Love Unspoken

Quinn slowly reached down, grabbing a handful of ashes from the ground.

In an instant, the wind swept them from her grasp, scattering them into oblivion. She raised her eyes to Alexander, her expression a silent plea for understanding.

Alexander met her gaze, his posture radiating an undeniable authority. The destruction he had wrought was dismissed with a casual indifference, as though he had merely disposed of some inconsequential rubbish.

In his eyes, Quinn felt herself reduced to the same level of insignificance. Her friends, her identity, and everything she held dear were all dismissed as worthless.

Summoning her strength, Quinn scrambled to her feet and signed, "Why? Why are you doing this to me?"

Alexander moved closer, his touch gentle as he wiped a tear from her cheek. "These things don't belong here," he said.

"I've warned you to stay away from Abigail. Why can't you just listen?" Abigail had even provoked her to bite him over this matter.

Tears welled in Quinn's eyes as she pleaded, "Can't I even have a friend?"

"You have me. That should be enough. Why do you need friends?" His voice was soft, but it sent a chill down Quinn's spine.Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

She stared into his emotionless eyes, finding them colder than the biting wind. She took an involuntary step back. "It's always been just you. Since my childhood, I only have you. But you... you have so many others around you, but there is no place for me."

Her body trembled as she gestured her pain, "What am I to you, really? A cat? A dog?"

Alexander's gaze lingered on her, but he remained silent.

Tears streamed down her face as she gestured with stiff fingers, sobbing, "I'm not a pet. I have a heart. I feel sorrow and pain, but you don't care."

"I refuse to live like a pup, sitting at home every day, eagerly waiting for you. Then I'll be content with just a pat on the head and happily wag my tail," she declared. Her movements were slow, every stroke laden with the silent screams of her heartbreak.

She couldn't speak, and her gestures made no sound, so it was impossible to see the agony in her heart with each delicate flick of her fingers.

'And Alexander? He'll never know. He'll always be blissfully unaware,' she thought.

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'Just like a puppy can't express its grievances. No one knows its pain, so it can only lick its wounds in a lonely corner.'

She stood before him in the cold wind, and her gestures were desperate. Facing his impassive face, she felt like a mere court jester.

Gradually, Quinn's motions ceased. Her arms fell limply at her sides, and the corners of her mouth revealed a hint of bitterness. Despair made her feel more helpless than sorrow itself.

As Alexander reached out to pull her in, she defiantly hid her hands behind her back and stepped away. His eyes darkened as he firmly grasped her arm and drew her close.

He wrapped his arms around her and said in a low voice, "You're not the puppy, nor the kitten. You're my family, irreplaceable, then and now."

"You're my little friend," he added.

Quinn's fingers clenched, but she didn't want just family. She yearned for... the kind of love he had for Getty.

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As she watched him, a breeze stirred the scraps of paper at their feet, twirling in the space between them. Her gaze held the persistence of a flickering ember in the ashes, struggling until it finally died out. "I've grown up," she gestured.

She tried to tell him that she was no longer the child he remembered. She was twenty-four now.

But he still looked at her as before, telling her he was fond of her, with a fondness that seemed so cheap.

She felt like a beggar. She was invisible to him every time she reached out for a scrap of his love, not even worthy of charity.

Then he told her that the door would always be open, and she must beg here forever, with nowhere else to go.

As he caressed the corner of her eye, he whispered, "Grown up? Then it's even less appropriate to cry."

Quinn looked down, wondering if he really didn't understand what she meant.

Or was it just his selfishness speaking?