When She Ended It With Divorce (Chiara and Titus) novel Chapter 80

**Silent Roads Remember by Sawyer**

**Chapter 80**

As Titus entered the house, he felt the familiar weight of his coat slipping off his shoulders. With a swift motion, he yanked his tie loose, the fabric falling away like the burdens of the day. The house was quiet, but a faint sound from upstairs caught his attention, prompting him to glance upward.

Descending the staircase was Lindsay, a glass of water in her hand. Her eyes widened in surprise upon spotting him.

“Mr. Goodman, you’re back,” she exclaimed, her voice a mix of relief and curiosity.

Titus narrowed his eyes, his gaze falling on the medicine bottle she held. “What’s that medicine?” he inquired, a hint of concern creeping into his tone.

Lindsay followed his gaze to the small vial. “It’s a fever reducer. Mrs. Goodman caught a cold. Her throat is inflamed, and she’s running a fever. She just took the medicine, so I advised her to get some rest,” she explained, her tone steady but laced with worry.

“A fever?” Titus’s expression darkened as he looked toward the stairs, his voice taking on a serious edge. “What’s going on?”

“Apparently, she took a cold shower yesterday morning and fell ill right after,” Lindsay replied, her eyes darting back to him, gauging his reaction.

Titus halted in his tracks, his heart sinking. “She told you that herself?” he asked, disbelief tinging his voice.

“Yeah,” Lindsay confirmed, her tone softening.

Without uttering another word, Titus turned and made his way upstairs, his mind racing with concern.

Meanwhile, Chiara lay in bed, enveloped in a haze of grogginess. The sounds of the house felt distant, yet she instinctively sensed the presence of someone nearby. As the door creaked open, she stirred, her heart fluttering with the realization that Titus had returned.

She felt the weight of someone sitting beside her, and then a warm hand pressed gently against her forehead, checking for a fever.

“Why do you have a fever?” Titus asked, his voice a mixture of concern and confusion.

With a soft sigh, Chiara finally opened her eyes, her voice barely above a whisper. She had no intention of engaging in conversation tonight, especially after Eunice’s warning.

Feigning illness, she decided to brush him off. “Yeah, I’ve caught a cold. Maybe you should sleep in the other room?” she suggested, keeping a cautious distance.

Titus observed her, noting the raspy quality of her voice that betrayed her true condition. He studied her for a long moment, his brow furrowing with concern before he finally spoke. “Do you want to go to the hospital?”

Chiara shook her head, her resolve firm. “I really don’t want to deal with all that right now. I’ve already taken my medicine. I’m so dizzy and tired… I just want to sleep,” she murmured, her eyelids growing heavy.

Titus reached out, feeling the cold sweat on her forehead. “Alright,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

As the medicine began to take effect, Chiara succumbed to sleep, her breaths evening out. Titus lingered by her side, ensuring she was comfortable, only leaving to use the bathroom when he was certain she was resting peacefully.

After a quick shower, Titus climbed back into bed, instinctively pulling Chiara closer. He hesitated for a moment, feeling her warmth against him, but the sensation was uncomfortable; she was burning up.

Propping himself up on one arm, he studied her face, and seeing that she was still asleep, he quietly slipped out of bed and returned to the bathroom.

With a warm towel in hand, he returned to her side and gently wiped the sweat from her brow, his heart aching at the sight of her furrowed brow slowly relaxing under his touch. Setting the towel aside, he found himself captivated by her peaceful expression, lost in the beauty of her slumber.

His fingertips traced her features—over her brows, down her nose, and finally brushing against her lips, which were unusually vivid and red from the fever. The rosy glow that enveloped her face made her look ethereal, and Titus couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Chiara, let’s be good to each other from now on,” he whispered, a promise hanging in the air.

She shifted slightly, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she drifted back into deeper sleep. Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss against her lips before lying down beside her, a sense of peace washing over him.

The following morning, Chiara awoke to an empty room. The sound of running water from the bathroom filled the silence. She pushed the covers aside and sat up, feeling the stiffness in her body dissipate slightly.

Touching her forehead, she noted with relief that the fever had finally subsided. Just then, Titus emerged from the bathroom, his eyes catching hers as he noticed her pale but improved appearance.

“Did your fever come back?” he asked, concern etched across his face.

Chiara shook her head, her voice still hoarse. “I don’t think so.”

Titus, now clad in a bathrobe, approached her, reaching out to check her forehead. “You’re not hot,” he said, a hint of relief in his voice.

Chiara shrugged away from his touch, pulling off the covers as she sat up, determined to get out of bed. “Let me freshen up first,” she insisted.

Titus regarded her with a mix of concern and authority. “Get some rest.”

Chiara met his gaze, her determination unwavering. “It’s okay. I’m not running a fever anymore.”

Titus studied her closely, noting the improvement in her demeanor. “Your voice is still hoarse,” he pointed out.

Chiara rubbed her throat, a small smile playing on her lips. “It’s just a little inflamed. I just need some meds, and I’ll be fine. It won’t affect my work. I’m still going in.”

Titus raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile forming. “Wow, such a workaholic?”

Chiara shot him an exasperated look as she stood up. “I’ve always been a workaholic. I’m going to freshen up first…”

As she walked into the bathroom, Titus couldn’t help but admire her determination. He headed over to the closet to get dressed, his mind still lingering on her resilience.

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