When She Ended It With Divorce (Chiara and Titus) novel Chapter 92

**Chapter 92**

Heather found herself in a state of uncertainty, her thoughts swirling like autumn leaves caught in a gust of wind. The moment her eyes landed on Chiara, she offered a tentative nod, a silent acknowledgment of their shared space. Chiara, sensing the weight of the moment, instinctively turned her gaze toward Titus, her curiosity piqued. “What do you want to discuss with Heather?” she inquired, her voice tinged with an edge of caution.

Titus, seemingly unfazed, stirred his chowder with a casual air. “The future of Lynch Group. Interested?” he posed, his words laced with a nonchalant tone that belied the gravity of the topic.

Chiara felt a wave of confusion wash over her. Titus’s demeanor was deceptively relaxed, yet there was an undercurrent in his voice that sent a shiver down her spine—a subtle menace that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. His expression remained inscrutable, a mask of calm that offered no clues to his true intentions. All she could do was remain vigilant, bracing herself for whatever plot he might be weaving.

Heather, caught in the crossfire of their silent exchange, blinked in surprise as she oscillated between their faces, her mind racing. “Is there some advice you want to share, Mr. Goodman?” she finally ventured, her tone a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

“Not advice, just my two cents,” Titus replied, his eyes flickering with an enigmatic glint.

“Alright, Mr. Goodman, let’s hear it,” Heather said, her expression turning serious as she leaned in, eager for his insights.

Suddenly, Titus shifted his focus to Chiara. “Want some?” he asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp, as if he were gauging her reaction.

Chiara was momentarily struck dumb, the weight of his unspoken challenge hanging heavily in the air between them. Heather, however, remained blissfully unaware, only sensing that something was amiss between the two.

With a tight grip on the bedsheet, Chiara felt her heart race as she stared at Titus’s calm visage. Finally, she mustered the strength to respond, “I’ll eat!” she declared, her voice stiff and resolute.

Under the shadow of Titus’s veiled threat, Chiara resigned herself to finishing the entire bowl of chowder. Once he had fed her, he rose and exited the ward, leaving a palpable silence in his wake, as if he had intentionally crafted a moment for them to breathe.

Without hesitation, Heather reached for Chiara’s icy hand, concern etched across her features. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice low and urgent.

Chiara hesitated, the truth lingering unspoken on the tip of her tongue. “It’s my period…” she mumbled, the words barely escaping.

Heather’s eyes widened in shock. She was well aware of how difficult Chiara’s periods could be, but she had never anticipated it would lead to a hospital visit. “How did it get this bad? What did the doctor say?” she pressed, her voice laced with worry.

Chiara averted her gaze, a sense of shame creeping in. “It’s no big deal, just need to rest for a few days,” she replied, her tone dismissive.

Heather’s brow furrowed, concern deepening. “Why does this keep happening to you?” she questioned, her voice tinged with frustration.

Feeling sheepish, Chiara offered an apologetic shrug. “It was just a fluke this time. It’s never been this severe before,” she explained, though her words felt hollow even to her.

“Why is it so bad this time?” Heather pressed, her tone sharp and insistent.

Chiara’s voice trailed off, her thoughts a chaotic jumble.

Heather, knowing Chiara all too well, scrutinized her friend’s expression. It was clear that Chiara was concealing something significant. “Don’t you dare keep anything from me, or I’ll go ask the doctor right now,” she warned, her eyes narrowing with determination.

Feeling the weight of Heather’s gaze, Chiara scooted closer and whispered something in her ear. The revelation left Heather utterly stunned, her mouth agape as she struggled to find the right words. “You…”

Chiara kept her head bowed, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the fabric of her clothes, too embarrassed to meet Heather’s gaze. Her cycle was erratic, a cruel game of chance that left her perpetually unprepared for its arrival.

Heather was acutely aware of Chiara’s health struggles. After a moment of silence, she blurted out, “You chase a little pleasure, and who ends up suffering? You, of course.”

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