Chapter 80

Martha, watched as Kiara paced nervously back and forth in the living room. She knew that Kiara was wracked with worry about her sick son, who had been in the hospital for several months. Martha couldn't bear to see Kiara suffer like this any longer, so she decided to share some news that might bring her a bit of comfort.

"Miss Kiara," Martha said gently, "I have some news that I think you'll be happy to hear."

Kiara stopped in her tracks and stared at Martha, her heart pounding in her chest. "What is it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Your son," Martha said, beaming, "he's been healed. He's out of the hospital now."

Kiara's eyes widened with shock and disbelief. "He's...he's healed?" she asked, her voice trembling with emotion.

Martha nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. "That's what I've been trying to tell you, Miss Kiara. Your son is going to be okay."

With a sob, Kiara sank down onto the sofa, tears streaming down her face. "Thank God," she whispered. "Thank God."

Martha sat down next to Kiara and put her arm around her. "You must be overjoyed," she said, smiling. "Your son has been through a lot, but he's a fighter. And now he's coming home to you."

Kiara nodded, struggling to control her emotions. "I can't believe it," she said breathlessly. "I never thought...I never dared to hope that he would recover. But now...now he's going to be okay. Thank you, Martha. Thank you for telling me."

Martha hugged Kiara tightly. "You don't have to thank me, Miss Kiara. I'm just so glad that your son is going to be all right. And so are you, I can see that."

Kiara nodded, still weeping tears of joy. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I am."

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How lucas had gotten information that Kiara would be at the night club was something she would forever think about. Kiara knew she had made a very narrow escape and if she wasn't smart enough, she would have been ensared in his trap.

Thinking about it now, she shivered, wondering what on earth had gotten into him. All she knew was that she had been very lucky because one kiss from him would have broken down her walls.

Earlier, Lucas stumbled into the crowded club, his eyes scanning the dimly lit room for any sign of his ex-wife, Kiara. He had heard from a mutual friend that she frequented this establishment and had been hoping to catch a glimpse of her for weeks.

Finally, he spotted her at the bar. His heart quickened as he made his way over to her, his footsteps echoing over the pounding beats of the music. When he reached her, he planted himself next to her and leaned in, a subtle smile on his lips.

"Kiara," he breathed.

"What do you want, Lucas?" she replied coldly, not looking at him.

He leaned closer, his breath hot on her neck. "I want you, Kiara," he whispered, his lips grazing her earlobe.

Before he could make another move, Kiara spun around and slapped him hard across the face, the sharp crack echoing over the music. "Don't you ever come near me again," she hissed, her eyes flashing with rage.

Lucas recoiled, his hand flying to his stinging cheek. He watched as she stormed out of the club, her figure disappearing into the night.

As he stood there, still reeling from the force of her blow, Lucas realized that he had lost her for good. He knew he had no one to blame but himself, and the weight of that regret hung heavy in his heart as he turned and walked away.

Back in his home, Lucas fumed as he remembered what Kiara had made him pass through. He couldn't help but relive every moment of his humiliating time with Kiara and he hated even going to the bar in the first place.

On this particular night, Lucas had gathered the courage to step into the bar where he knew Kiara often frequented. He had hoped to confront her, to find closure or perhaps even rekindle some semblance of a civilized conversation. However, he underestimated the intensity of emotions that lingered between them.

As Lucas entered the dimly lit establishment, he immediately spotted Kiara seated at the far end of the bar, engrossed in a conversation with a group of friends. The room seemed to grow tense as their eyes met, and the atmosphere became charged with unresolved grievances.

Determined to address the issues that had plagued their relationship, Lucas made his way through the crowd, fighting a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. When he finally reached Kiara, he took a deep breath and began to speak, his voice laced with a mix of sincerity and desperation.

"Kiara, we need to talk," Lucas pleaded, his words barely audible above the music and chatter of the bar. "There are things we left unresolved, and I want to find a way to move forward."

Kiara turned to face him, her eyes filled with a mix of anger and resentment. The emotions that had festered over the years had left deep scars, and she had no intention of allowing Lucas back into her life, even for a conversation.

With a cold, sarcastic tone, Kiara retorted, "Oh, look who decided to grace us with his presence. Lucas, you're delusional if you think I would waste a single breath on you."

The surrounding patrons grew quiet, their attention drawn to the unfolding drama. Emboldened by the attention, Kiara continued her assault, her voice dripping with contempt.

"You were never there when I needed you, Lucas. You were selfish, unreliable, and nothing has changed. I should have seen through your facade a long time ago. I'm ashamed I ever called you my husband."

Her words cut deep into Lucas' wounded soul, exposing the truth of his failures. The weight of his past mistakes crashed down upon him, amplifying his humiliation.

In a moment of impulsive rage, Kiara's hand shot out, slapping Lucas across the face. The sound echoed through the bar, leaving a lingering silence in its wake. Lucas staggered backward, his cheeks stinging with pain, as the eyes of the patrons bore witness to his humiliation.

His attempt to find resolution had only deepened the wounds, and Lucas realized that the bar was not the place for closure. With tears welling in his eyes and his pride shattered, he hastily exited the bar, leaving behind the echoes of Kiara's insult and the searing memory of her slap.

The evening served as a stark reminder that some wounds never fully heal, and that seeking closure in the wrong setting can lead to further heartache. Lucas knew he would have to find another path to heal and move forward, away from the bar and the painful reminders it held.