When She Ended It With Divorce (Chiara and Titus) novel Chapter 69

**Chapter 69**

Chiara found herself in a restless slumber, the kind of sleep that barely brushed the surface of true restfulness. Yet, amid the haze of half-consciousness, she felt a presence enveloping her, pulling her into a warm embrace. Just as she was about to push away this unexpected intrusion, a gentle hand found its way to her belly, softly kneading the skin there.

Her eyes flew open, instantly alert and wide with surprise. Chiara’s gaze dropped, fixating on the man beside her, her heart racing as she stilled her body, unsure of what to do next.

The warmth radiating from his palm seeped into her abdomen, a comforting heat that seemed to melt away her lingering drowsiness. She became lost in her thoughts, staring blankly at the bedspread, until the deep timbre of Titus’s voice sliced through the stillness. “Sleep,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

Chiara felt her eyelids flutter, a soft rebellion against the pull of sleep. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words emerged. Instead, she opted for silence, slowly allowing her eyes to drift shut once more, surrendering to the warmth of his embrace.

Titus held her close, his own eyelids fluttering shut as he succumbed to the comfort of their shared moment.

Morning arrived with a jolt, and Chiara woke to find the space beside her empty. A frown creased her brow as she felt the dampness of sweat clinging to her skin. She sat up, casting a disgruntled glance at the air conditioner humming in the corner. “Seriously? This thing is supposed to keep me cool,” she thought, irritation bubbling beneath the surface.

Her mind drifted back to the previous night, recalling the way Titus had rested his hand on her stomach, a gesture both tender and possessive. With a silent resolve, she tossed the covers aside and made her way to the bathroom, her thoughts racing.

“Ugh, waking up drenched in sweat? Definitely time for a shower,” she mused, the thought of refreshing water invigorating her spirit. After dressing, she headed downstairs, her heart skipping a beat when she spotted Titus seated at the dining table.

He looked up as she entered the room, a teasing glint in his eye. “You thinking about taking the day off?” he asked, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

Chiara froze for a heartbeat, processing his words. A quick shake of her head followed. “Nope,” she replied, her tone firm.

Titus scrutinized her face, his gaze lingering as he assessed her well-being. “If you’re ever uncomfortable, just speak up,” he advised, his concern evident.

She hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to voice her discomfort, but ultimately nodded. “Got it,” she said, feeling a flicker of gratitude for his attentiveness.

*Seriously, does anyone ever call in sick just because of cramps? Most girls just grit their teeth, take some meds, and push through it,* Chiara thought to herself, a hint of defiance swelling within her.

After breakfast, Lindsay, the housekeeper, approached with a small box of painkillers. Chiara blinked in surprise at the sight before her realization dawned. She quickly tucked the box into her bag.

“I’ll take it later. I’m not hurting much right now, so no point wasting the medicine when it hasn’t even started acting,” she explained, her tone light.

Lindsay nodded, her expression warm. “Chiara, would you like me to make you some ginger syrup and bring it over at lunch?”

Chiara was about to decline when Titus interjected, “Go ahead and bring it.”

She shot him a glance, surprised by his sudden insistence, but chose to remain silent.

As they finished breakfast, Titus’s concern resurfaced. “Are you really okay to drive?” he asked, his eyes searching hers.

Chiara met his gaze, offering a reassuring nod. “Just some cramps, that’s all,” she replied, hoping to quell his worry.

He studied her for a few seconds, a flicker of anxiety shadowing his features, before he turned and climbed into his car.

Chiara waited until his vehicle pulled away before slipping into her own. With her BMW still in the shop, she settled into the plush interior of an Audi A8, the luxury vehicle feeling foreign yet familiar.

She drove cautiously, her pace slower than usual, the morning’s events weighing on her mind. Upon finding a parking spot, she stepped out of the car and unexpectedly ran into Lena.

Lena’s eyes narrowed as she recognized Chiara. “Morning, Lena,” Chiara greeted, attempting to bridge the gap.

Lena’s gaze flickered to the car beside Chiara before she averted her eyes, her tone cool and detached. “Morning.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away, leaving Chiara feeling a mix of confusion and annoyance.

Watching Lena strut off like a proud peacock, Chiara couldn’t help but shake her head. They shared the elevator in silence, the air thick with unspoken words, neither willing to break the tension.

When they arrived, Queenie was already at the office, her bright demeanor cutting through the quiet. “Hey, Chiara! Did you have breakfast already?” she called out, her voice cheerful.

Chiara smiled, feeling a twinge of warmth from Queenie’s enthusiasm. “Yep, already did,” she replied.

“What’d you have?” Queenie asked, genuine curiosity lighting up her features.

Chiara sensed her eagerness and replied, “Nothing special—chowder, buns, eggs, milk, soy milk, sandwiches, bread… You know, the usual suspects.”

Queenie waggled her eyebrows playfully. “Looks like we’ve got identical stomachs!”

Chiara chuckled, her spirits lifting as she returned to her work, sifting through yesterday’s files.

Not long after, Queenie’s desk phone rang, pulling her attention away from Chiara’s laughter. She straightened up, answering, “Mr. Goodman? Okay,” before hanging up and rising from her seat.

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