From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 251

**TITLE: Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**
**Chapter 251**

The heels were a perfect fit, just the right height—Roman had always been considerate of my less-than-stellar skills with stilettos. I took a few tentative steps, testing their balance, and caught a hint of my perfume wafting through the air. It was the fragrance infused with notes of jasmine and vanilla, the one that seemed to draw him in, making him lean a little closer every time I wore it. I spritzed a bit on my wrist, another touch behind my ear, and a final spray at the nape of my neck, ensuring that the scent would linger just enough to captivate him.

As I finished, the clock read precisely 7:58. My heart began to race, an instinctive reaction as if it sensed his imminent arrival.

And then came the knock—knock.

With a smile dancing on my lips, I turned toward the door. I grabbed my purse, sliding my phone inside, and took one last sweeping glance around the room. Everything was in place; nothing had been overlooked.

“I’m coming!” I called out, careful to maintain my balance in the heels as I approached the door. When I opened it, I felt my breath catch in my throat.

There he stood, a vision that seemed to have stepped right out of a dangerously alluring daydream. Dressed in sleek black pants and a midnight-blue shirt that clung perfectly to his frame, he looked impossibly refined. The sleeves were rolled up just enough to reveal the strong veins of his forearms, and his hair was slicked back with an effortless precision that accentuated the sharp lines of his face. A hint of stubble darkened his jaw, adding to his rugged charm.

He looked incredibly dashing, perfectly coordinated with me—neither overdressed nor underdressed, just right.

But it was his eyes that captivated me first. They roamed over me with a slow, reverent gaze, as if I were a masterpiece to be studied rather than simply admired.

“Wow,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, sending a delightful shiver down my spine. “You look… exquisite, my love.”

My breath hitched at the endearment. The words “my love” had a way of wrapping around my heart, no matter how often he uttered them.

“Thank you,” I replied softly, feeling a blush creep across my cheeks. “You don’t look bad yourself.”

He didn’t even flinch at my compliment. “Still not nearly as good as you,” he countered, his tone unwavering.

It was only then that I noticed the bouquet he was holding behind his back. He brought it forward, and my heart tightened at the sight.

Yellow tulips.

Not roses, not lilies—just tulips. Simple yet bright, and certainly not cliché. They had been my favorite flowers when I was younger, long before I had ever met him. I recalled mentioning them casually on a random day years ago, and the fact that he remembered made my throat constrict with emotion.

“They’re beautiful,” I said softly, taking them from his hands, feeling the delicate petals brush against my fingertips.

“You are,” he replied simply, his gaze unwavering.

I bit my lip, fighting the urge to melt under his intense stare. “You didn’t have to do all this, you know.”

“I did,” he insisted. “Because I wanted to. And because you deserve more than the ordinary.”

There it was again—that tone, the one that made it impossible to argue with him. I found myself gazing down at the tulips, my fingers tracing the soft petals.

“Thank you, Roman,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I love them.”

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