From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 236

**TITLE: Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**

My heart felt as if it were being squeezed in a vice, the pressure so intense that I had to grasp the counter behind me for support. Penny had once been his sister-in-law? That revelation suddenly illuminated so much about their relationship. “What was her name?” I managed to ask, my voice barely above a whisper, trembling with the weight of the moment.

“Dahlia.” His voice softened, as if he were caressing a fragile memory. “Her name was Dahlia. She was Penelope’s twin.”

Twin.

The word echoed in my mind, a jarring realization that sent my thoughts spiraling. Not just sisters, but identical twins. They shared the same face, the same voice—two halves of a whole, forever intertwined.

Oh my God.

Suddenly, everything clicked into place. The way he looked at Penny, the way he spoke to her—it wasn’t desire that flickered in his eyes, but something far deeper, a current of familiarity that ran between them like an unbreakable thread.

Remembrance. Familiarity.

“How—how did I not know?” I exhaled, my breath hitching in my throat. “All this time, Roman? You let me meet her, talk to her, even argue with her—and you said nothing?” The accusation hung heavily in the air, a palpable tension between us.

He lifted his gaze, and I saw the storm of quiet pain swirling in his eyes. “It wasn’t something I wanted to discuss. I was terrified of losing you.”

My hands quivered at my sides, a mixture of anger and hurt bubbling within me. “You think that’s fair? You really believe I wouldn’t have understood?”

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if bracing himself against a wave of sorrow. “It’s not about fairness. It’s about pain. About fear.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but the words faltered on my lips. My heart raced so violently that it felt like a drumbeat echoing in my ears. “Where is she now?” I finally asked, the question slipping out before I could catch it. “Your ex-wife. Dahlia.”

His body went rigid, an eerie stillness enveloping him. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he replied, “She’s dead.”

Time seemed to freeze. The air around us felt thick, as if the very atmosphere was mourning alongside him.

“She died in a car crash,” he continued, his voice trembling as he recounted the painful memory. “We had an argument the night before. It escalated. She was six months pregnant, and the staff reported that she started bleeding at home. She called me, but I was in a meeting. I didn’t answer.”

His voice cracked, and I could see the anguish etched on his face. “She was terrified of driving. Always had been. She never took the wheel unless absolutely necessary. But that day, she got in the car anyway, determined to reach the hospital.” His eyes glistened with unshed tears. “She never made it.”

A quiet devastation settled in my chest.

“She lost control halfway there,” he whispered, the weight of his words suffocating. “The car flipped. They said no one could have survived that. But the baby… the baby in her womb did. She miraculously survived for a few days, and then…” He trailed off, pressing his hand against his mouth, as if even uttering her name was a form of punishment.

Tears burned my eyes, spilling over before I could summon the strength to hold them back. I instinctively took a step closer, yearning to comfort him, to bridge the chasm of grief that lay between us—but the tension in his posture warned me against it. The distance was not merely physical; it was a vast gulf carved from years of sorrow and guilt.

Now, I understood why he flinched whenever I broached his past. Why he dodged certain topics like they were landmines. Why he recoiled when things became too intense, too close to the pain he had buried so deeply.

It wasn’t that he didn’t love me enough; it was that he had already lost love once, and the grief had nearly consumed him.

“She said yes. And she told him she was scared of what he’d do if he found out.” A bitter chuckle escaped him, one that held no trace of humor. “I’ve never told Penny or anyone else this, but in those texts, my wife and my brother plotted to take me out if I ever discovered the truth.”

I gasped, the weight of his words crashing over me like a tidal wave. Suddenly, memories flooded back—the general’s words from that day he was here.

“I ordered you to make sure your brother’s wife stays put, Zachary. Not bed her. Again.”

It all clicked into place. They weren’t talking about me.

They were talking about Dahlia…

I stood there, frozen, feeling the world tilt beneath me. I was engulfed in a whirlwind of emotions—shock, betrayal, disbelief. A part of me wanted to laugh it off, to convince myself I had misheard. But I hadn’t. His silence was too profound, too heavy.

“To who?” I managed to ask, my throat constricted with disbelief.

He hesitated, the weight of the moment palpable, before finally saying, “Penny’s sister.”

The air whooshed out of my lungs. “Her… sister?”

He nodded slowly, the gravity of the situation hanging between us. “Yes.”