From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 155

**Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**

**Chapter 155**

38%

“Savannah?” My mother’s voice sliced through the air, and then—silence enveloped the room.

I turned slowly, my heart racing, only to realize the pregnancy test had slipped from my trembling fingers. It lay on the floor, a stark reminder of my secret, glaring up at her like an accusation.

Her expression shifted instantly, hardening into something unyielding. There was no hint of warmth, no glimmer of understanding. Just the cold, unfeeling steel of her gaze. With two delicate fingers, she picked it up, treating it as if it were the most repulsive filth.

By the time dinner rolled around, the entire household was aware of my shame.

**Present…**

Back in the present, Roman’s face contorted in a mix of disbelief and concern, yet he remained silent. His quietness felt like a storm brewing, worse than any scream. It pushed me to continue, to unravel the tangled threads of my past.

“When Dad found out,” I said, my voice hoarse and fragile, “I thought maybe this time he’d finally believe me. That the truth would be too glaring to dismiss. I had hoped he would see that I wasn’t fabricating a story. But he didn’t.”

A bitter laugh escaped my lips, the taste of salt mingling with the tears that threatened to spill over.

“He slapped me so hard across the face that I saw stars. Then he bellowed those words at me: ‘Whose bastard are you carrying?’”

**Flashback…**

The memory surged forth, a wildfire consuming me.

I stood in the kitchen, clutching the test like a lifeline. My mother had already placed it on the counter, a piece of damning evidence against me. The door swung open, and Dad stormed in, his face flushed with rage, his jaw clenched so tightly it seemed ready to crack.

“Is this true?” he barked, his voice like thunder rumbling through the storm clouds.

I nodded, my body shaking, my eyes brimming with tears. “Yes. But Dad—”

Before I could finish, the sound erupted—a crack so sharp it echoed through the room. Pain exploded across my cheek, hot and searing. My head snapped sideways, my hair sticking to my lip gloss, a sticky reminder of the moment.

“Whose bastard are you carrying?” he roared, spittle flying from his lips like daggers.

“My—my professor—”

“Liar!” His palm came down again, a second blow that felt like a betrayal.

My mother stood there, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her lips pressed into a thin, unforgiving line.

**Present…**

The walls reverberated with his fury, but what lingered in my mind was the image of Chloe peeking through the doorway. Her wide eyes, mouth agape in shock. She didn’t utter a single word; she simply turned and fled.

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