Chapter 139: SAVANNAH

Roman I don’t know what’s going to kill me faster—poison, or not speaking to Savannah. Honestly, it feels like the latter will finish me off quicker. I’m leaning against the door, waiting to hear her footsteps move past toward the hall. But they don’t. Which means she’s still in the living room, probably curled up on the couch with her phone, pretending I don’t exist. I should go to her. Yell at her for being so fucking infuriating, then kiss her until we both pass out from lack of oxygen. But every time I picture it—storming in there, angry and desperate—I see the other version too. The one where she looks up, eyes glistening, voice trembling as she tells me to leave her alone. Or she tells me that she thought I was different. So I stay here, leaning on this cold wood, feeling like a fool because that version cripples me. The truth is, I miss her so much it physically hurts. I miss her voice. The rhythm of her laughter. The way she always smells like something soft and safe. I miss my