Love Unspoken

They loved her very much. Her father would hoist her high into the sky, take her on soaring airplane rides, and she would perch atop his shoulders, feeling the rush of the wind against her face as he ran. It was a sensation so tangible, yet it brought her such joy.

In her dreams, there was an abundance of laughter and happiness, a home filled with warmth and contentment that she had yearned for over the span of two decades. However, dreams were just that - dreams. Even within these dreams, Quinn felt like an outsider, peering at the family of three with a mixture of longing and envy.

In her dreams, everything beautiful seemed hazy, but what stood out most vividly to her were the twenty years she spent under the roof of the Kennedys. There, she bore the brunt of disdain and insults, being labeled as an orphan and a wild child for countless years.

The years at the Kennedys were shrouded in darkness and gloom, the ugly faces of the people concealed in the shadows, like devils lurking in the dark. Amidst this darkness, only Alexander shone brightly, his white shirt a beacon in the gloom. To Quinn, Alexander was a sanctuary in a storm, a refuge she sought without hesitation. He was her lifeline, her protector for many years.

In Quinn's mind, these strange dreams played on a loop, happiness and sadness intertwining, leaving her heart in a state of turmoil. Quinn found herself in chaos within the dream, surrounded by a cacophony of voices, unable to discern whether they were hurling insults at her or calling out her name.

These voices blended together, becoming indistinct and eerie, like standing on the precipice of hell, with countless ghosts luring her to descend into the abyss. Quinn retreated, attempting to escape these voices, her only option was to run wildly.

"Quinn."

"Quinn?"

pandemonium, a clear voice emerged, as if descending from the heavens, cutting through the blurry and chaotic voices, piercing the darkness and reaching

deep-set eyes. As she gazed at the

lingered in Quinn's mind, her eyelashes fluttered, and tears streamed down her cheeks. The man raised his hand to wipe

"Having a nightmare?"

echoed from above, "Everyone has left, and you two

looked up and realized that she had been nestled in Alexander's arms, her tears had soaked the front of his shirt. Walter leaned against Alexander's seat, one hand holding a bag, observing the

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