From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 225

**Chapter 225: I’m Awake Now**

With a firm grip on the two delicate wine glasses and the crinkling take-out bag, I storm back to the bedroom, my heart racing like a wild drum. Each step I take reverberates through the floor, sending vibrations up my legs. The bag’s edges dig into my palm, the mingled scents of wine and garlic wafting up to my nose, a reminder of the evening that had spiraled into chaos.

Anger ignites within me, a fierce blaze that feels almost intoxicating. My fingers tremble around the fragile stems of the glasses, and I can feel my heartbeat echoing in my throat, heavy and insistent. How dare he think he can sneak around behind my back and still sleep soundly? He is sorely mistaken.

The hallway is dimly lit, but I spot the soft glow spilling out from beneath the bedroom door, illuminating my path. My pulse quickens, pushing me to move faster, urgency fueling my steps.

With a swift kick, I shove the door open, and it crashes against the wall with a resounding bang that shatters the silence of the house. Roman bolts upright in bed, his tousled hair catching the muted light of the bedside lamp, blinking as if he’s just emerged from a dream, confusion clouding his features.

“Sav…?” he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep, as though he’s struggling to comprehend my presence. I wish this moment were a dream for him, but it’s all too real.

I march toward him, the glasses trembling in my grip, my skin feeling constricted, as if my anger is pressing against every inch of me. “Wake the fuck up, Roman!” I shout, my voice slicing through the air like a knife.

He’s still caught in the haze of sleep, but as my words sink in, his eyes sharpen, confusion melting into concern, a frown etching itself between his brows. “Savannah?”

“I said, wake the fuck up!” I repeat, the urgency in my voice rising like a tide. “Or I swear to God, I’ll start breaking things!”

“Jesus Christ, I’m awake now,” he mutters, finally sitting up. The sheet slips down his bare chest, revealing the smooth contours of his shoulders, and I can’t help but notice how vulnerable he looks in that moment.

“What’s wrong—”

His gaze drops to the glasses and the bag I’m clutching, and he freezes, his expression faltering, lips parting slightly in disbelief. “Sav, it’s not what you think, okay?”

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