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Chapter_26
Quinn bit her lip, her gaze locked with Alexander’s, but he only met her with an unblinking, piercing silence. The weight of his indifference settled over her like a heavy cloak.
Oliver, growing visibly more agitated, couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Abigail, can you just stop? This isn’t your business!”
Abigail’s voice was firm, resolute. “She’s my friend. Her problems are my problems. I’m seeing this through. They have to get a divorce—”
“Enough!” Oliver’s shout cut through the room, his voice raw with frustration.
The sharp sound of a slap rang out, slicing through the tense air in the office, leaving everyone in stunned silence.
Oliver had struck Abigail with brutal force, and a red mark bloomed on her cheek. Abigail’s hand flew to her face, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. She stared at Oliver, whose fury had now been replaced by something much more complicated—guilt, maybe, but also something darker. His emotions were a storm, too complex to untangle in that moment.
Quinn, standing frozen, couldn’t believe what she had just witnessed. After a long, painful pause, she wrenched herself free from Abigail’s grip, her heart pounding in her chest. Abigail didn’t try to stop her. Instead, she stood there silently, her gaze following Quinn as she walked away.
Quinn’s steps were slow, her mind clouded with a thousand conflicting thoughts. She reached the door and turned to face Alexander. Getty was still there, clinging to him like a lifeline, her hand wrapped tightly around his arm. Quinn’s gaze flicked to them both, a bitter, wry smile tugging at her lips. They’re a match made in heaven, she thought, and I’m the one who doesn’t belong here.
Without another word, Quinn turned her back on them, the door clicking shut behind her as she left the chaos of the office and all its tangled emotions behind.
As Oliver led Abigail away, they passed by Alexander. Abigail’s voice, low and seething with anger, cut through the air. “Alexander, you better not live to regret this.”
Outside, the rain continued to fall, casting a pale, misty veil over the city. Getty trailed behind Alexander at a distance, her lips pressed into a thin line, sensing the anger radiating from him.
When they reached the parking lot, Alexander stopped in his tracks. “You drive back alone,” he said, his voice cold and final.
“Aren’t you coming with me?” Getty asked, reaching out to him, her voice soft with an underlying desperation. “Come to my place. I’ll make dinner.”
Alexander pulled his hand away with a dismissive gesture. “I’ve got things to handle. Just go.” He didn’t look back as he slid into his car, leaving Getty standing alone in the rain, watching him drive off.
Meanwhile, Quinn wandered aimlessly. She had no destination in mind, mirroring the emptiness inside her. She boarded a city bus, the rain plastering her hair to her face, her thoughts adrift in a fog of confusion and heartache. Her fingers brushed her lower abdomen as she gazed out the window, the blurry cityscape offering no answers. The bus would eventually reach its final stop, just as her life seemed to be heading toward an uncertain conclusion.
The bus driver, noticing her silent solitude, glanced back several times, but Quinn stood unmoving, lost in her thoughts. The bus was nearly empty, and as it approached its final stop, the driver called out softly, “Miss, this is the last stop.”
Quinn snapped back to reality with a start. She nodded her thanks to the driver before stepping off the bus.
She found herself in an unfamiliar neighborhood, the buildings modest and no taller than eight or nine stories. People hurried by, umbrellas raised against the rain. Quinn, with no clear purpose, wandered through the streets, her mind a whirl of emotions. Eventually, she stopped in front of a small, unassuming spaghetti restaurant. It was late afternoon, and the place was almost empty.
The owner, seeing her hesitation outside, mistook her pause for worry about the cost. He approached with a kind smile, his voice warm. “Come in. You don’t have to pay.”
Once inside, Quinn took a seat at one of the tables. Moments later, a steaming bowl of spaghetti was placed before her. She looked up at the owner, his compassionate smile offering her a kindness she hadn’t known in a long time. Her lips trembled, and tears began to fall, unbidden, down her face. In that small, humble restaurant, a stranger offered her warmth, a stark contrast to the cold, cutting treatment she had received from those closest to her.
