Love Unspoken

Reality abruptly reasserted itself and Quinn quickly stooped to gather the shards of broken glass scattered across the floor. Soren, however, swiftly intervened, raising a hand in a halting gesture. "Allow me," he insisted, "you should sit." His audacity in guiding her movements left Quinn feeling a strange unease, but she complied nonetheless, crossing the room to sink into the plush embrace of the sofa.

Once Soren had cleared away the remnants of the shattered glass, he poured a fresh glass of water and handed it to her. Retrieving a first aid kit, he set about rebandaging her wound with a quiet grumble of disapproval. "Whoever did this initially neglected to apply any ointment and bound it far too tightly. Were they hoping for an infection?" He questioned, his tone laced with irritation.

His words hung in the air for a moment before he glanced up, catching the hesitant look in Quinn's eyes. His own widened in realization. "Could it have been Alexander?" He queried, to which Quinn responded with a tight nod. Soren immediately fell silent, hastily assuring her, "I didn't say anything."

With the bandaging task completed, Soren regarded Quinn with a worried gaze. "Quinn, are you feeling unwell? Is that why you can't sleep? Let me check." His fingers found her wrist, his brow furrowing in concentration as he sought a reason for her insomnia. Her frailty, combined with a myriad of other factors, made it difficult to pinpoint a cause.

Eventually, he released her, coughing slightly to clear his throat. "You're just overthinking things. Try not to worry so much, relax."

his words. Was she overthinking? She hadn't been consciously dwelling on anything in particular, unsure of what she should even be contemplating. How could she

in the middle of the night. The thought of Alexander's potential wrath sent a shiver down his spine, prompting him to push even harder for her to retreat to the bedroom. Quinn, unable to resist his insistence,

remained at home, not venturing to the office. This time, though, she wasn't alone. Soren was there, not only monitoring her condition but also taking on the role

Her injured fingers were also showing signs of improvement. During one of his bandage changes, Soren informed her

Soren, wearing an awkward expression, asked, "Quinn, how

apologized, "Sorry, I

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could result in three fingers being impaled so precisely. The more he thought about it, the more he realized it was unlikely to have been an accident. It

the doorway. He was coated