Chapter 167 Let's Be Practical Savannah “Roman, please look at me,” I whispered through my tears. My voice trembled, my chest tight, my world collapsing into the silence between us—before my very eyes. He didn’t. He just sat there—stone still, eyes fixed somewhere past me—as if I wasn’t even in the room. As if he couldn’t bear to look at me. And God, that cut deeper than anything he could’ve said. I reached out anyway, desperate, trembling, and caught his hand. I pressed it to my cheek, to my tears. “Please,” I begged, my throat burning. “Roman, please look at me.” Slowly—too slowly—he turned. His eyes were bloodshot, the red cutting through the green of them. He looked exhausted, hollow, and hurt. His hand twitched in mine, and it was then I realized he was shaking. Roman was trembling. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, low, and trembling with something that wasn’t quite anger—just pure pain. “You deceived me. I trusted you, Savannah.” He swallowed hard. “You used me. You took advantage of me. You hurt me.” Those words shredded something inside me. I shook my head violently, tears spilling faster. “No—no, Roman, please. I didn’t mean to. I swear, I didn’t mean—please forgive me.” He closed his eyes, the muscle in his jaw ticking, and when he spoke again, his voice was soft, but it hit me hard. “The damage has already been done. How can I trust you again, Savannah?” I gasped for air, shaking. “No. We’re not sure yet, Roman. We don’t even know anything for certain. It’s just an observation. I could be wrong—I might not even be pregnant.” My voice cracked, desperate. “It’s just stress. That’s all. I swear, that’s all it is.” He let out a bitter laugh—one that didn’t sound like him. “How many times have I made love to you since you took matters into your own hands?” I blinked, caught off guard, scrambling for a number that didn’t come. “I—I don’t know,” I stammered. “I can't count.” He nodded once, a slow, devastating motion. “Exactly.” His voice broke. “Playing dumb isn’t going to help us. Let’s be practical. I'm not sterile, Savannah.” He rose from the bed, and my heart dropped to my knees. “Excuse me,” he said quietly, voice controlled but trembling, as if each word cost him strength he didn’t have. I watched him walk toward the door and panic crashed through me like lightning. I knew if he walked out that door, he wouldn’t come back. Not tonight. Maybe not ever. And I couldn’t live with that. So I lunged forward and caught his wrist, my voice breaking apart. “Roman, don’t. Please. Don’t leave me.” He turned slowly, his eyes landing on my hand clutching his. “Savannah,” he said softly, warningly, “let go. I really need some air.” I shook my head violently, tears streaming down my face. “No. I won’t let you leave me.” He sighed, his chest rising and falling with the kind of heaviness that comes from too much emotion, too much everything. “Sav—” Before he could finish, I threw myself against him, wrapping my arms and legs around him like I was afraid he’d disappear if I let go. My tears soaked his shoulder. “Don’t be mad at me. Please, don’t be mad at me. I love you so much, Roman.” His hand came up, tentative, cupping the back of my head. “I’m not mad at you,” he murmured against my hair. “My love for you will never change. Ever. But I have a migraine and I really need to clear my head.” I shook my head again, frantic. “No. No, you don’t. You need me.” I pulled back, cupping his face between my palms, forcing his eyes to meet mine. What I saw there—God—it gutted me. That brokenness. That quiet hurt. And it made me blurt out the words I never thought I’d say again. I promised him something I swore I'd never do again. Ever. “I’ll get rid of it if you tell me to.” My voice was barely a whisper, choked with tears. “If I’m truly pregnant, I’ll take it out. I’ll get an abortion immediately. I’ll do anything you want me to do, Roman. Anything. Just please don’t leave me.” He froze, his eyes widening as he realized what I just said. Then his hands gripped my arms, firm but gentle, like he was trying to stop me from falling apart. “Savannah,” he said quietly, looking into me as if trying to find something that made sense. “I’m not leaving you. I just need space. This is too much for me.” That word—space—felt like a death sentence. “No!” I screamed, my hands shaking as I grabbed his face again and kissed