Chapter 545 He's Not Martin
James' gaze shifted, and he realized their hands were still clasped together. He tried to withdraw his hand, but Patricia held on firmly, refusing to let go.
"Let go," James said, his expression changing.
Patricia shook her head in refusal. "No!"
James couldn't quite pinpoint what he was feeling. He was annoyed, with a touch of sourness. If he were Martin right now, he'd be glad that Patricia was holding on to his hand and not willing to let go. But he was James, and even though Patricia seemed to have accepted his identity, she still clung to his hand. To her, he was just a stranger she had known for less than a day. Yet, she behaved so intimately. It left James with an odd feeling inside. He felt a pang of jealousy, yet knew he had no right to be jealous. No matter what name he went by, he was still her husband in the end. He shouldn't be jealous, but he couldn't help it.
"I said, let go," he said, the terse statement nearly squeezed through clenched teeth.
Caught short of breath, he covered his lips, coughing uncomfortably twice. Patricia could feel his irritation and knew she should release his hand before he got angry. But inexplicably, she had this strong hunch that he wouldn't really lash out at her.
Despite her strong feelings, she didn't challenge him. Instead, she hung her head low, put on a pitiful look, and whispered softly, "It's too dark here; I'm scared."
Upon hearing her words, all the anger in James dissipated into thin air. He sighed, a tone of resignation in his voice. "I'll take you back."
At this, Patricia's mouth turned up into a smirk that he couldn't see, vigorously nodding. "Okay! Can you drive? My car's in the company's underground parking lot."
"Uh-huh!" James nodded.
The two of them made their way back to the company's underground parking garage. James drove while Patricia sat in the passenger seat. Focused on driving, James felt Patricia's gaze drilling into the side of his face. The dim streetlights flickered on his face, casting surreal shadows that made him feel like he was in a dream.
Feeling uncomfortable under her stare, he couldn't resist asking, "There's nothing on my face that you're looking for."
Patricia ignored his attempt at conversation and laughed. "Don't you feel suffocated wearing a mask all day? With that nasty cough, you shouldn't be wearing one constantly—you need to breathe some fresh air, or it'll just get worse."
James' lips twitched underneath the mask as he replied, "Thanks for your concern, but I know what I'm doing."
As the night grew late, Patricia said, "How will you get home at this hour? I have spare rooms at my place. If you don't mind, you can stay over for the night."
"I mind a lot!" James gripped the steering wheel tighter, his tone acidic as he retorted. "Is Patricia always this hospitable to all men?"
Patricia cracked a smile. "Of course not! But it's because it's you that I'm being so welcoming."
Her candid admission hit James like a hammer to the chest. He almost lost control and drove straight into the roadside flowerbed.
"Unless I'm mistaken, wasn't it not long ago that Patricia's husband passed away? Anxious to find a new man so quickly?" James said.
He regretted the words the moment they escaped his lips, wishing he could bite off his tongue; it was too late. Patricia seemed as though she'd been doused with a bucket of ice-cold water, the color draining from her face, leaving her as pale as translucent glass, frighteningly white.
Her previously good mood had vanished. She shifted in her seat and turned to look out the window, remaining silent until they pulled up to her apartment complex.
"Thanks for the ride. Take the car back with you and bring it to the office tomorrow morning," she said, her voice devoid of earlier warmth, holding a chilling distance as if she had built a wall around her heart.
"No need, I—"
"It's very late, and I don't want any of my employees getting into trouble."
With that, she opened the car door, stepped out, and walked away without looking back, her figure enveloped in the cool moonlight, appearing even more thin, solitary, and lonely.
A sharp pang gripped James's heart. He paused, instinctively wanting to follow her but restrained himself, watching her figure shrink into the distance until she was just a speck and finally out of sight. Deflated, he slumped back into the seat.
He knew his words were harsh and had hurt her deeply. He didn't know what had come over him; those words had just burst out. Seeing Patricia's wounded expression and her forlorn silhouette walking away felt as if someone had mercilessly gouged a chunk out of his heart, leaving it to bleed and ache. But maybe that was for the best. Now, she would likely never question his identity again. It was better to keep their exchanges strictly professional from now on. That way, when he left, she wouldn't be heartbroken.
Despite his rational thoughts, James couldn't understand why his heart still ached so sharply. He pressed a hand to his chest, coughing violently as his emotions stirred within him. The coughs were harsher than ever before. He wasn't sure if it was the pain in his heart or the coughing, but tears welled up, reddening his eyes. In the still of the night, the sound of his coughing was especially distinct. It took a while before he caught his breath, leaned back, and rested his head against the chair with closed eyes. A self-mocking smile crept onto his lips as an all-encompassing sadness radiated from within.
Tears traced down Patricia's cheeks. Her heart, dormant for so long, throbbed with pain anew. The fleeting joy she felt upon seeing James evaporated, leaving only desolation and disappointment.
Why? Why did he give her hope only to dash it so cruelly?
Up until half an hour ago, she had believed James might actually be Martin, perhaps under dire circumstances that forced him to take on an alias. But now, she knew she was utterly mistaken. The hope that had been kindled was now thoroughly extinguished, plunging her into an abyss once again.
Engulfed in her sorrow, Patricia was brought back to reality by a voice calling out, "Mommy, you're back?"
She followed the sound and felt warmth flow back into her frozen heart as she saw her three little ones standing under the streetlight.
"Why are you kids out here?" she asked.
Charles took a step forward, taking Patricia's hand. "We came down to meet you, Mommy! You must be tired after a day's work, huh?"
Touched, tears brimmed in Patricia's eyes once more. In that moment, her heart, so ruthlessly hurt by James, began to heal. Indeed, without Martin, she still had her five children. She wasn't all alone, was she?
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