Chapter 88
Tony understood the weight of the moment as he held Myra in his arms. Sometimes, it was difficult to give oneself fully to another when your heart had already been claimed by someone else. After a soft sigh, he rested his chin on her head and gently stroked her hair, his voice hoarse yet much softer than usual. “Stop crying,” he whispered, his words like a balm to the wound inside Myra’s heart.
His gentle tone was like a cool breeze, soothing her in ways she hadn’t expected. At that moment, Myra didn’t have the energy to acknowledge the world around her. All she needed was to release the grief and sorrow she had bottled up inside for so long. The busy pedestrians outside the car window were oblivious to the sad yet oddly comforting sight of the man and woman in the car, their lives unfolding in this quiet space.
As the night descended, and the city’s lights illuminated the darkness, Myra’s weeping gradually quieted, replaced by a stillness. She felt so safe in his embrace, the warmth of his arms so inviting that she didn’t want to leave. The faint scent of tobacco and mint filled the air around her—this was not Sean’s scent, and although she knew she shouldn’t crave it, the emotional exhaustion from her cry had left her seeking solace, and for that moment, she found it in Tony’s presence.
Sensing her dependence, Tony tightened his hold around her waist. His eyes remained cold, but his gaze softened as he watched her. For a brief second, his lips curled into the faintest smile, but it was soon replaced by his usual serious expression. After a while, he spoke again, his voice husky but teasing, “I don’t mind you clinging to me like this, but are you sure you’re not trying to cripple my arm?”
He had been holding his arm awkwardly between her head and the headrest for hours, and the numbness in his right arm was becoming unbearable. Myra froze in his arms, the realization of their prolonged embrace slowly sinking in. The memories of the day began to return to her.
She remembered meeting Lyla at the cafe, the confrontation that followed, and how Lyla had tricked her into slapping her. Sean, who arrived midway through their exchange, had misunderstood and assumed Myra was bullying Lyla. The consequences were immediate: Myra ended things with Sean, walking away from the man she once believed she would spend her life with.
The ache in her heart intensified as she recalled the events, and instinctively, her fingers gripped Tony’s suit jacket. Slowly, she pulled away from his embrace, her vacant eyes drifting over his navy tie, then to his chiseled Adam’s apple. Her gaze then lifted to his tense jaw and finally to his face—the face she had come to recognize as a constant presence in her life, albeit from a distance.
That’s right. She had been so overwhelmed with emotion after leaving the cafe that she’d subconsciously entered someone else’s car. Thankfully, it hadn’t been anyone else but Tony. She hadn’t been in the right state of mind to think clearly then, and now, as the reality of the situation settled in, she no longer felt the need to hide her vulnerability. After all, Tony had witnessed the worst of her moments—the emotional wreckage of her failed marriage, and yet he hadn’t turned away.
She sat upright, her gaze shifting to the window as she muttered, her voice hoarse from her earlier crying, “Thank you… Director Hart.”