From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 291

**Chapter 291: How Many?**

**Roman**

Anyone who might have stumbled upon me in that dimly lit hallway would likely have labeled me as pathetic. I had just left the love of my life behind, shattered and alone, under the flimsy pretense that I needed some air. But deep down, I knew the truth: my legs were too weak to carry me any farther. No matter how far I attempted to escape, she remained the only destination my heart recognized, the only place I truly wanted to be.

And so, here I found myself, seated just outside the door to our bedroom, knees pulled tightly to my chest, hands gripping my head as if I could somehow squeeze the migraine out of existence.

I couldn’t do it. There was no way I could take her that way. I couldn’t bring myself to touch her like that. Not her. Not my beloved Savannah.

In the past, with escorts and fleeting flings, everything had been so mechanical. It was easy, devoid of emotion or depth. Those encounters were just skin on skin, a primal need to remind myself that I was still alive, to satisfy the raw, animalistic urges that clawed at my insides. I could treat those women however I wished because, to me, it was all meaningless.

But this? This was Savannah. The woman who had transformed me, the one I had vowed to protect, to cherish, to never harm. The woman who was now pleading with me to degrade her, to punish her because she believed she deserved pain as a means to earn my forgiveness.

I couldn’t do it. I would rather shatter into a million pieces than break her again. No matter what she had done, I would always hold her in the highest regard until my last breath. That was my wife. My soulmate. My best friend. The woman I envisioned growing old with.

And perhaps… the mother of my unborn child.

Just the thought of that possibility made my chest tighten painfully, each breath a struggle. There was a significant chance she might be carrying my child.

A piece of me. A piece of us.

So what was I supposed to feel? Joy? Fear? Betrayal? All those conflicting emotions crashed over me like a tidal wave, leaving me gasping for clarity.

Should I celebrate the fact that she wanted me enough to carry my child within her? Or should I drown in the bitter reality that she had gone behind my back to make it happen?

How does one forgive such a betrayal? How does one look into the eyes of the woman they adore, knowing she had lied to them for the sake of love?

God, why does everything seem to crumble the moment I think we’ve finally reached solid ground?

From my position on the floor, I could still hear her sobbing inside—soft, broken sounds that sliced through the silence and tore at my insides.

I squeezed my eyes shut, battling against that thought. No. I wasn’t my father. I couldn’t be. Savannah wouldn’t allow me to become like Reginald Blackwood. She saw something in me worth loving. Worth saving. And damn it, I wanted to be that man for her.

For us.

I ran a hand down my face, drawing in a breath that did nothing to calm my racing heart. Her crying hadn’t ceased; it had merely softened—becoming more exhausted with each passing moment. She was weakening.

I could picture her on that bed, clutching the pillow as if it were the only thing anchoring her to reality. I could see her trembling shoulders, her swollen eyes, the way she whispered apologies to the darkness, believing I couldn’t hear her.

My heart shattered into a million pieces.

If she was willing to endure something as traumatic as undergoing another abortion just to prove to me that she was sorry—just to earn my forgiveness—then the issue wasn’t with her. It was with me. She shouldn’t have to mutilate her heart to convince me that she loved me.

That realization hit me like a freight train, leaving me reeling.