Love Unspoken

With a wave of her hand, Quinn expressed her gratitude. "Thanks for the help. I'm alright now," she said, her voice steady. A smile tugged at the corners of Walter's lips, his gaze landing on the packet of medicine resting on the coffee table. "That's good to hear," he replied, a hint of concern in his voice. "You feeling sick?"

In a swift movement, Quinn snatched the medicine from the table, hastily tucking it away in a drawer. "Just a minor cold," she signed, her expression unreadable.

Walter nodded in understanding. "Even a minor cold needs care. The flu's bad this time of year," he said, his tone gentle.

Quinn stared at him, her lips pursed tightly. He seemed in no hurry to leave. She gestured towards the door, her meaning clear. "Alexander is with Getty. He likely won't be back."

Despite her implied request for him to leave, he seemed oblivious. "This is his place. Why wouldn't he return? I'll wait. I've been waiting a while anyway," he responded, his voice steady.

Quinn fell silent. Being alone with him brought an inexplicable feeling of unease and fear, a feeling that reminded her of the suffocation from her dream.

She even suspected Walter had been the one who suffocated her, attempting to kill her.Under the pretense of fetching him water, Quinn stood up and moved to a seat across from him, putting some distance between them. Walter's face remained friendly, his wavy hair falling to one side. His features were gentle, almost disarming.Breaking the silence, he said, "I've got something on my mind, not sure if I should speak up."

Quinn glanced at him, her curiosity piqued.

"You see Alexander hanging out with that Getty every day. Doesn't that make you mad?" Walter asked, his tone casual.

His question caught Quinn off guard. She paused, wrestling with a response.

"Have you ever thought about getting a divorce?" he asked, his voice gentle yet persuasive. Quinn pressed her lips together, contemplating. The thought had crossed her mind more times than she could count, but the decision to divorce was never truly hers to make.

"Do you want a divorce?" Walter probed further, his voice soft yet compelling. With each word, Quinn felt a knot tighten in her chest. His voice had an unnerving allure, and her fingers unconsciously clenched.Ccontent © exclusive by Nô/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

He watched her intently, as if trying to see into her very soul. A slight smile curved his lips as he whispered with conviction, "You want a divorce." It wasn't a question but a statement so sure of itself.

Quinn turned away, unable to meet his hypnotic gaze. It was devilish, capable of luring one into the depths of hell.Unfazed by her reaction, Walter pulled out a business card from his pocket and slid it across the table towards her. Through her peripheral vision, Quinn noticed that the card bore nothing but a name and a phone number. There was no description, no title.

"You might want to give him a call," he suggested softly. Standing up, he added, "Looks like Oliver won't be coming back tonight, so I'll leave you be." With those final words, he walked away, quickly fading into the background, leaving behind nothing but the business card on the table.

Quinn's hand moved almost of its own accord. She picked up the business card and gazed blankly at the printed number. Her grip tightened, her knuckles turning white as memories of recent events flashed through her mind. The termination of a pregnancy, Abigail being ambushed by garbage thrown on the street, Juliet being taken away without mercy.

And the words the doctor had spoken to her just a while ago. The memories choked her, making even breathing seem like a Herculean task. Compelled, Quinn pulled out her phone and added the number to her contacts. Within seconds, she had connected with the person on social media.