From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 202

**TITLE: Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**
**Chapter 202**

**Chapter 121: One Half Of Me**

The plates crashed into the sink with a clatter that echoed through the kitchen, louder than I intended. The sound reverberated like a discordant symphony, slicing through the heavy atmosphere.

“Go home, Penelope.” I kept my gaze fixed on the soapy water, unwilling to meet her eyes. The edge in my voice was sharper than the jagged porcelain pieces that lay scattered at the bottom of the basin. “You’ve said enough.”

“Have I?” Her reflection stared back at me from the darkened window, her eyes filled with a challenge that made my stomach churn. “Why won’t you speak of her? Why does my sister’s name haunt you?”

Her words struck a nerve I had painstakingly sealed off for years. I inhaled deeply, letting the air fill my lungs slowly, trying to steady the tumult of emotions swirling inside me. Finally, I turned to her, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. “Penny, stop.” My voice wavered slightly, but I fought to inject calm into the storm brewing between us. “We had a good time tonight—great wine, good food. Now you need to go. We’ll talk tomorrow when things are clearer.”

She shrugged off my hand as if it were a weight she could easily discard. “You talk about that Savannah girl all the time. Sav this, Sav that. You’re obsessed. You dissect every detail, every move she makes.” Her voice trembled, yet she pressed on, relentless. “I walked in on you, Roman, with your hand down her knickers, devouring her like she was the very air you breathe. You were never that way with my sister, were you?”

I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, trying to block out the vivid image her words conjured.

“I just don’t understand it,” she continued, her voice shaky but determined. “How can you fall in love again, and now fall harder than when it was real?”

My jaw clenched, frustration boiling beneath the surface. “My love for Savannah is real. And I will not discuss my private life with you, Penelope. Now, go.”

She stood her ground, arms crossed defiantly, her feet planted like roots. “No. I’m not going.”

I turned away, counting silently to three in my mind to maintain my composure. “You are going to leave. You’re being unbearable, and I simply don’t want to deal with this right now.”

“Let’s talk about my sister, Roman,” she insisted, her voice slicing through my fragile calm. “Let’s talk about Dahlia for once. Not Sav. Let’s talk about your daughter—Naomi. Let’s talk about all the people you lost.”

I froze, the air thickening around us.

Her words pierced through the defenses I had built, striking at the core of my grief.

“Why does it feel like you’ve tried so hard to erase that part of you?” she pressed, her tone both accusatory and curious. “Screwing a widower isn’t appealing to Sav? What did my sister do to make you wipe your entire being clean of her? What, Roman? I’m genuinely curious to know.”

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