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Chapter_73
Quinn’s heart ached as she listened to Abigail’s voice crack with pain and frustration. It was a side of her friend that Quinn had never encountered before—raw, vulnerable, and disillusioned. Abigail, the woman who had once been so confident, now seemed lost in a sea of betrayal and loneliness. The world had turned its back on her, and her sharp edges had dulled into something more bitter and desolate.
“You’re not the monster, Abigail,” Quinn finally said, her voice soft but firm. “People do horrible things, but that doesn’t mean they’re monsters. They just make choices—sometimes bad ones. And those people who’ve hurt you… they’re not worth your time or energy.”
Abigail’s chuckle sounded hollow. “Yeah, well, maybe you’re right. But it’s hard to see it that way when every time you turn around, someone’s throwing stones at you.” There was a long pause before she added, almost as an afterthought, “It’s funny though… how I’m starting to think maybe Alexander’s not so bad after all. He’s been… consistent. At least you know where you stand with him.”
Quinn felt a strange knot form in her stomach. Her feelings for Alexander were complicated, to say the least. He was possessive, demanding, and at times terrifying—but there was something about his brutal honesty that Quinn couldn’t entirely disregard. She had always thought of him as a man of contradictions, but hearing Abigail, of all people, speak with a hint of respect—or at least a form of begrudging understanding—was unsettling.
“Yeah, well,” Quinn said slowly, trying to clear the lingering tension in her voice. “At least he doesn’t pretend to be someone he’s not.”
Abigail snorted bitterly. “And that’s something, right?”
Quinn’s thoughts swirled back to her own fragile emotions—her miscarriage, the strain on her marriage, the silent tension with Alexander. Life had been like a twisted game of survival lately, with each day feeling like a battle. Yet, somehow, she had found solace in Juliet’s quiet companionship, in the idea of giving her something meaningful to hold onto. But even in that, Quinn couldn’t shake the creeping feeling that she was only temporarily soothing her own loneliness by doing so.
“Well, listen, Abigail, I didn’t call just to check in on you,” Quinn continued, her voice slightly sharper now, as though trying to regain some semblance of control. “I’m worried about you. You need help. You can’t keep dealing with everything on your own. We’ve all made mistakes, but that doesn’t mean we have to keep carrying them alone.”
Abigail’s voice softened, a trace of vulnerability returning. “Yeah… I guess I’m starting to see that. It’s just hard, Quinn. I don’t know where to go from here. I’ve lost everything I thought I knew.”
Quinn paused, her mind racing for the right words. “You don’t have to have it all figured out right now,” she said, her voice tender yet firm. “But you have me, okay? We’ll figure it out together.”
There was a brief silence before Abigail finally spoke again, her voice thick with emotion. “Thanks, Quinn. I needed to hear that.”
Quinn’s chest tightened as she ended the call, her mind still occupied by the weight of their conversation. As she sat there, Juliet entered the room, holding a steaming cup of ginger tea in her hands, her kind smile a stark contrast to the storm of thoughts in Quinn’s head.
“Here you go, dear,” Juliet said, handing her the cup.
Quinn took it, the warmth of the tea seeping into her hands, offering a sense of comfort that had nothing to do with the situation she had just left behind. She forced a smile, looking up at Juliet. “Thank you.”
Juliet studied her for a moment, concern flickering in her eyes. “What’s troubling you, Quinn? You look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
Quinn hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. But something in Juliet’s steady gaze prompted her to open up, just a little. “It’s Abigail. She’s… going through a lot. And I don’t know how to help her. I feel like I’m losing her.”
Juliet nodded understandingly, her voice soft. “Sometimes, helping others starts with helping ourselves. You can’t carry everything, Quinn. You’re not alone in this.”
Quinn stared at her, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. Juliet’s words were simple, yet they felt like a balm to her wounded heart. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear that, how much she needed to believe it.
“I know,” Quinn whispered. “But sometimes, it’s hard to believe that anyone can really help.”
Juliet placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to carry it all alone, not anymore.”
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Quinn allowed herself to lean into that comfort, to believe in it. Maybe she couldn’t fix everything, but for the first time in a long while, she felt a glimmer of hope—hope that there were people in her life who would stand by her, no matter what.
