**KYLA's POV**
I lay on my bed, my mind racing with thoughts of Gibson. He had been on my mind constantly, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right. I didn't want to believe that he had tried to kill Henry, but the evidence was mounting, and I was unable to ignore it.
I sighed, feeling a sense of unease wash over me. Likewise, I had always trusted Gibson and had always believed in him. But now, I wasn't so sure.
I called out for my maid, Kira, who entered the room with a quiet curtsy. “Yes, milady?” she asked, her eyes cast downward.
I sat up in bed, my back against the headboard. “Kira, I need to talk to you about something,” I said, my voice low.
Kira's eyes flicked up to mine, a hint of curiosity in their depths. “Of course, milady,” she said, her voice neutral.
“I want to know what you think about what happened to Henry,” I said, studying Kira's expression.
Kira's face remained impassive, but I could sense a hint of hesitation behind her eyes. “I don't know what you mean, milady,” she said, her voice cautious.
I raised an eyebrow. “Don't play dumb with me, Kira,” I said, a hint of amusement in my voice. “I know you've heard the rumors. I want to know what you think.”
Kira's eyes darted around the room as if searching for an escape route. “Milady, I'm just a maid,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don't have any opinions on such matters.”
I chuckled, a low, throaty sound. “Kira, you're not fooling anyone,” I said, my eyes glinting with amusement. “I know you've got opinions. You're one of the most opinionated people I know.”
Kira's face turned bright red, and she looked away, trying to hide a smile. “Milady, you're teasing me,” she said, her voice playful.
I grinned, feeling a sense of camaraderie with my maid. “Maybe a little,” I said, my voice light. “But I'm also serious, Kira. I need to know what you think. You're one of the few people I trust.”
Kira's expression turned serious, and she looked at me with a thoughtful gaze. “Milady, I don't know what to say,” she said, her voice measured. “I don't know what happened that night, but I do know that Gibson is a complex person. He's not always easy to read.”
I nodded, my mind racing with thoughts. “That's true,” I said, my voice low. “Gibson can be… mercurial. But that doesn't mean he's capable of trying to kill someone.”
Kira's eyes flicked up to mine, a hint of surprise in their depths. “You don't think he did it, milady?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
I hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Part of me wanted to believe that Gibson was innocent, but another part of me was torn. The evidence was mounting, and I couldn't ignore it.
“I don't know, Kira,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “I just don't know.”
I walked out of my room, determined to talk to Gibson and clear the air. I missed us, and this rift between us was killing me. Not only that, but I could still hear the pain in his voice, the hurt that I didn't trust him. It was like a knife to my heart.
As I made my way to his room, I noticed that his door was open, and things were scattered all over the floor. I raised an eyebrow, wondering what had happened. Gibson was always so near, it was unlike him to leave his room in disarray.
I stepped inside, calling out to him. “Gibson?”
But before he could respond, I saw him say something that made my blood run cold. “I should have killed him,” he muttered to himself, his fist clenched in anger.
My heart skipped a beat as I realized who he was talking about. Henry. Gibson was talking about Henry.
“Gibson!” I called out, my voice firm but shaking slightly.
Gibson's head snapped up, and he looked at me with a mixture of anger and guilt. “Kyla,” he said, his voice low and rough.
I took a step forward, my eyes locked on his. “What's going on, Gibson?” I asked, my voice firm. “What's happening to you?”
Gibson's expression changed, and he looked away, his jaw clenched in anger. “Nothing, Kyla,” he said, his voice cold. “Just leave me alone.”
But I couldn't leave him alone. Not now, not when I had seen the anger and hatred in his eyes. I took another step forward, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Gibson, look at me,” I said, my voice soft but firm.
Gibson's head snapped up, and he looked at me, his eyes blazing with anger. But as he looked into my eyes, I saw something else there, something that gave me hope.
I saw love. I saw the love that we shared, the love that was still burning bright despite the rift between us.
“Gibson,” I said, my voice soft. “I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you.”
Gibson's expression changed, and he looked at me with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. “Kyla,” he said, his voice low and rough.
And then, in a move that surprised me, Gibson reached out and pulled me into his arms, holding me close as if he would never let me go.
I wrapped my arms around him, holding him tight as we stood there, locked in a fierce embrace. It was like the whole world had melted away, leaving only us, lost in our little world of love and passion.
As we stood there, I knew that I had made the right decision. I had chosen to trust Gibson, to believe in him, and to stand by him no matter what.
And as I looked into his eyes, I knew that I would never regret it.
As I held Gibson in my arms, I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over me. We were together, and that's all that mattered. But, deep down, I wanted to know why he said, "he should have killed him”. Who was he talking about? And why did he want to kill them?
But I shrugged the thought aside. I just wanted to be around my husband at that moment. I relaxed his head on my thigh and patted his hair, feeling a sense of calm wash over me.