Love Unspoken

Even though eighteen-year-old Quinn was obedient, sensible, and very gentle, she also had a bit of a temper because of Alexander's indulgence. Because she knew her protector was right behind her and wouldn't let anyone bully her.

Even if Freya angered her, Quinn could confront her, displaying a considerable amount of stubbornness.

At that time, she had confidence, and it was Alexander who gave her that confidence.

At eighteen, Quinn felt powerful because she had all of Alexander's favor and the courage to defy the world.

Some said she was a servant by Alexander's side, treating his words as the most important thing. She would do whatever he asked her to do.

Even if he asked her to jump from upstairs, she wouldn't even hesitate; she would only think that he would surely catch her downstairs.

Even if she fell to her death, she might think that she must have fallen wrong before her death.

To Quinn, he was her faith, and she was his most devout follower.

Others said that without him, she was nothing. Without Alexander, she was a homeless, pitiful mute.

Indeed, their observations proved prophetic.NôvelDrama.Org © 2024.

The person protecting her vanished, rendering her homeless and vulnerable to mistreatment by all.

No matter her impassioned pleas, that figure would never reappear. No one would protect her any longer.

With eyes tinged red, Quinn gazed upon the man before her, tears descending silently.

Gradually, her gaze fractured, the desolation within her vacant eyes profound. It dawned upon her; he no longer wanted her.

Quinn's hand fell limply, surrendering the struggle.

Alexander's hand, which had been gripping her neck, slowly loosened. He pulled Quinn into his embrace, holding her tightly.

In a hushed whisper by her ear, he said, "It's me; I'm Alexander." His voice was hoarse, tinged with a hint of panic.

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Quinn shut her eyes, offering no response. However, in her heart, she knew it was not him. Not him.

Exhausted, Quinn was trapped within the man's embrace. Listening to his resolute heartbeat, her thoughts began to wane.

The person in his arms gradually grew still, and Alexander released her.

She kept her eyes tightly shut, tears clinging to her eyelashes, which were stuck together by the tears. Her brows furrowed tightly even as she drifted off to sleep, tears continuing to trickle down from the corners of her eyes. Placing her on the bed, he brushed his large hand over her petite face, gently wiping away the tear droplets at the edges of her eyes.

Time was the cruelest of all punishments, binding some individuals and events to irreversible paths.

Just as one could never again fit into clothing from infancy and play carefreely in the yard after growing up.

Similarly, the person Quinn yearned for would never return.

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Seated by the bedside, he was close yet emotionally distant from her.

Soren stood at the doorway, hesitant to enter, as he observed the desolate figure inside, his unprecedented desolation and loneliness palpable. Soren silently retreated, pretending he had never been there.

The snow fell heavily throughout the night.

The following day, the sky cleared, blanketing the outside world with a thick layer of snow.

Miller and Ms. Moore wield shovels at the entrance, clearing the path and leaving a corridor free in the midst.

Quinn was awakened by the scraping sound of the shovel outside. Her eyelashes fluttered, and she slowly opened her eyes.