Love Unspoken

A tall, slender figure stood in the doorway, his face obscured by the backlighting, making it difficult for Quinn to see him clearly.

She tightened her grip on the plate she was holding. Quinn was puzzled by Alexander's sudden appearance. 'Hadn't he moved on to a happy life with Getty by now?' "Having fun?" His voice cut through the silence, casual as if her absence had been a mere caprice.

The diner's owner's wife, Mrs. Jenkins, looked on in confusion, her eyes flicking between them. "And who might you be to Quinn?" she inquired instinctively. "I'm her husband," he declared.

Mrs. Jenkins's mouth dropped open in shock, her assumptions shattered.

She had pictured Quinn's husband as a lazy, domineering type, not this attractive, charismatic man. "Quinn said you didn't want her anymore, so why are you here?" she asked bluntly. Alexander turned slightly to glance at the woman, "Did she say that?"

Mrs. Jenkins hesitated, sensing the complexity of the situation."Well..."

Alexander offered a smile. "She left rather suddenly; I apologize if she caused any inconvenience." "Right then," Mrs. Jenkins said with an uneasy smile that faded into a sigh of relief, "Glad to hear that's settled. I was worried she might be " Before she could finish her thought, the sound of shattering glass filled the room as Quinn's plate crashed to the floor, breaking into pieces.

Quinn hurried over to Mrs. Jenkins, frantically gesturing an apology: "Sorry, I didn't mean to."

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Yet, inwardly, she knew she had meant to do it. She couldn't risk Mrs. Jenkins revealing her pregnancy.

Mrs. Jenkins, trying to interpret her silent message, laughed it off awkwardly, "No worries, dear. I'll take care of this mess later. You should go now that your husband is here to take you home."

She glanced up at Alexander, who took her hand and led her out of the store.NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.

The drive back to the villa was silent. Returning to the cold, opulent house felt starkly different from the warm, bustling environment of the small spaghetti shop.

Inside, Alexander's demeanor changed; his expression turned stormy as he gripped Quinn's jaw harshly.

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"Getting bold, aren't we? Running away from home?"His grip was tight, his anger palpable. Quinn winced, feeling her jaw might dislocate. She met his fierce gaze, her eyes watering under the strain. Quinn tried to free herself, but Alexander shoved her onto the couch, her surroundings spinning into darkness.

He loomed over her, gripping her hand tightly. "Who taught you to act like this?" Quinn managed a weak smile through her tears, pulling her hand away. "No one. You don't care where I go. Why can't I leave?" Her tone was filled with anger and defiance.

Alexander stared at her, saying nothing.

"Why do you care so much for Getty, yet drag me back?" Quinn challenged him. Normally compliant like a tame kitten, she rarely complained or demanded more than minimal affection. She was angry now. Dazed, Alexander finally murmured, "Are you angry with me?"

Quinn hesitated, suddenly unsure how to respond to his unexpected question.