From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 228

**Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**
**Chapter 228**

HUZ

A laugh escaped her lips, a bitter sound that echoed in the stillness of the room as she ran her fingers through her hair, frustration evident in every movement. “I can’t believe I actually thought you’d be different,” she exclaimed, her voice tinged with disbelief and anger. With each word, she began to pace back and forth, her steps quickening as if trying to outrun the conversation.

“You can’t expect me to feel like the same person when you’re lying,” she accused, her tone sharp and cutting. “You make me feel like I’m losing my mind, Roman. Maybe that’s what you want—”

My heart felt like it shattered into a million pieces, the weight of her words pressing down on me. “What?” I stammered, struggling to comprehend the depth of her accusation.

She blinked rapidly, and for just a fleeting moment, I caught a glimpse of guilt flickering across her features, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

“Don’t twist this around,” she insisted, her voice firm, but the tremor beneath it betrayed her uncertainty.

“I’m not twisting anything,” I replied, my frustration bubbling to the surface. “You’re the one making something out of nothing.”

“Then why do you look so defensive?” she shot back, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized my expression.

“Because you’re accusing me of something vile!” The words escaped my lips with more force than I intended, but the hurt was too raw to contain.

She held my gaze, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “You looked scared, Roman. When I asked you about her. You looked terrified.”

“Because I knew it would come to this!” My voice cracked under the strain of my emotions. “The second that question left your mouth, I knew nothing I said would change your mind. You’d already made your decision.”

Her expression wavered, uncertainty creeping into her features.

“I knew,” I murmured, my voice dropping to a whisper, “that you didn’t completely trust me. That you never really did.”

“That’s not true,” she retorted, but the conviction in her voice faltered.

“Isn’t it?” I pressed, my heart racing. “You think I’m a liar. You think I’m just some kind of man whore who can’t stay faithful for even five minutes. Tell me that’s not what you think.”

She swallowed hard, the tension palpable in the air. “I just—”

“Say it, Savannah.”

She hesitated, her resolve crumbling. Instead, she murmured, “I just don’t want to feel like I trusted the wrong person.”

Those words struck me with the force of a physical blow, deeper than her earlier accusations. I stared at her, the woman I had loved so fiercely that I had envisioned a life together, and felt something within me fracture.

“Then don’t make me feel like I loved the wrong person again,” I said softly, the weight of my plea hanging in the air between us.

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, silence enveloped us, thick and suffocating.

I turned toward the door, feeling the need to escape the intensity of the moment.

“Roman,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, a tremor lacing her words. “Please don’t walk away.”

I kept my gaze fixed ahead, refusing to meet her eyes. “I’m not walking away. I’m just giving you space to think about what you just said. About what trust truly means.”

“Roman…”

She called my name again, this time so small, so fragile, that it cracked something deep inside me that I fought to conceal.

I opened the door slowly, my heart heavy. “Don’t follow me.”

The soft click of the door closing behind me felt too gentle for the storm brewing inside.

I sank down in the hallway, staring vacantly at the wall, my hands trembling slightly. Anger and hurt twisted inside me, a chaotic battle where I couldn’t tell which emotion was winning.

Through the door, I could still hear her, pacing restlessly, muttering under her breath, the sound of glass crunching beneath her slippers echoing in the silence.

I almost turned back.

Almost.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I made my way to the kitchen, grabbed a broom, and returned. When I opened the door again, I found her sitting on the bed, her head buried in her hands, looking so small and vulnerable.

As I stepped inside, she lifted her head, her eyes meeting mine. “Roman…”

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