From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 230

**TITLE: Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**
**Chapter 230**

Who am I really trying to fool? The truth is, the man probably doesn’t even want to be with me anymore. Not when I behave like this, not when I allow my fears to creep into every single argument we have. The thought alone sends a sharp pang through my chest, a reminder of how fragile everything feels.

I clasp my hands together tightly, my fingers pressing into my palms as I gaze out the window. The morning has grown late, and golden rays of sunlight slice through the glass, casting soft, warm lines across the table where I sit. It’s almost comical how long I’ve been here, lost in thought—almost an hour, staring blankly into the void.

After four days of suffocating silence, I could no longer bear the oppressive walls of my home. So, I made the drive down to New Hope. I told myself it was to visit Mom, but in truth, it was a desperate attempt to find a breath of fresh air, to escape the stifling atmosphere that had become my life.

“Savannah?”

A voice jolts me back to reality, pulling me from my reverie.

Alyssa stands there, brandishing a bottle of water as if it were a weapon. “Are you okay? You’ve been staring into space and gnawing on your nails like a total lunatic.”

I blink, momentarily disoriented. “Was I really?”

She smirks, playfully tapping my shoulder. “Ow!” I hiss, feigning injury.

“Good. That means you’re alive,” she replies, her grin a mixture of annoyance and affection, a familiar sight that both comforts and irritates me.

Before I can muster a response, Lizzie’s voice drifts in from the corner of the room. “Don’t you see the signs, Alyssa? It’s clearly a lovers’ spat.”

I roll my eyes, instantly regretting my decision to come back to New Hope. Between Alyssa’s bluntness and Lizzie’s razor-sharp sarcasm, I fear I might actually lose my mind.

We’re nestled in Mom’s hospital room, the air infused with the gentle scent of cappuccino mingling with the fragrance of flowers—Alyssa had brought a vibrant bouquet that now stands proudly in a vase. Mom reclines against her pillows, looking frailer than the last time I saw her, yet her smile remains unwavering.

Still, the silence surrounding Chloe is palpable. Not a single one of them has dared to mention her name. It’s strange, really. Perhaps they’re trying to shield her from painful memories or avoid triggering a wave of emotions.

The old Mom—the one before cancer—would have swiftly reprimanded Lizzie for her foul mouth, scolding her as if she were confronting the devil himself. But this version of my mother simply chuckles softly, a sound that feels almost foreign. It’s odd to witness her laughter over things that would have once drawn a frown from her.

I suppose that’s the nature of cancer. It forces you to slow down, to savor the fleeting moments. It has compelled Mom to find humor in the most vulgar of jokes. It smooths the rough edges, making you cherish every sound, even those that once grated on your nerves.

“Oh my God, you and Roman had a fight?” Alyssa gasps, her eyes wide with mock horror.

“Impossible,” Lizzie interjects, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “That man practically worships the ground you walk on. He even broke a guy’s arm for saying something nasty about you. If that’s not devotion, I don’t know what is.”

Mom’s expression shifts slightly—subtle yet noticeable. Her gaze flickers toward the door and then back to me, perhaps realizing that Roman hadn’t accompanied me as she had hoped.

I hadn’t told him I was coming. I simply packed a small basket, climbed into my car, and drove away. Maybe I was fleeing from the silence, or perhaps I just needed to inhale air that didn’t carry his scent.

“Savannah, dear, did you and Roman have a disagreement?” Mom’s voice is soft, almost tentative. She doesn’t want to intrude, but the concern is evident.

I look down at my hands, feeling the weight of her gaze. “It’s nothing, Mom. Just a minor disagreement. We’ll be fine,” I assure her, though the words feel hollow as they leave my lips.

Her brows furrow slightly. “But he’s not here with you. Did you tell him I wanted to see him?”

I cast my eyes downward, the truth heavy on my tongue. But the thought of seeing disappointment on her face makes lying feel like the easier option.

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