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.”
She hadn’t expected to run into Tony, let alone in such a humiliating moment. As if on cue, the car’s interior lights flickered on, and with the sound of a bone cracking, Myra looked to see Tony’s dark eyes now softer than before, glimmering with something she couldn’t quite read.
Before she could speak, she noticed that his right arm appeared paralyzed, limp after he had attempted to move it. Despite herself, Myra had to admit that Tony’s embrace had given her the comfort she so desperately needed. It was the second time in her life someone other than Estelle had made her feel this way.
Tony continued to stretch his arm, his gaze never leaving her face. Myra, feeling his stare, quickly lowered her eyes, flustered and unsure of how to react. The handkerchief that Tony had once offered to her was handed back again, and his voice was softer this time as he said, “Wipe your face with this.”
Reluctantly, Myra took the handkerchief. She couldn’t bring herself to behave affectedly in this moment, but as she wiped her face, she noticed her makeup had smudged onto it. Embarrassed, she looked at Tony and said, “I’ll wash it and give it back to you later.”
Tony’s face remained unreadable as he stared at her. Without another word, the car began moving again, merging into the city’s traffic. The world outside the car faded, and in the calm that settled over them, Myra began to find some peace. Maybe it was time to accept what had happened and let go of the past.
The car eventually reached downtown, and Tony broke the silence. “Where are you staying now?” he asked.
Myra, still flustered, answered dryly, “Ocean Blue Residence.”
Tony glanced at her, his eyes catching the redness and swelling beneath her eyes, though her ear was strangely flushed. His gaze darkened, but the corners of his lips twitched upward slightly. Neither of them spoke again until they arrived at an upscale neighborhood. As the car stopped, Tony bent over and unfastened her seatbelt with ease. Despite his calm demeanor, Myra couldn’t help but tense as he neared her.
She hurriedly opened the car door, but as she stepped out, her knees wobbled. Just then, she saw Tony reach out to steady her, but she quickly avoided his touch. Looking up at him with an almost defiant expression, she murmured, “Thank you for everything today, Director Hart.”
Tony’s brow furrowed slightly, but he withdrew his hands and replied flatly, “You’re welcome, Miss Stark.”
There was no longer any animosity between them. After seeing her at her lowest, Myra didn’t feel the same discomfort around Tony anymore. Instead, she felt small in his presence, but she kept her expression composed as she walked away toward the neighborhood entrance, her mind still tangled in the events of the day.