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Novel Catalog
Chapter_69
Quinn sat on the couch, her body slumped in a way that suggested she could easily fade into the shadows if she wished. Her skin had the ashen hue of someone who had already been lost to the world for far too long. Alexander, ever the distant figure, stood behind her, gently drying her hair with a towel. The rhythmic motion of the towel through her ebony locks was a stark contrast to the turmoil within her. It was almost mechanical, as though the act was devoid of any emotional connection—just a simple task to complete, and nothing more.
Her gaze remained distant, unfocused, as though she were looking right through the walls. She wondered, in her quiet agony, whether it was worse to be ignored or to be constantly reminded of her unimportant existence. She couldn’t tell if Alexander knew what had transpired at the Kennedy Residence, or if he simply didn’t care to ask. His silence spoke volumes, but it didn’t offer her the comfort she so desperately needed.
But then again, how could a dummy feel pain? she mocked herself silently, the bitterness flowing freely now.
As Alexander finished drying her hair, he moved to grab the hairdryer, running it carefully through her wet strands, drying each one with a tenderness that felt out of place considering his demeanor. She didn’t flinch; she didn’t speak. She barely breathed. It was as though time had stopped for her, and even in her exhaustion, she felt trapped in that moment of stillness. The air between them felt thick with unspoken words.
The serenity, however, was broken by the sharp trill of a phone ringing. Alexander immediately set the hairdryer down and reached for his phone, stepping away from her to answer it. Quinn, who had been lost in a sea of dark thoughts, stirred slightly as she caught a glimpse of him. Her lashes fluttered once, but her eyes seemed too weary to focus.
Her gaze drifted down to her abdomen, her fingers lightly brushing the spot where life had once stirred—a life now lost. Just like everything else, it felt unwanted. The unborn child she carried was just another reminder of how little she meant in the world around her. She shut her eyes and tried to block out the ache that was starting to spread through her chest.
The call ended quickly, and Alexander returned to her side, his expression unreadable as he ruffled her hair absentmindedly. “Get some rest,” he said softly, though his tone lacked any real warmth. “I have to step out.”
Quinn looked up, her face pale, but for a moment, she forced a smile. It was tentative, unsure, a fleeting attempt to hold onto something—anything—that might bring her comfort. She nodded, but the gesture felt hollow, as though she were giving in to a routine rather than choosing to believe in his words.
Alexander’s brow furrowed as he turned to leave. The words that followed stung, even if they were meant to be dismissive. “Next time she calls you, ring me.” His back was to her now, and before he exited the room, he didn’t bother to glance back. He was already walking away, his figure receding into the distance of the villa.
Quinn’s smile faltered as she watched him go. There was no “next time.” She could feel it in her bones. The weight of his departure pressed down on her, and she curled up into herself, once again alone in the vast, empty villa. The walls seemed to close in, and she could almost hear the cold echo of her own thoughts.
Time seemed to slow in the silence that followed. Her heart was heavy, her body sore from the emotional and physical toll that had piled up over the days. A sharp pain suddenly shot through her abdomen, and she gasped, clutching at her stomach as the cruel reminder of her failing body overwhelmed her. The pain was sharp and unrelenting, a reminder that no matter how much she wished to be free, life continued to betray her.
With shaking hands, Quinn managed to pull herself up from the couch. She staggered toward the medicine cabinet, desperation clear in every unsteady step she took. Her hands trembled as she fumbled with the bottle of painkillers, the lid slipping from her grasp and sending pills scattering across the floor. As she sank to her knees to collect them, sweat beaded on her forehead, her breath coming in short gasps. Every movement seemed to require more energy than she had left, but she couldn’t stop. Not now.
With difficulty, she gathered the pills one by one, pressing them into her mouth. The bitterness of the medication mixed with the sharp tang of despair in her throat. She didn’t know if it was the pills or the anguish that caused the tightness in her chest, but it didn’t matter. She forced herself to swallow, to push past the unbearable feeling that threatened to suffocate her.
She collapsed onto the floor, her sobs wracking her fragile body as she lay there in the silence. The rain continued its soft rhythm against the window, the only sound in the otherwise empty house. The loneliness was deafening. Quinn’s breath was ragged as she tried to regain control of herself, but each sob seemed to drain her further.
Eventually, she managed to pull herself up again. Her movements were slow and disoriented, but her eyes fell on a paring knife that lay on the counter, gleaming in the dim light. Her steps were hesitant as she shuffled toward it, her hand reaching for the handle. It felt cold, detached in her grip. The blade caught the light, reflecting the harshness of the world around her as she stared blankly at it.
It flickered with a thousand unspoken thoughts, a thousand painful memories. Each flash seemed to offer an answer that she couldn’t bring herself to embrace. It wasn’t just the knife—it was everything. Everything that had led her to this moment. But still, she stared at it, lost, unable to move forward and unwilling to go back.
