wrist in a grip tight enough to leave a mark. “Is it not mine? Did you cheat on me?”

Gasps echoed around the room.

“Were you going to pass off someone else’s kid as mine?” Trent growled, ripping his hand away as if touching me burned him. “Or did you get rid of it so I wouldn't find out?”

I had never experienced the feeling of being sucker-punched, but I imagined it felt exactly like Trent’s vicious words delivered to my heart.

“Fuck you, Trent!”

The words tore out of my throat before I could stop them. I wrenched myself back, putting distance between us.

“I am not pregnant, I have never been pregnant, and fuck you for even suggesting I cheated on you!”

“I saw the test!” he roared, clenching and unclenching his fists. “That's the whole reason I asked you to marry me!”

The world went entirely still. Like all the air had been sucked out of the room, and what was left was a deafening silence.

The chest pain returned, striking so hard and deep it felt like a torn intercostal muscle, cutting off my breath.

All those months. All the sweet gestures.

The sudden desperation in his eyes when he slid the ring onto my finger.

I had convinced myself he had fallen hopelessly in love with me, that he was showing it through actions rather than words.

I stared at him, my voice barely a whisper. “What did you just say?”

His father called his name, but Trent ignored him, his jaw set in stubborn rage. “I thought I was doing the right thing. Stepping up. I proposed because you were carrying my child.”

A ragged sob clawed its way up my throat. I couldn't look at his parents. I couldn't look at Gideon. They were his family. The people I thought were becoming my family.

“I thought you proposed because you loved me,” I whispered.

The anger in Trent’s eyes flickered for a fraction of a second. He blinked, looking like himself again. But he didn't say a word. He didn't deny it.

ohhhh

I wiped a rogue tear from my cheek, a harsh laugh escaping me as the pieces crashed into place.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” I looked at him, really looked at him, through a lens stripped clean of every delusion. “You never fell in love with me. You were attentive because you thought I was carrying your baby... You proposed out of obligation. Not because you loved me.”

Trent’s voice lost its aggression, softening into quiet desperation. “I saw the test, Katerina. Just confess.”

I scanned the room. Shock and pity stared back at me from every familiar face, while extended family members tried their best to look away.

“I don’t know how a test ended up in my bathroom, but it wasn’t mine,” I said, looking Trent dead in the eyes. “If I were pregnant, I would have told you. I never cheated. And when I eventually have a family with the right man, I know I'll be a wonderful mother.”

Trent flinched as if struck. I watched the truth sink into his expression, layer by painful layer. The moment his mouth opened to speak, I turned my back.

I gathered my coat and bag, my movements sharp and methodical. Voices called after me, but I tuned them out. Putting on my boots felt like an impossible task with my hands shaking and desperately trying to keep myself together.

After I finished dressing, I walked back through the living room and found Gideon physically holding a pale, shaken Trent back. Cynthia, Trent’s mother, was crying quietly.

“Thank you for having me, Mrs. Prescott,” I said, keeping my voice steady through sheer willpower. “I’m leaving. Happy New Year.”

“Kat, wait… please!” Trent panicked, straining against his brother.

I offered one final, solemn look.

“Goodbye, Trent.”

I walked out into the freezing night air. Behind me, something heavy crashed against the inside of the door, but I didn't stop. I didn’t let my car warm up; I had to get out of there because I didn't think I could take much more.

I made it all the way home, ignoring the violent buzzing of my phone in the cup holder. It wasn't until I pulled into my driveway, staring at the flashing New Year's notifications lighting up my screen, that I finally collapsed against the steering wheel and let myself break.