Love Unspoken

Had Alexander not saved her back then, Quinn found herself contemplating if she might have found some semblance of happiness by now. Her hope dwindled as a streak of light pierced through the gaps between the leaves, catching her attention.

Quinn's eyelashes fluttered open, and with a painful effort, she lifted her head. Through the pine needles, she discerned a distant silhouette. Gripping her abdomen, she mustered her dwindling strength, laboriously making her way out of the underbrush.

The figure was a considerable distance away, over three hundred feet.

Struggling in silence, Quinn endeavored to close the gap.

She had to save her child...

The source of the light was a flashlight, held by a patrolling security guard.

Regrettably, as she lay prone on the ground, the guard was oblivious to her presence.

The flashlight beam briefly swept in her direction before quickly moving on, and the guard continued his patrol.

As the light and the guard receded, Quinn's hand relaxed, her strength gradually fading.

The last spark of light in her eyes extinguished into darkness.

"Ouch!"

Getty winced in pain, jerking upright from her semi-slumped position on the couch.

"Easy there! That really hurts," she complained.

Her injured leg was in Alexander's grasp. The gash on her calf was deep, and the scab had not yet formed. Sticky, coagulated blood clung to the wound, the surrounding skin bruised and threatening. Alexander had been applying medicine to her wound with a cotton swab, which prodded her wound and nearly brought her to tears.

Alexander glanced at the swab in his hand and sighed. "Just stay still," he advised.

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"I didn't move, you know? You're the one who's getting all distracted while tending to me. Which girl has caught your attention now?" Getty's voice was a playful blend of mock annoyance and flirtation, devoid of any real malice. Alexander glanced at her, a teasing smile playing on his lips, "Which girl?"

"There's a whole parade of them itching to get into your bed. How would I know which one you're thinking of?" Getty retorted, rolling her eyes before adding, "Be gentle, alright? It really hurts. I can't stand the pain." "Whose fault is that?"

"My fault, obviously! It's like pulling teeth just to share a simple meal with you." Getty grumbled.

Alexander responded with silence, picking up the iodine to continue applying it carefully to her wound. His previous distraction was gone.

Observing his newfound focus, a sweet smile spread across Getty's face. He did care about her, didn't he? Certainly more than that dummy ever did.

While they were attending to the wound, the phone on the table rang. It was Kyle.

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Kyle hung up, feeling anxious. He was sure of one thing. Alexander wasn't asleep. He just didn't pick up the call because he'd guessed what Kyle wanted to say. Alexander understood everything. He was just too cold-hearted sometimes.

Seeing Alexander's continued silence, Getty started fiddling with her phone again, then suddenly sat up with a thought.

"Sweetheart, do you remember my birthday?" she asked.

"November twenty-fifth," Alexander replied without lifting his head, his voice devoid of emotion, yet his accuracy gave Getty a deep sense of satisfaction.This is the property of Nô-velDrama.Org.

A man like him remembered her birthday. Probably not many had such a privilege.

Content with this thought, Getty's face blossomed into a radiant smile. "Good, you didn't forget. But don't you dare give me a half-hearted celebration this year?" "It's done. You should get some rest." Alexander said, putting down her foot and standing up. "I'll be off now."

The smile vanished from Getty's face as she grabbed him in panic, "You're leaving again?"