him. “No space. Don’t say that.” I kissed his lips, his cheeks, his jaw, chanting against his skin, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” He didn’t move. He just stood there, letting me. My lips moved desperately across his face, his neck, my fingers curling into his hair, my body pressed flush against his. I took his hand and placed it over my heart, on my breast, begging him silently to feel something—anything. His hand stayed there, closing around my breast, but not doing anything. His hand was warm and lifeless. My sobs grew louder. “I won’t let you leave me. I refuse to!” I cried, kissing him harder. “Please, Roman. I can’t lose you. Not like this.” His breath hitched, the sound guttural. “I’m not leaving you, Savannah. I will never leave you.” But I didn’t believe him. I reached for his waistband, desperate to keep him here, to make him remember what we were. I kissed down his chest, his stomach, trembling with fear and love and insanity, falling to my knees before him. “Savannah, stop.” His voice came rough, low, strained. His hand stopped me. “I’m not in the mood.” I froze, eyes wide, disbelief cutting through me like ice. “You don’t want me anymore,” I whispered. “That’s it, isn’t it?” My biggest nightmare had come true.“Jesus Christ, Savannah,” he hissed, raking a hand through his hair. “Of course I want you. I'll always want you for the rest of my fucking life!” “Then what’s wrong?” My voice cracked. “Why won’t you touch me—” Then it hit me. The reason why he was being cold towards me. My voice went soft, small. “Oh. I get it now.” He frowned. “You get what?” “You think I’m trying to deceive you again,” I said bitterly, my tears burning hot. “You think I’ll trick you again. Fine. Give me the whole bottle of pills, Roman. I’ll swallow every damn one of them right here, right now, in front of you, if that’s what it takes to prove myself.” “Savannah, enough—” “Or you can use a condom even though I'm allergic. You can actually use ten of them! I don’t care anymore!” My words came out broken, wild. “Just don’t shut me out. Don’t go cold on me.” He looked at me for a long moment, and then his voice dropped to something quiet, something that terrified me. “I would never do that to you. I'm not shutting you out. With the way that I feel, I just don’t trust myself not to hurt you, Savannah.”I froze, my heartbeat stopping. He took a step back, shaking his head slowly. “I’m angry. But not at you.” “Then hurt me,” I said before I could stop myself. “Please.” Something dark flickered in his eyes then. “Savannah—” “Please.” I whispered. In the next second, I was on my back, gasping as he pinned me to the bed, his jaw tight, his body tense. He joined his fingers and mine on the bed, pressing them down beside my head. His lips met mine halfway, rough and unrestrained, and I swear it felt like punishment—like retribution. His mouth moved hungrily, savagely, bruising me, stealing my breath. I clung to him, tears and heat mixing on my skin. I kissed him back with everything I had left, my arms locked around his neck, my legs around his waist. His mouth left mine, trailing down my throat, biting, sucking, claiming. His teeth scraped against my chin, and I arched up, dragging his sweatpants down his ass. I grabbed him, my hand trembling as I pumped along his growing length, wanting to pull him back to me, into me.Then—he stopped. He froze on top of me, his eyes meeting mine again. For a moment, the world stilled. His gaze softened, and then—something broke. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, his chest heaving. And when he opened them again, they were cold. Empty. He flipped me over roughly as if I weighed nothing, my face pressed into the pillow, his hands gripping my hips tightly, digging into my skin. I didn’t fight it. I understood. He couldn’t look at me. Couldn’t see what he loved and what had betrayed him all at once. My tears soaked into the sheets. I waited for him to move, to take me, to say something. But nothing came. After a few long, heavy breaths, his hands lifted away from my body. I turned back, heart in my throat, and saw him standing there—shoulders slumped, hands trembling. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice barely a whisper. “I just can’t.” And then he walked out, leaving me on the bed, still reaching for a man who wasn’t reaching back anymore.