From Best Friend To Fiancé 의 모든 챕터: 챕터 121 - 챕터 130

The plates clattered harder than I meant them to when I dropped them into the sink. The sound echoed through the kitchen loudly. “Go home, Penelope.” I didn’t look at her. The edge in my voice was sharper than the porcelain shards at the bottom of the basin. “You’ve said enough.”“Have I?” Her reflection glared back at me from the dark windowpane. “Why won’t you speak of her? Why does my sister's name haunt you?”Her words hit something I’d spent years nailing shut. I drew a slow breath through my nose. Then I turned around and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Penny, stop.” I turned, forcing calm into my voice. “We’ve had a good time. Great conversation. Great wine. Good food. Now you need to go. We’ll talk tomorrow when you’re yourself.”She shrugged off the hand I’d rested on her shoulder. “You talk about that Savannah girl all the time. Sav this. Sav that. You’re obsessed. Every detail, every move she makes.” Her voice cracked, but she pressed on. “I walked in on you, Roman, with y

The kitchen clock ticked too loudly for a house this big. Each second that passed made the air feel heavier, pressing against my chest until it hurt to breathe. Penny was near the island, her hands trembling as if she was holding on to the edge of something that was already slipping away.“What did you say?” Her voice was small, strangled—like she wasn’t sure the words she’d heard were real.I pinched the space between my eyebrows, the start of a migraine crawling behind my eyes. “Penny, I think you should leave now,” I said quietly. “This isn’t going anywhere.”But she didn’t move. Her eyes, usually sharp and bright, were wide and wet now. “I’m not going anywhere, Roman!” Her voice cracked, rising in a way I’d never heard from her before. “What the hell did you just say about my sister?”I gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles whitening. God, why did I ever think inviting her over was a good idea? I’d wanted peace—a good time and a couple of laughs, maybe—but this was anything b

Savannah We came to a stop in front of what I guessed was Mom’s hospital room. The hallway smelled like disinfectant and lemon wipes—too clean, too sterile to feel real. My palms were damp, my throat tight.“Should I knock?” I asked Dean, my hand already hovering near the door.He gave me a look like I’d just suggested we call first. “For what? So your fiancé can attack me for letting you knock?” he muttered, half under his breath, before pushing the door open without waiting for my answer.I rolled my eyes. “You’re so dramatic,” I whispered, but even as I said it, my heart began to race.“And you’re stalling.” He said. He wasn’t wrong.The sound of the door clicking open seemed louder than it should’ve been. The air inside the room was colder, much heavier. Every step I took toward the bed felt weighted, like the floor was pulling me down with every inch closer.Because every step was a step toward her.The woman who gave me life. The woman who also stood by while my life quietly c

“I don’t care!” I shouted over her. “Just stop it! Stop telling me who to be. I can’t breathe under your rules anymore. It's exhausting! It's killing me! I can’t—”My voice cracked completely. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the rhythmic beeping of the monitor, steady and loud. “Oh God.” She cried, her shoulders shaking. “What have I done?” Then I looked at her. Her frail body sunk into the hospital bed, her skin pale, her eyes rimmed red, her chest rising shallowly with every breath. She looked so small. So breakable.And guilt hit me like a wave.God, what was I doing? She was sick. She was fighting leukemia. And here I was, screaming, ripping open wounds that neither of us had the strength to close. I was practically killing her quicker. I pressed a shaky hand to my mouth, trying to steady myself. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice raw. “I shouldn't have done that.” She sniffled, fumbling for a handkerchief on the bedside table. “No,” she said softly, dabbing at he

Contrary to the soft cloudiness that hung over New Hope, Philadelphia looked like it was crying blood.The rain came down so violently that the sky itself seemed furious—pounding against the windshield, the roof, the road. Wipers screeched back and forth, barely keeping up. Every flash of lightning painted the street silver for half a second before plunging us back into blurred darkness.I sat there, fingers clutching my seatbelt, eyes fixed ahead as Dean wrestled with the steering wheel like the car was a wild animal.“You sure we shouldn’t park and wait till it stops a little?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady even as my pulse jumped. “I’ve read enough stories about cars sliding off the road in weather like this.”“But we’re almost there.” His tone was light, almost dismissive. Then he pointed toward the windshield. “My wipers are quite strong, you know?”“Dean,” I said dryly, “I understand if you have dreams of returning to New Hope in a body bag, but I have no such plans my