From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 120

**TITLE: Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**
**Chapter 120: From Best Friend To Fiancé**
**Chapter 77: You Never Asked**

Roman.

I should have seen this coming. In truth, it’s almost surprising that it took Savannah this long to confront me. Chloe, her sister—the one with the golden hair and the insufferable charm—has been leaving a trail of hints, sharp and toxic like breadcrumbs leading to a dark forest. And Savannah? She’s not the kind of person to let those go unnoticed. No, she’s a hawk, keen-eyed and perceptive, and I can feel the tension in the air thicken like a storm cloud ready to burst. I’ve felt like a man teetering on the edge of a precipice, just waiting for the inevitable moment when the question would pierce through the silence that has loomed over us, heavy and oppressive.

And now, here we are.

She stands before me, her expression resolute, her eyes searching mine for the truth. An expectant tension crackles between us, thick enough to cut. It’s as if she’s bracing herself for a lie, hoping for a version of the truth that wouldn’t shatter her understanding of the world.

But I can’t bring myself to deceive her. Not Savannah. Anyone else, perhaps, but never her.

Lies are like poison, insidious and slow, eroding the very foundation of trust until it crumbles. I’ve spun enough webs of deceit in my life to know that they always come back to ensnare you. It’s far better to bleed openly now than to be eviscerated later by the weight of unspoken truths.

“I met Chloe before I came down here,” I begin, my voice steady, though my heart races in my chest. “But I had no idea she was your sister.”

The air seems to rush from her lungs, as if I’ve dealt a blow with an invisible fist. Her fingers clutch the hood of the car, a desperate attempt to ground herself, as if her legs might betray her at any moment.

“Why?” Her voice trembles, a fragile thread woven through raw emotion. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You never asked.”

Her head snaps up, disbelief flooding her features. I brace myself, half-expecting an eruption—screams, accusations, perhaps even a slap. Anything would be easier than this stunned silence that feels like a betrayal wrapped in layers of quiet agony.

But she doesn’t explode.

Instead, she folds her arms, leaning against the car, her body curling inward in a way that feels almost serene. Too serene. That calmness cuts deeper than any rage could. It’s unsettling, a quiet storm brewing beneath the surface.

“I never asked,” she finally whispers, her voice barely audible, “because part of me didn’t want to confront it. Chloe despises me, Roman. She would twist any truth into a lie just to hurt me. But the other part…” She looks away, her throat constricting as she swallows hard. “The other part was terrified. Terrified of what I might uncover if I did ask.”

I tilt my head, watching her closely, careful not to push too hard. “And what were you afraid of?”

Savannah doesn’t hesitate. She never does. “I feared that maybe even my best friend had succumbed to my sister’s charms.”

Her words land like a physical blow, sharp and bitter. Yet she holds my gaze, daring me to flinch, to reveal any sign of weakness.

“You were wrong,” I reply, my voice firm, steady like a rock against the tide.

A small, hollow smile flickers across her lips, but it’s laced with bitterness. “Was I? If Chloe knew you, why didn’t she just say something back there? She could have humiliated me. She could have torn me apart in front of everyone. Why didn’t she?”

“Because she didn’t want to expose herself,” I snap, anger creeping into my tone. “There’s so much about your sister you don’t understand, Savannah.”

Her eyes harden, and before I can brace myself, she asks the question I’ve dreaded most. “Roman… Did you sleep with my sister?”

Those words stab at me like a knife, a visceral blow to my gut. She looks as if she might shatter if I hesitate too long, as if one misplaced syllable could break her entirely.

I could lie. Just one word, and I could make this vanish, at least for now. But no. Not with her.

“No.” My voice remains unwavering. “I did not have sex with your sister, Savannah.”

Her chest rises and falls, but there’s no relief in her expression, only a deepening cloud of doubt. “Are you lying to me now?” Her voice quakes, a fragile tremor that cuts through the air.

“Have I ever lied to you, my love?”

The question hangs between us, heavy and pregnant with meaning. She searches my face, dissecting every line, every twitch, as if she’s trying to unearth the truth buried deep within me. Slowly, she shakes her head. “No.” It’s barely a whisper. “But did you have any…?” Her voice trails off, breaking under the weight of her fear. She wraps her arms around herself, a protective gesture that makes my heart ache.

“Yes.” The word feels like lead, dragging itself from my throat. “I didn’t sleep with her, but she did get on her knees for me. Once.”

The sound she makes cuts me to the core. It’s a strangled gasp, half sob, half wretch. She covers her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide, and I can see her knees nearly buckle beneath her.

“Oh God. Oh dear God. I think I’m going to be sick,” she gasps, panic rising in her voice like a tide.

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