Love Unspoken

Quinn stared into the man's dark eyes, managing a strained smile as a wave of overwhelming exhaustion washed over her. Her hands fell limply to her sides, and she closed her eyes, surrendering to the inevitable. The sight of her resignation ignited a cocktail of rage and helplessness within Alexander. For a fleeting moment, he felt an urge to end her life. The once docile and obedient pet had suddenly learned to rebel, causing even its master to become flustered.

Veins bulged on the back of his hand, his knuckles turned a ghostly white, and his grip on her neck trembled with barely restrained force. Yet, in the end, he slowly released his hold on Quinn. Air rushed back into her lungs as she gasped open her eyes, collapsing to the ground in a fit of violent coughs.

Alexander crouched before her, his hands firmly gripping her shoulders. "Quinn," he whispered, "Didn't I promise that everything would return to normal if you just obeyed? Isn't it easier just to obey?"

Once her coughing subsided, Quinn turned her red-rimmed eyes towards him and let out a laugh that was uglier than tears. How was she supposed to obey? She was at a loss for his definition of obedience was it to sever all ties with the world and devote herself solely to him?

Back when her world was consumed by him, yet he never spared a glance for her. He ignored her, sent her mixed signals, and treated her like a worn-out shoe. It was ludicrous that he still expected her to obey. Quinn had to face the truth. For twenty long years, she had never truly understood him. Alexander averted his gaze, unable to meet her eyes, pulling her into his embrace as if trying to etch her into his very bones. Quinn felt suffocated in his grip, her body limp like a rag doll in his arms. The Doctor hesitated at the doorway, uncertain whether to intrude or not. Quinn glanced at the Doctor, subtly shaking her head. She knew what the Doctor wanted to say, but she didn't want to hear it.

Her life had been marred by disdainful and pitying stares of all sorts. Quinn didn't want his words to turn even her last shred of coveted love into a mere product of pity. She would rather have nothing at all. Pity was the cheapest of emotions. The doctor seemed to understand her silent plea, sighed, and quietly retreated.

Alexander held her a while longer before releasing her, gently kissing the tears at the corner of Quinn's eyes, looking deeply into them. "I'll take you to the hospital," he said. Quinn was taken aback, her gaze shooting up to meet the man's, a flicker of color returning to her ashen face.

She clenched her fingers tightly, digging her nails into her palms, feeling a sharp pang of pain. He always knew how to hit her where it hurt, pulling her back from the brink of death each time and offering a glimmer of hope. Alexander's gaze was intense, and he asked again, "Okay?" Quinn's eyes flickered, unable to respond, as tears streamed more fiercely down her cheeks. Alexander tenderly wiped away her tears, his touch as gentle as could be. Then, a sudden burp from Quinn broke the tense atmosphere, unexpectedly drawing laughter from Alexander. He leaned in, kissed her lips, and murmured soothingly, "Stop crying, okay?"

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Quinn tried to turn her head away, but he steadied her face, bringing her back into a deepening kiss that charged the air with a thick intimacy.

She could even hear his familiar, rapid breathing. Quinn raised her hand to push him away but found her wrist captured in his firm grip. Tears clung to her eyelashes, and her cheeks were flushed red; her hair was somewhat disheveled. Her helpless appearance seemed like a mix of resistance and invitation.

Such vulnerability could drive a man crazy.

So the man who had intended only to console her, now pressed her desperately to the floor.