Love Unspoken

Quinn was plagued by the gnawing feeling that she was the root cause of the predicament Abigail found herself in. Abigail's voice, laced with bitterness, filled the air. "Can you believe she betrayed me, my dear Quinn? How did things spiral to this point?"

The despair in her voice was palpable, a choking sob cutting through her words. Quinn, her throat constricting and eyes brimming with unshed tears, clutched her phone tightly. Her mouth was agape, but no words found their way out. After an eternity of silence, Abigail's voice regained its composure. "I've decided to turn myself in. Would you like to see me one last time?"

She continued, her voice steady, "If you decide to come, just knock. If not, just hang up."The torment had become unbearable for her. The agony of existence was proving to be far more torturous than the prospect of atonement behind bars. It would mean that no more innocents would have to suffer because of her actions.

Quinn held onto the phone, her fingers frozen, neither hanging up nor tapping the screen. 'Abigail is a victim, too. She shouldn't have to shoulder all this burden.

seems that the kindest souls can't live easy once they step wrong.' Quinn's thoughts echoed in her mind."Well?" Abigail's voice broke through her thoughts, a sad smile audible in her words.Quinn's fingers, stiff with tension, moved slowly. Her inner turmoil was a raging storm

rose from her seat, and sprinted towards the villa's exit.By the time Juliet emerged with the tea,

headed straight to the police station, her heart pounding with the fear of being too late to see Abigail one last time.As she arrived across from the precinct, her eyes immediately landed on the familiar motorcycle with

casually dressed, a lit cigarette in her hand.Quinn paid the driver and rushed towards Abigail, her steps

spotted Quinn, a warmth radiating from her that seemed to contradict the despair Quinn had heard in her voice."So, did you get all dolled up just to see me?" Abigail teased.Quinn glanced down at her outfit, a white sweater paired with white slacks-her typical everyday attire."Just kidding," Abigail said, her

midsection. Reaching out, Abigail gently touched her belly. "How's the little one?"Quinn merely stared back, words lodged in her throat.Abigail didn't hold it against her. Instead, they fell into a comfortable rhythm of small talk about inconsequential