Lloyd is acting strange.
The troubling thought occurred to Chloe as they sat at the dinner table that evening. The typically composed knight was unusually withdrawn, his meal consumed in silence, his brow furrowed in a persistent frown.
He seems down, and even more quiet than usual. Even the unexpected head pat... Well, those are always unexpected, but still, something just doesn’t feel right.
Since they’d been living together, Chloe had become adept at detecting the minute changes in Lloyd’s mood.
Did something happen at work? Did he make a mistake? Was he reprimanded by Freddy for it?
Almost always, Lloyd returned home at the exact same time. Yet today, he’d been early, directing Chloe to the conclusion that perhaps an incident at work had been the catalyst for the change in his demeanor.
Unless...
But there was another, far more terrifying explanation for Lloyd’s behavior, and as it dawned on Chloe, she felt her lips tighten in nervousness. What if she was the reason behind Lloyd’s sullen mood? The possibility sent a wave of anxiety through her.
No, no, no, bad Chloe!
She shook her head almost violently in an attempt to dispel the negative thoughts. It was an old habit of hers, this tendency to spiral into self-doubt, to blame herself. But since being with Lloyd, she had come to recognize these thoughts for what they were: unfounded assumptions, creations of her own worried mind.
No more of that, she silently reprimanded herself.
Composing herself, Chloe addressed Lloyd. “Do you like the roast beef, Lloyd? It’s compliments of Miss Ciel. I thought it looked quite nice, but...”
“The roast beef? Looks perfect.”
“And these carrots—aren’t they sweet? Miss Ciel never lets me down.”
“Sweet? You’re right, she certainly doesn’t.”
The conversation dwindled, leaving only the sound of silverware against plates as they ate in silence. Despite her efforts, Chloe’s mind couldn’t help but circle back to the nagging thought: It is me, isn’t it?
Perhaps this isn’t just me being negative, Chloe thought. Given his reaction, could there be a real issue between us?
“Lloyd?” Chloe ventured cautiously.
“Yes?” came his quick response.
A crucial question lingered on Chloe’s tongue: Did I do something wrong? She wanted to ask, to clear the air, but the words wouldn’t come, stopping just shy of her throat. “Never mind, it’s nothing,” she said instead.
The root of her hesitation wasn’t the question itself, but the potential implications of Lloyd’s answer. Their recent confession of love was too fresh on her mind. Chloe had confessed her feelings to Lloyd, and Lloyd had reciprocated unequivocally.
Unequivocally, but...
How sure can you be of his sincerity, really? that incessant devil on her shoulder whispered. Lloyd is inherently kind. There’s a chance he reciprocated merely to spare your feelings.
What if she had somehow exploited Lloyd’s kindness? In a moment of vulnerability, Lloyd might have offered a response he never truly meant. Now, if Chloe dared to express her uncertainties, she risked uncovering a painful truth. Perhaps Lloyd had been pretending all along. The mere possibility was enough to make Chloe’s heart cry out in pain.
But then, she remembered something else. It was a conversation she had with Lloyd soon after they met.
Did you say you had any dislikes, by the way?
I dislike injustice, untruths, and the irrational.
Yes, untruths—Lloyd had been clear about his disdain for dishonesty. A man so steadfast in his principles would not lie, not even out of politeness. This wasn’t mere conjecture; Chloe had seen Lloyd live by this creed every day.
How can it be you, Chloe, the angel on her shoulder countered, when he stroked your hair with such care earlier?
And with that, Chloe found herself right back where she started, unable to decipher Lloyd’s off behavior. Yet, just as she was about to delve deeper into her thoughts, a startling observation jolted her mind off course. “Lloyd, your hand...”
Lloyd grunted in discomfort and surprise. He set down his fork and extended his hand across the table, revealing a sizable scrape, raw and slightly inflamed. “I didn’t even notice...” he murmured. The mark was a result of his stumble earlier in the day.
Chloe didn’t hesitate. “Wait right there.” She quickly stood and hurried out of the room, then returned moments later with the first aid kit.
“Something like this will heal on its own,” Lloyd said, trying to dismiss her concern.
But Chloe was resolute. “I won’t hear it. Any wound needs proper care,” she said as she took out disinfectant and bandages.
“You’re worried about me?”
“Of course I am!” Chloe exclaimed, louder than intended. She gasped, taken aback by the forcefulness of her own voice, and looked to Lloyd to gauge his reaction. He didn’t look upset; either happy or embarrassed, but she couldn’t tell which. It only flustered her further. To distract herself, she gently took hold of Lloyd’s hand.
Lloyd’s hand... It was so different from hers—larger, rougher, darker, and as she took in the contrast, she also realized this was the first time she’d had the opportunity to study his hand in such detail. The skin where his fingers joined his palm was hard as stone, calloused from countless hours gripping a sword’s hilt.
Like a moth to a flame, Chloe found herself mesmerized by the unfamiliar hand before her. Her lingering gaze left Lloyd slightly puzzled. “Chloe?” he finally said.
Startled, Chloe quickly came back to reality. “Oh, sorry. I just couldn’t help myself.”
Couldn’t help myself from doing what? Chloe wondered to herself. Her actions were a mystery, even to her. Despite the whirlwind of uncertain feelings inside her, she carefully cleaned Lloyd’s wound with a gentle touch, then securely wrapped it with a bandage. “That should do it,” she announced, tying off the last of the gauze. The wound wasn’t severe, so the task had been brief.