Love Unspoken

Drained to her core, Quinn allowed her eyes to flutter shut, succumbing to the intensity of his yearning.

Abruptly, Alexander's fingers found her chin, lifting it gently. His voice, rough and husky, pierced the silence, "Quinn."

Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his. The fervor mirrored in his gaze was impossible to ignore, causing her own to waver.

Aware of the need to reserve her strength for the impending hospital visit, she pressed her lips together. After a moment's pause, her fingers began to work on the buttons of his shirt.

He leaned in, capturing her lips once more, even as the cold from the floor seeped into them. A bedsheet was pulled down in haste, discarded carelessly onto the ground...

...

Downstairs, the Doctor sat in a state of restless anxiety, the passing hour doing nothing to ease his nerves.

At last, he spotted Quinn and Alexander descending the staircase. Quinn's unsteady steps and flushed cheeks caused a crack in the Doctor's previously composed facade.

They paid him no mind, Alexander guiding Quinn out the door, leaving the Doctor standing in a state of disarray and confusion.

Quinn slid into the car, and Alexander, true to his word, drove her directly to the hospital.

Upon arrival, Quinn rushed to Juliet's usual corner, only to find a stranger occupying the bed. Panic gripped her, and she began a frantic search through the hospital corridors, her eyes scanning each face but never finding Juliet. Alexander remained a short distance away, his arms folded as he leaned against a wall. He watched her navigate through the crowd, his gaze steady and unwavering.

Her search proving fruitless, Quinn returned to Alexander's side, her eyes seeking answers in his.

"She's in the VIP ward upstairs," he revealed after a moment.

Quinn was taken aback.

Before she could formulate a response, Alexander was guiding her upstairs to a quieter, less chaotic floor. He led her to a room, pushed open the door, and there lay Juliet, the elderly woman, on the bed. Quinn rushed to Juliet's side, sinking to her knees beside the bed. Juliet's eyes were closed, but the steady beep of the monitor beside her was a comforting sound.

The weight in Quinn's heart eased at the rhythmic beeping. She turned to look at Alexander, her expression a complex mix of emotions.

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He stood by the door, his head tilted slightly, beckoning her to join him.

With Juliet stable, Quinn's anxiety lessened. She rose obediently and exited the room. Alexander closed the door behind them and asked, "Feeling better now?" Quinn pressed her lips together, her hands forming a silent question: How is she?

"The condition is stable," Alexander replied, "but the treatments going forward are going to be costly."

Quinn froze.

"Talk to the doctor," Alexander suggested.

As if on cue, a doctor approached, pausing his rounds to greet them, "Mr. Landry."

"Can you explain to her the patient's situation? Just give it to us straight."

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The doctor nodded and flipped open the medical chart in his hands, then hebegan to explain to Quinn.

"The lady's advanced in years and took a bad fall; it's triggered a host of complications. A full recovery is nearly impossible. We can only try to maintain her health as best as we can and possibly extend her life." Quinn gestured again, and the doctor, trying to decipher her hand signals, looked uncertainly at Alexander.

Alexander interpreted, "She's asking how much it will cost? And how long does the lady have?"

"That depends on the medication," the doctor replied. "The better drugs naturally come with a steeper price easily into the tens of thousands per day. As for lifespan, it's hard to say. A lot of it comes down to the patient's own will to live. "If it's the short end, two to three months. On the long end, two to three years. In any case, it's within that range."

The mention of a five-figure sum per day hit Quinn like a sledgehammer, making her head swim. She steadied herself against the nearby wall.

"You should get back to it," Alexander told the doctor.

The doctor nodded and returned to the patient's room.

Alexander turned to Quinn, his question striking at the core of her being, "What's it going to be? To treat her or not? The decision is yours this time."