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Love Unspoken

Chapter 190
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Quinn's lips formed two silent words: Don't go.

Alexander cast his gaze down at her, watching as she continued to grapple with the challenge of lip-reading, her

efforts awkward yet unerringly accurate. "Please," she begged.

His voice, when he finally spoke, was a low murmur, devoid of the fury that had previously laced his words.

"Beggingnow, don't you think it's too late?"

Regardless, Quinn shook her head, her arms tightening around him in a desperate embrace. She knew well

enough that he didn't harbor any love for her, but this gesture had always served to quell his anger. It might not

sway his decision, but it could at least soothe his wrath.

She nuzzled her cheek against his chest, much like a kitten seeking the comfort of its owner. It was a touch so

tender that no one could remain unaffected.

He seemed more composed than before, yet he made no move to return her embrace. Quinn tilted her head

upwards once more, standing on her tiptoes in an attempt to kiss him. Her clumsy eagerness slowly ignited a

spark in his eyes. Suddenly, his hand rose, cradling the back of her head, deepening the kiss. He lifted her into

his arms, moving purposefully towards the bed.

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Quinn tensed momentarily, but then allowed herself to relax, her eyes fluttering shut as she responded to his

kiss. His anger often manifested in rough, almost violent kisses that sometimes left her skin bruised.

It was in these rare, intense moments that she felt truly cherished by him. Fleeting as a blossom that withers at

dawn, it was this single thread of hope that had kept her tethered to him all these years. But now, the fervor of

her feelings seemed to be ebbing. He had asked her not to love him, and perhaps... just perhaps, she was

nearing the point of granting his wish.

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Quinn's eyelids fluttered, and slowly, she allowed them to close as a single tear traced a path down her cheek.

Exhausted, she surrendered to the enveloping darkness.

When she stirred awake, her hand instinctively reached out to the space beside her, expecting to encounter

nothing more than the cold, empty expanse of the sheets. But this time, her hand brushed against a firm, warm

chest. Quinn's eyes snapped open in surprise.

Their gazes locked - his, deep and inscrutable. Her breath hitched, and she reached out tentatively to touch his

face, half-convinced that she was hallucinating. His skin was warm to the touch, the sensation undeniably real.

And his hand was holding hers. They remained thus, their eyes locked in a silent communion where words were

unnecessary.

Alexander's hand traced a path along her brow and eyes, his morning voice husky and raw. "There's something

missing in your eyes," he murmured, seemingly to himself.

Quinn merely gazed at him, her silence eloquent.

He didn't wait for a response, continuing on his own, "I don't like the way you look at me."

With a sigh, he turned to lie on his back beside her, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as he lost himself in thought.

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Quinn's lashes fluttered as she

studied his chiseled profiler Ejes

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eyentudty we ing in melancholy.

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The silence stretched between them.

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She couldn't tell how much thad

passed when she finally remermpered

her rel Teatatitdly) she Prodded

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Afexande Cshoulder with a finger.

He turned his head towards her, his

silence inviting her to speak. The

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