The late autumn rain soaked Antonio’s face and seeped through his collar and cufls.
He stood there, rooted to the spot, watching the car disappear from his sight.
Before long, another car pulled up. Morton, umbrella in hand, rushed over to shield Antonio from the rain.
Antonio raised his head and glanced around, his thin lips pressed tightly together. Then he headed towards the roadside.
Inside the car, the heater blew warm air in his face, gradually dispelling the chill from his body.
His rain–drenched clothes, however, still clung to his skin. They were damp and sticky, making him extremely uncomfortable.
Morton took out a set of clean clothes from the trunk, but Antonio didn’t. even look at them. He just kept a straight face as he ordered the driver to start the car.
All the way, there was only the sound of breathing inside the car.
As they reached downtown, the streets grew busy. The driver braced himself to ask where they were going next.
However, after a long time, he still got no response from Antonio. He could only slow down the car and keep driving forward.
When even Morton was in a cold sweat, Antonio finally spoke, “Hotel.”
His two subordinates finally let out a long sigh of relief. Upon reaching the hotel, they escorted him to his room and then left as quickly as possible.
Antonio was left alone in the room.
He leaned against the sofa in his wet clothes, yanked off his tic, and tossed it carelessly to the floor. He then pressed the space between hist eyebrows, but it did nothing to calm the turmoil in his mind.
Ever since their last encounter at the restaurant, for some reason, Antonio had begun to feel dissatisfied with everything he had done.
From the trivial, like his daily coffee and meeting minutes, to the big, like socializing during contract negotiations and preparing the banquet of the Kaufman family, he just didn’t feel right.
People came and went around him, but Antonio just felt that there was no pare with Grace.
one to tion to the inconveniences in his life and work, she also frequently eared in his dreams at night.
Sometimes Antonio dreamed of the replays of their past, and at other times of some absurd and fantastic adventures. In every dream, Grace was there, silently following behind him and calling him Mr. Kaulinan.
There were also dreams he couldn’t bring himself to speak of, where Grace didn’t call him that way.
Sometimes she called him Antonio, and other times she called him Darling.
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