Love Unspoken

Alexander's fingers traced the swollen contour of her cheek, where the brutal assault had left a constellation of blood droplets, hardened into tiny, rough pearls.

"Does it hurt?" he asked. Quinn's lips tightened into a thin line, her head shaking almost imperceptibly in response.

With a swift, protective gesture, he swept Quinn into his arms and made a beeline for the emergency room.

Her knees were a battlefield of glass shards. The doctor, with the precision of a seasoned surgeon, wielded tweezers to extract the larger fragments and scissors to cut through her pants, revealing the smaller ones. Craning her neck, Quinn managed to steal a glimpse of Alexander. He stood by her side, his gaze riveted on the doctor's every maneuver on her wound.

An hour passed before her injuries were finally addressed.

"It's all superficial, nothing hit the bone. Keep the wound dry, change the dressing regularly, and you should heal up in about three to five days," the doctor reassured.

Alexander expressed his gratitude with a curt nod. "Thank you."

Once more cradling Quinn in his arms, he departed the hospital, steering them back to the estate.

His attentiveness was unwavering, his care for her, tender. From the hospital to their home, he ensured that her feet never once grazed the ground.

water for her to cleanse

her eyes

fleeting kindness; the chilling memories

into the same snare repeatedly was a

porridge in hand. "Eat up, then get some sleep

eyes fluttered open, her

after a

Sebastianful,

done, he gently tucked her in and caressed her hair, advising, "Rest up at home. I changed the front gate code; don't open the door for

"Sleep tight."

the room. As the bedroom door swung shut behind him, her tears

in bandages, the ominous stain of blood seeping

uncontrollably, pouring out her grievances about Alexander to

be so heartless? I was practically dying, and he didn't even look back. Oh, Freya, how did I raise such an

from crying, she