From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 180

**TITLE: Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**
**Chapter 180**

**Chapter 109: Insanely In Love**

Savannah

林念37%

Anyone observing me right now would likely label me as utterly insane. Why on earth am I bouncing around my office, humming an old Disney tune, on a sweltering Monday afternoon?

It’s peculiar, I admit.

I can feel the curious gazes of my coworkers piercing through the cubicle walls, their heads turning as they try to catch a glimpse of my antics from various angles. I can almost hear the whispers, the silent judgments swirling around me. Yet, you know what? I couldn’t care less. Let them think I’ve lost my mind. Because the truth is, I am—absolutely, undeniably—insanely in love.

Joy radiates through me.

I feel content, fulfilled, and utterly satisfied. I’m in love with someone who reciprocates those feelings, someone who would move mountains just to see me smile. My dreams have transformed from mere fantasies into vivid realities.

It’s been a week—just seven days—since Roman confessed his love for me, and every single day since has been a whirlwind of enchantment. He has whisked me away on romantic dates, surprised me with beautiful flowers, strolled hand-in-hand with me through the park, holding my hand as if it were the most precious treasure in the world. He’s been the epitome of a gentleman—well, at least until the bedroom door closes behind us—and the best… what is he? Boyfriend? Fiancé?

Oh, these labels are driving me crazy. I can’t even define what we are at this point. But honestly? I don’t care. We are simply a man and a woman, hopelessly intertwined in love, and that is more than enough for me.

We don’t need to label our connection.

Yet, outside this little bubble of happiness, the world continues to spin, and it isn’t all sunshine and Disney melodies. It feels profoundly odd to carry such immense joy on a day when the world is mourning someone I can’t help but despise.

A twinge of guilt flits through my mind, but it quickly dissipates.

Today marks the funeral of Asher Kingston, and no, I won’t be attending. Instead, I’ll be celebrating.

At first, I considered going. I thought about witnessing the man who had the audacity to whisper degrading words in my ear while he shattered my world. I wanted to see his smug, malevolent eyes close for good.

I imagined myself dancing, downing an entire bottle of alcohol, letting loose. I envisioned getting loud, dancing, singing, crying—then dancing and singing some more.

It felt like a victory. Justice had finally been served for the younger version of me, the one whose innocence was stolen away.

I am intensely happy.

Morbid? Perhaps. But if there’s ever an exception to the rule of not laughing at a funeral, it’s certainly at the funeral of the man who took so much from me.

I know his death won’t erase the scars he left behind. It won’t change how he made me feel about myself. But today marks the end of that chapter in my life.

He can’t hurt me anymore. He can’t reach me from the grave. I’m no longer that vulnerable twenty-one-year-old college girl he preyed upon. I am a strong, grown woman now, fully aware of my worth.

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