From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 271

**Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**
**Chapter 271**

“No.” I interrupted her, my voice firm yet tinged with an edge of urgency. “He won’t mind. But you better come up with a reason that doesn’t sound like ‘I’m here to throw myself at Regter because you know how desperate I can be.’”

Alyssa tilted her head, her brows furrowing in contemplation. “Babysitting would’ve been the perfect excuse, but you guys don’t have any kids yet.” She pointed dramatically, as if unveiling a grand revelation.

That single word—kids—hit me like a whisper in the dark, echoing in the corners of my mind. My hand instinctively drifted to my stomach, a gentle, almost unconscious reflex that I couldn’t quite comprehend. With everything that had been happening lately—Mom’s illness weighing heavily on my heart, the explosive fight with Roman, the turmoil surrounding Kingston, the unsettling truth about Uncle Jace being my father, and Reese’s unpredictable presence—I had completely pushed aside the conversation Roman and I had been avoiding. The one that loomed over us like a storm cloud, the one about babies and the future we had yet to carve out together.

I couldn’t continue living this way, in a state of perpetual uncertainty. This wasn’t the life I had envisioned for myself.

“Sav?” Alyssa’s voice sliced through my spiraling thoughts, pulling me back to reality. “You okay?”

I blinked, forcing a smile that felt more like a mask than a genuine expression. “Yeah. Just zoned out for a sec.”

But Lizzie, with her keen eyes, had already zeroed in on where my hand rested. Her mouth dropped open in shock. “Oh my God, Sav, are you pregnant?”

Alyssa’s head whipped around, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Wait, what?”

Heat surged up my neck, and suddenly I felt as if the spotlight had been thrust upon me, surrounded by a crowd of a thousand, all waiting for me to deliver the biggest flop of the century.

“I—uh—no,” I stammered, my voice faltering. “I mean, I don’t know.”

Alyssa’s hand found its way to my thigh, warm and reassuring, grounding me in this whirlwind of emotions. “Have you checked?”

I nodded slowly, the memory of that moment flashing through my mind. “A few weeks back. It was negative. But I was on the pill then. So I don’t know.”

“Oh, that explains it,” she replied, a half-grin spreading across her face. “Still, you should test again. Pills can fail. And your hormones have been all over the place lately.”

Lizzie adjusted her glasses, her eyes narrowing as if she were scrutinizing me under a microscope. “Come to think of it… you do look different.”

I groaned, feeling a wave of annoyance wash over me. “Please don’t start.”

“I’m serious,” she insisted, crossing her arms defiantly. “You’re glowing. And you’ve been really moody. Poor Reese is catching all your temper swings. Classic pregnancy symptoms.”

I dug my nails into my thighs, trying to suppress the rising tide of anxiety. “You’re not funny.”

Yet her words burrowed into my mind, unsettling me. Glowing. Moody. Temper swings.

My heart began to race, a slow, nervous thump echoing in my chest.

My period. When had it last come?

I mentally flipped through the past few weeks like a book I didn’t want to finish. Mom’s chemotherapy sessions. Roman’s explosive argument with Fanny. The press invading our lives. The endless tension that hung in the air. Sleepless nights filled with worry. And then, like a cold wave crashing over me, it struck with clarity.

My period was late.

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