Love Unspoken

Abigail checked the time; Alexander should be back soon. She got up, said goodbye to Quinn, and left.

'Better to leave early than get kicked out,' she thought.

Sure enough, as soon as she stepped out of the villa, she saw Alexander's car pulling in.

The car drove right past her without stopping, like he didn't even see her.

Abigail muttered a few curses under her breath and sped off on her motorcycle.

Quinn carefully finished coloring her painting, but her clumsy hands turned the figures in her painting into three blobs of colorful mess.

Still, she was pretty pleased with herself.

She took the painting down and puffed her cheeks to blow on it.

When she felt the painting was dry enough, she stood up with a smile, ready to save her masterpiece.

Just as she turned around, she bumped into someone and stumbled back a few steps.

Alexander caught her by the waist and pulled her back.

She rubbed her forehead and looked up at him. He was still in his usual black clothes, making it easy to recognize.

Ignoring the pain, she eagerly unfolded her painting to show him her masterpiece. "Isn't my painting beautiful?"

Alexander looked at the painting, trying to figure out what it was. He wanted to ask about the blobs, but seeing her eyes curved in a smile, her face covered in colorful paint, he couldn't do it. She looked at him expectantly, hoping for a compliment.

He tactfully asked, "What did you paint?"

"Daddy, Mommy, and me," she replied happily.

Alexander's expression froze for a moment. He had to look at the blobs again. After a long while, he reluctantly nodded.

"You did a good job," he lied.Text © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

Quinn beamed with joy, carefully folding the painting and tucking it into her pocket.

"But, when can I go home?" she asked, looking at him with hopeful eyes, wishing he could take her home.

She missed her mom's cookies, her dad's cakes, and the wooden figures her grandpa carved. She missed them all.

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Alexander remained silent.

Quinn kept talking, "They'll be so surprised to see how much I've grown."

As she spoke, she spread her arms wide, her words filled with exaggeration and childlike innocence.

Alexander grabbed her wrist and said, "Go wash your face first."

He pulled Quinn towards the bathroom, ignoring her persistent requests to take her home.

She kept on rambling, "Take me home.

"I don't want to stay here; it's no fun.

"I miss Daddy's cakes. I'll share one with you.

"Daddy makes the best cakes. He can make them in all kinds of shapes: rabbits, bears, dogs..."

As she kept talking, Alexander said nothing, wringing out a towel to wipe her hands and face.

Even while washing her face, she couldn't stop talking.

She chattered like a little sparrow, endlessly talking about how great her dad was, how wonderful her mom was, and how annoying her brother was.

By the end, her voice grew softer.

She looked up at Alexander with pitiful eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Alexander paused and looked at her.

Quinn sniffled, saying, "I miss them."

Towel in hand, Alexander gazed into her eyes, his expression unreadable.

Her freshly washed face was flushed, and her pleading eyes looked at him.

Alexander's grip on the towel tightened, the warmth slowly fading, turning cold in his hand.

After a long while, he reached out and cupped her cheek, then wiped away her tears.

"Don't cry," he said softly, his tone hard to decipher.

He asked Quinn, "Don't you want to be with me?"