Love Unspoken

Quinn's eyes fluttered shut for a moment, seeking solace in the darkness. When she opened them, the familiar surroundings of the room came into focus. However, Alexander was noticeably absent.

Awakening from her dreams, Quinn felt the lingering tendrils of bittersweet emotions tugging at her heart. It was a persistent ache that refused to dissipate.

She propped herself up and reached into her drawer for a sanitary pad, preparing herself for a trip to the restroom. However, before she could make her move, the bedroom door swung open, revealing Alexander. Quinn froze, clutching the pad in her hand.

Alexander's gaze briefly landed on the object she held, but he chose not to comment. Instead, he simply said, "Since you're up, come down for some breakfast," before turning to exit the room.

With a sigh of relief, Quinn made her way to the bathroom, pleased to find that the bleeding had ceased.

A glimmer of hope sparked in her eyes. Could it be possible that she could still keep the baby?

After freshening up, she washed her hands and descended the stairs.

In the kitchen, she found Alexander, casually dressed, ladling soup from a pot.

Quinn rubbed her eyes, questioning her own perception. There he was, serving soup.

As she approached the dining table, a thought crossed her mind,' Did he cook all this food?'

Her heart pounded as she took a seat, her gaze fixed on the chicken soup before her, a sense of bewilderment washing over her.© NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

She had never seen Alexander cook before. How did he even know how to?

Noticing her daydreaming, Alexander broke the silence. "Aren't you hungry?"

Snapping back to reality, Quinn sampled the soup. To her surprise, it was delicious!

She looked at him in astonishment.

Alexander casually wiped his hands with a napkin. "Why are you looking at me like that? I hired someone to do it."

Quinn bowed her head in silence, continuing to eat, her earlier wishful thoughts causing her some embarrassment.

Her hunger had indeed got the better of her as she devoured the meal. Alexander, on the other hand, barely touched his food, his gaze fixed on her the entire time.

Only after she was thoroughly satiated did Quinn put down her utensils. As was her habit, she began to clear the table.

By the time she finished washing the dishes, Alexander had already relocated to the living room.

Pausing for a moment, Quinn surmised that he had not retreated to his study, probably because he wanted to talk.

She approached him dutifully, standing before him.

He tilted his head and said indifferently, "Sit down."

With her fingertips clasped together, Quinn took a seat opposite him, waiting for him to break the silence.

"Still want a divorce?" he asked.

With her head bowed, Quinn struggled to respond. The events of the previous night hung over her like a shadow. She felt safe when she returned to this place and heard his voice. She couldn't help but want to give up what she had insisted on for so long.

She yearned to bury her head in the sand like an ostrich, settling for self-deception in a familiar life.

If she didn't reach for more, staying might indeed be the kindest choice for her.

Yes, aside from not loving her, he was truly good to her. He treated her so well that she couldn't find fault.

Alexander slid the divorce papers across the table and said, "You've got one minute to decide."

He glanced down to set a timer on his watch, then crossed his legs, leaned back on the couch, and waited in silence. His eyes never left her.

Quinn stared numbly at the document. The jumble of words swam before her eyes, but none penetrated her thoughts.

"You have thirty seconds," he reminded her.

With trembling hands, Quinn picked up the papers along with a pen from the desk, flipping to the signature line. Her fingers clenched around the pen, the tip hovering just above the line. She was unable to contain the shaking. Alexander watched impassively. To be precise, he was staring at the pen in her hand.