Chapter_211
Almost two days had passed before Tyler finally brought Olivia to his family home. The moment she stepped into the grand living room, Ana’s sharp eyes immediately took in her pale, gaunt face. She rushed over, her concern evident.
“What happened?” Ana asked, her voice gentle but filled with worry.
Olivia didn’t respond. She simply stood there next to Tyler, her expression distant and hollow, her frailty obvious.
“She’s been vomiting a lot,” Tyler explained, his tone more neutral than concerned, though the concern was clear in his eyes. “I thought it might help if she stayed here for a bit.”
Ana’s gaze softened, but her worry grew. “I’ve never seen anyone look this bad when they’re expecting. Have you taken her to the doctor?”
“I did,” Tyler answered quickly. “They said she’s fine.”
The maid and driver, still unloading Olivia’s bags from the car, moved quietly in the background, adding to the stillness of the moment.
“I’m glad she’s staying with us,” Ana said, offering a warm smile that Olivia barely noticed. “Rest as much as you need here.”
Tyler nodded but didn’t say much more. He instructed the maid and driver, “Bring the bags upstairs.” Then, without another word, he led Olivia upstairs.
Inside the quiet, spacious room, Tyler paused by the door before turning to her. “Do you want to rest for a bit?” he asked gently.
Olivia shook her head, her movements slow and deliberate. She didn’t want to lie down. She didn’t want to rest. “I’ll start unpacking,” she said, her voice devoid of energy, as if the act of sorting through her things would ground her, would somehow stop the world from spinning too fast.
Tyler watched her for a moment, concern flickering in his gaze. She looked so different—so much smaller, with dark circles under her eyes that deepened with every passing day. She was a far cry from the woman he had met, the one who carried a kind of quiet strength. Now, she looked fragile, as though the weight of everything was slowly crushing her.
After a while, he spoke again, his voice soft but firm. “Let the maid do that.”
But Olivia didn’t hear him. She continued, moving her clothes from the bag to the wardrobe with a steady, almost mechanical precision, her gaze fixed on the task before her.
Tyler’s patience thinned. He walked over, gently taking hold of her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. For a moment, they both stood there, frozen in the quiet room. Neither of them spoke.
“Stop,” Tyler finally said, his voice low. He leaned over her, his presence enveloping her, as if casting a shadow over the space between them.
Olivia didn’t lift her head. She couldn’t meet his gaze. Beneath the weight of his presence, she felt small, her strength slipping away like sand through her fingers.
“Can you let me go?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, strained with the weight of everything she wasn’t saying.
Tyler paused, his grip still firm on her wrist. After a few agonizing seconds, he let go. She sank down onto the floor, the task of unpacking forgotten as she pulled her knees to her chest. She looked like a shell of herself, worn out and drained.
Tyler stood over her for a long moment, as though unsure of what to do. His usual confidence was absent now. Instead, he crouched beside her, his hand moving slowly to her cheek. The touch was gentle, almost too gentle for someone like him. He didn’t speak right away.
“It’ll get better,” he said after a beat, his words hollow, but there was something soft about them—a rare glimpse of his vulnerability.
Olivia met his gaze then, her eyes still haunted, searching for something that she wasn’t sure existed anymore. “Yeah, I know. I’m just wondering if love is the same for everyone,” she said, the question more rhetorical than anything else, yet it hung heavily in the air.
Tyler felt a strange warmth at her words, a pull of empathy that surprised him. “Do you understand what love is?” he asked, his voice low, almost too serious.
Her eyes flickered, the sadness in them deepening. “Do you love Naomi, Tyler?” Her question was direct, her gaze sharp and searching, yet filled with a quiet sorrow. “Does all love change?”
The room seemed to freeze for a moment, and Tyler’s breath caught in his chest. He hadn’t expected such a question, and the answer wasn’t something he had ever been prepared to articulate.
“You’re still young,” he said after a long pause, his voice softening slightly. “When you grow older, you’ll realize that love changes with time. A person’s mind is unpredictable, and sometimes we can’t even control our feelings.”
Olivia absorbed his words quietly, though they didn’t seem to bring her any peace. She looked away, her shoulders slumping. After a pause, she asked, her voice barely audible, “So, feelings can change?”
Tyler’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond immediately. Finally, he said, “It becomes more about family and responsibilities.”
The words came out harsh, colder than he intended, and the weight of them hung in the air like a thick fog. Olivia flinched, her face crumpling slightly as the pain hit her all over again. The reality of his answer was too much to bear.
“Enough. I don’t want to hear anymore,” she interrupted, her voice cracking, her head lowered in resignation. She couldn’t listen any longer; the harsh truth was too cruel for her heart to take.
Tyler remained silent, his hand retracting from her cheek as he watched her. He didn’t press her for more. He simply stayed, letting her process, letting her grieve.
In the quiet of the room, their world seemed suspended between the fragile threads of their own brokenness. Neither of them spoke further, each lost in their own thoughts. And in that silence, the weight of everything unspoken pressed down on them both.