When She Ended It With Divorce (Chiara and Titus) novel Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Lindsay lingered over the tie for several long moments, her fingers wrestling with the stubborn knot that refused to budge. “How odd,” she whispered, frustration creeping into her voice. “It just won’t loosen.”

Chiara frowned, sensing the knot tightening with every pull. The increasing pressure sent sharp aches through her wrists, making her wince.

“Stop trying, Lindsay,” Chiara urged softly. “Please, go grab the eyebrow razor from my dressing table. We’re going to have to cut it.”

“Right away,” Lindsay replied, hurrying off to retrieve the razor. The blade sliced through the delicate silk tie with surprising ease.

Chiara flexed her aching wrist before rising and making her way to the bathroom.

Meanwhile, Lindsay moved to change the sheets, a task she performed with practiced efficiency. Their encounters often left the linens in a state beyond salvage, so she was used to this routine.

But as she prepared to strip the bed, she noticed something unusual—the sheets were remarkably clean, only slightly rumpled, without the usual signs of their passionate nights.

Curiosity piqued, Lindsay glanced toward the bathroom.

Chiara’s disheveled state had suggested something wild had transpired, yet the evidence was strangely absent.

Suddenly, it dawned on Lindsay how swiftly Titus had returned downstairs.

The implication hit her like a bolt of lightning. She covered her mouth, heart pounding, convinced she had uncovered a significant secret.

Quickly, she stowed away the fresh sheets and hastily smoothed out the old ones instead.

Emerging from the bathroom, Chiara sighed as she surveyed her torn clothes, shredded to near ribbons. With a resigned shrug, she opened the wardrobe and grabbed the first garment she could find.

Once dressed, her gaze drifted back toward the sprawling bed, and a sudden memory surfaced.

She recalled the first month of their marriage—Titus had been absent on their wedding night, but for the next thirty days, he returned home without fail.

She had only learned later that his grandmother had intervened. Debby believed it was deeply wrong for Titus to leave Chiara alone on their wedding night, so she had insisted he make up for it.

Chiara wasn’t sure how much the rest of the Goodman family knew about Titus’s relationship with Elaine, but she was certain his grandmother remained completely unaware.

The bed had felt enormous and empty when she was alone, leaving her restless and uneasy at first.

Even when he joined her, things didn’t improve much. After their rare moments of closeness, Titus would always retreat to his side, leaving a gulf between them that felt impossible to bridge.

From the start, Chiara had known Titus hadn’t married her for love—only convenience.

Yet she refused to let their marriage become cold and distant. Night after night, she would wake around midnight and quietly slip close to him, craving his warmth.

Each morning, he would awaken to find her beside him, watching her silently for a long moment. Once, he asked softly, “Do you always sleep like this, holding onto someone?”

Her cheeks had flushed at the question, and Titus had mistaken her blush for shyness, oblivious to the guilt lurking beneath.

She had tried to explain it was merely a habit, formed from years of sleeping with a giant teddy bear in her childhood room.

Though clearly unaccustomed to the nightly embrace, Titus never complained, accepting it as part of their married life—though the faint frown he wore each morning betrayed his true feelings.

When he asked to see a picture, she showed him the enormous teddy bear on her phone—a plush figure towering over her.

His frown deepened as he glanced from the photo to her, his gaze lingering on her face before drifting down to her slender waist.

Finally, he sighed and relented, “Fine. It’s not so bad.”

Gradually, a new routine developed when they shared a bed. He grew used to holding her, no longer waiting for her to seek his embrace in the dark, but pulling her close himself as they drifted off to sleep.

For a brief moment, she dared to hope she was slowly weaving herself into the fabric of his life, perhaps even earning a place in his heart.

But time proved her hope misplaced.

Chiara’s eyes lifted to the wedding photo hanging above the headboard. Her smiling face looked back at her—radiant, full of promise—a vision that now seemed painfully naïve.

Unable to bear the sight any longer, she turned away, left the room, and descended the stairs.

Her steps faltered briefly when she spotted him seated on the couch, but she quickly averted her eyes and headed for the front door.

“Stop right there,” Titus called out.

Chiara froze, then slowly turned to face him.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his eyes locked on hers.

She glanced at the clock—almost eight o’clock and already dark outside.

“I’m going home,” she replied quietly.

His gaze sharpened. “This is your home.”

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