Love Unspoken

Quinn's lips formed two silent words: Don't go.

Alexander cast his gaze down at her, watching as she continued to grapple with the challenge of lip-reading, her efforts awkward yet unerringly accurate. "Please," she begged.

His voice, when he finally spoke, was a low murmur, devoid of the fury that had previously laced his words. "Begging me now, don't you think it's too late?"

Regardless, Quinn shook her head, her arms tightening around him in a desperate embrace. She knew well enough that he didn't harbor any love for her, but this gesture had always served to quell his anger. It might not sway his decision, but it could at least soothe his wrath.

She nuzzled her cheek against his chest, much like a kitten seeking the comfort of its owner. It was a touch so tender that no one could remain unaffected.

He seemed more composed than before, yet he made no move to return her embrace. Quinn tilted her head upwards once more, standing on her tiptoes in an attempt to kiss him. Her clumsy eagerness slowly ignited a spark in his eyes. Suddenly, his hand rose, cradling the back of her head, deepening the kiss. He lifted her into his arms, moving purposefully towards the bed.

then allowed herself to relax, her eyes fluttering shut as she responded to his kiss. His anger often manifested in rough,

truly cherished by him. Fleeting as a blossom that withers at dawn, it was this single thread of hope that had kept her tethered to him all these years. But now, the fervor of her feelings seemed to be ebbing. He had asked her not to love him,

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single tear traced a path down her cheek. Exhausted, she

nothing more than the cold, empty expanse of the sheets. But

gazes locked - his, deep and inscrutable. Her breath hitched, and she reached out tentatively to touch his face, half-convinced that she was hallucinating. His skin was warm to the touch, the sensation undeniably real. And his hand was holding hers. They remained thus, their eyes locked in a silent communion where words

a path along her brow and eyes, his morning voice husky and raw.

gazed at him, her silence

own, "I

turned to lie on his back beside her, his gaze fixed on the ceiling