“Birds of a feather...” Lloyd murmured to the silence of his room. He lay in bed, his unfocused eyes cast upon the ceiling above him. The house was draped in the quiet hush of night, and Chloe was already lost to the world of dreams. His own slumber, however, remained elusive—held hostage by the cyclone of thoughts whirling within him.
Chloe had finally bared the scars of her past to him. Though he’d suspected the grim nature of her upbringing, the truth was far darker than any shadow his conjectures could cast. Given the darkness that marred his own history, Lloyd understood the depths of her suffering all too well, compelling him to envelop her within his protective embrace. Just as she had comforted him, wept for him, accepted him on that night, he yearned to offer her the same.
“...Absurd,” he muttered, putting a cap on his thoughts. Even thinking about it now made his stomach churn, his blood boil. If those who had inflicted so much pain on Chloe, who had forced her into servitude, were before him at that very moment, he would cut them down where they stood—he was certain of it. Yet his knightly oath anchored him, creating a tumultuous storm of opposing emotions: his unwavering loyalty to duty and justice, and his burning desire for swift, vengeful retribution.
The ever-placid lake of Lloyd’s emotions had been stirred into a raging tempest. He understood why, even if only faintly. Chloe, his housekeeper, this girl of incredible strength and kindness, had become irreplaceable to him.
His mind was catapulted back to their earlier conversation.
I can’t imagine a life without you anymore.
What do you...mean by that?
Because I’m in love with you—were the words that clawed their way up his throat, only to be swallowed down.
He recognized—maybe he had for some time now—that his feelings for Chloe had long outstripped the affection one might normally have for a housekeeper. If asked to pinpoint the source of this attraction, he could speak until the break of dawn and still have a thousand words left unsaid. But her kindness, resilience, and the virtues she possessed which he did not were the simplest reasons he could offer.
And yet, Lloyd had bitten back his confession. It wasn’t for a lack of courage, but for a far more sinister belief that had long taken root in his heart: I am undeserving of love—of being loved.
At the heart of this internal struggle was his burgeoning desire for Chloe—a longing quickly spiraling out of his control. If only he were truly free, he’d rush to Chloe’s room this instant, just to behold her face, listen to her voice, caress her hair, and hold her in his arms.
And then, he’d confess his true emotions.
His senses quickly restrained these chaotic impulses. What right do you have? a whisper from the darkest corners of his consciousness cautioned. Behind a crimson-stained veil, a face—familiar, yet foreign—stared back at him from the shadows of his mind.
“Even still, I...”
Ensnared in his turmoil, Lloyd eventually slipped into an uneasy slumber. When morning light pierced through his window, he awoke feeling anything but refreshed, and yet blissfully unaware of the events that the new day would bring.