Love Unspoken

With a tentative reach of her hand, she sought to touch the face before her. Suddenly, clarity returned to her vision, her eyes flickered, and she hastily withdrew her hand. Alexander, unbothered by her actions, held her and continued to Sebastian-feed her soup. Quinn closed her eyes and turned her head away, but he remained unfazed. His eyes darkened, and he moved his hand from her shoulder to her jaw, gripping it firmly. The pain left Quinn with no choice but to open her mouth.

The soup, warm and unexpected, slid into her mouth, triggering a fit of coughing. Most of the soup was expelled in the process.

The discomfort from the coughing was intense, and her eyes gradually reddened from the irritation.

Despite her pallor and reddened eyes, Quinn's appearance was striking, akin to roses blooming in a parched desert.

Alexander, however, remained expressionless, disregarding her coughing fit and persisting with the feeding.

In a weak attempt, Quinn lifted her hand to push away the bowl, but her strength failed her. Her fingers brushed against his arm, the touch almost tender.

Desperation set in, and she clenched her teeth, refusing the soup he offered.

In response, he pinched her jaw, applying a force that felt as though he intended to crush her bones.

Unable to withstand the pain, Quinn opened her mouth once more, and he patiently ladled another Sebastianful of soup into her mouth.

Eventually, Quinn surrendered and swallowed the soup.

The room fell silent, save for the clinking of the empty bowl and Sebastian.

Once the bowl was empty, Alexander set it aside, released Quinn, and rose to leave.

Before he could take a step, Quinn clutched at the hem of his coat.

He paused, tilting his head slightly to regard her.

Tears welled in her eyes as she looked up at him, her expression pitiful.

"Leave," she managed to say.

"Why should I leave?"

"Juliet."

With a swift motion, Alexander pulled his coat free from her grasp. Quinn's hand fell back onto the bed, empty and weak.

Without uttering a word, he turned and walked out.

Quinn attempted to rise from the bed, but her legs gave out, causing her to collapse onto the floor.

With a determined effort, she began to crawl towards the door, hoping to catch up with him.

But before she could reach it, the bedroom door closed.

Lying on the cold floor, Quinn stared at the closed door, tears finally spilling from her eyes.

Why? She didn't understand why Alexander treated her this way.

He could show such leniency towards Getty, yet be so heartless towards her.

He didn't love her, but he couldn't let her go either.

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What had she done wrong?

Quinn bit the back of her hand, crawling on the ground, weeping silently.

A wave of despair washed over her. She tilted her head slightly and caught sight of the dishes on the bedside table.

Her gaze fixed on the bowl, her breath quickening.

When she regained her senses, she found herself at the bedside, reaching for the tray.

With a gentle tug, she flipped the tray over, and the dishes crashed to the floor, shattering into pieces.

Trembling, Quinn picked up the broken shards from the floor, aligning the sharp edges against her wrist.

Without hesitation, she pressed the sharp shard against her skin and sliced downwards with all her strength.

At first, there was no blood, only a cut in the flesh, revealing a hint of red beneath.

She held her breath, repositioned the shard against the wound, and sliced downwards once more.