Love Unspoken

Getty sat, frozen in her seat, her gaze locked onto him, her expression a complex tapestry of emotions. "Getty, I can't marry you," he declared.

Those words, so familiar yet so cutting, felt like a blade piercing Getty's heart each time they were spoken. She bit her lip, her eyes welling up with unshed tears, her resolve to keep them at bay wavering. Alexander added, "Take good care of yourself."

Getty remained silent. The irony of his words was almost laughable. How could he, of all people, tell her to look after herself? It sounded like nothing more than a flimsy excuse! "Alexander, do you love me?" she finally managed to ask.

"What is love?" he retorted.

"It's for you to tell me. You're always so good to me, you meet my every request, even driving this long distance just to indulge my whims. Doesn't that mean it's love?" Getty pressed him, her eyes desperately searching his face for any hint of emotion.

Regrettably, the car was too dimly lit; the fleeting light from outside only grazed his profile, revealing nothing but his characteristic aloofness.

It was a coldness that was paradoxical; he might be smiling at you, but you could still feel the chill. Only those closest to him could perceive this suffocating and inescapable distance.

Alexander didn't answer; he just focused on the road ahead, his gaze unwavering.

"You always go silent when I ask you this," Getty sniffed, her makeup beginning to smear with her tears.

She was about to wipe her eyes with her sleeve when a long, slender hand offered her a tissue.

Grabbing it petulantly, she roughly dabbed at her face.

Getty didn't bother asking again. It was pointless, and it only brought her misery. Everyone says you can truly feel whether you love someone or not, but with Alexander, she couldn't detect a thing.

Sometimes, she thought Alexander was head over heels in love with her, but at other times, it felt like she didn't even exist in his heart. For years, these conflicting feelings haunted her. To love or not to love, only his admission would matter. Soon, Alexander pulled up to the hotel. Turning to her, he said, "We're here, get out."

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Getty remained seated, her head bowed, her emotions a tangled mess.

"Getty," Alexander called her.

She looked up; her eyes, ringed in black from crying, were a mess, and somewhat frightening. Her voice was hoarse, "Alexander, if I marry someone else tomorrow, would you be upset?" "No."

"..." Getty almost choked on her saliva, glaring at Alexander, "I'm serious!"

But Alexander dodged the question, "Oh, found someone else?"

"It's none of your business! I'm getting married tomorrow," Getty retorted petulantly.

"Fine," Alexander said simply, "get out."This belongs © NôvelDra/ma.Org.

If you're loving the book, nel5s.org is where the adventure continues. Join us for the complete experience-all for free. The next chapter is eagerly waiting for you! Getty panicked, grabbing Alexander, "Don't go, just answer me, even if it's a lie."

"Does it matter?"

"It does..." Getty's voice softened, "I'm afraid I can't go on."

His gaze fixed on her, her expression obscured by shadows.

"There's no need to suffer," Alexander grasped her hand. "If you want to marry, find a good man. I'll treat you the same, before and after."

Getty froze, looking at Alexander quizzically.

"Are you saying, even if I get married, you'll still treat me well?"

"Sure."