6. Whispher in tmoonlight

After that incident, I instructed my servants to lock that door for a while, hoping to prevent anyone, including Bianca, from stumbling into the space that seemed to hold more than just old memories. It was as if the room had absorbed the essence of our pain, becoming a portal to the shadows of our past. The very air around it felt heavy, oppressive, and alive with echoes of what we had both tried so hard to bury.

I couldn't bear the thought of her stepping foot in there again, not until I understood what had triggered such a visceral reaction. Whatever torment she was enduring, it was bound to the secrets hidden within those walls, secrets I hadn't yet unraveled but that seemed intent on consuming us both. For now, sealing that door felt like the only way to keep her safe, even if it meant I had to confront the storm alone.

Then I told Charles how the investigation went, recounting every detail with a mixture of frustration and unease. He listened intently, his sharp eyes narrowing as I described the strange aura of the room and Bianca's breakdown.

"I locked the door," I concluded, leaning back in my chair and running a hand through my hair. "I couldn't let her go through that again, not until we understand what's happening. But something tells me there's more to this than just old memories."

Charles nodded slowly, his fingers drumming on the table. "You're right. This isn't just about her past it's about yours too, isn't it? That room... whatever's hidden in there, it's tied to both of you. We need to dig deeper."

I sighed, knowing he was right, but the thought of reopening wounds I had long tried to forget filled me with dread. "I don't even know where to start, Charles. The investigation barely scratched the surface. It's like the truth is deliberately buried."

"Then we dig harder," he said firmly, his voice steady and resolute. "If the past is coming for you, it's better to face it on your terms."

I plan on taking Bianca on a vacation to help her calm down, hoping the change of scenery will give her the peace she desperately needs. After finalizing the arrangements, I decide to check on her, quietly making my way to her room.

The door creaks softly as I push it open, revealing her resting figure bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains. She's finally asleep, her face calm for the first time in days, a stark contrast to the anguish she had endured earlier.

I step closer, my movements careful not to disturb her. For a moment, I simply stand there, watching her breathe steadily. Relief floods through me, but with it comes a pang of guilt and fear.

Leaning against the doorframe, I let out a soft sigh, my voice barely audible. "Thanks that you're sleeping," I whisper, the words catching in my throat. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

I pause for a moment, replaying my own words in my mind. Am I crazy? Why did I say that? The vulnerability in my voice had startled even me, as though the depth of my emotions had slipped out before I could stop them.

Shaking my head at myself, I take a tentative step closer to her, unable to resist the pull of her peaceful expression. Sitting down gently on the edge of the bed, I reach out, my fingers brushing against her hair.

Carefully, I stroke it, the strands soft and cool beneath my fingertips. It's a small, tender gesture, but it feels like the only way I can convey everything I'm too afraid to say aloud. "You've been so strong," I murmur under my breath, more to myself than to her. "But you don't have to do this alone, Bianca. I'll be here, no matter what."

For a moment, the world feels still, the storm of our shared burdens fading into the background. I silently promise myself that I'll do whatever it takes to protect her, even if it means facing the shadows that haunt us both.

"This time, I can't lose her too—I won't let that happen again, not to the cruel hands of fate, not to the ghosts of our past that claw at the edges of our sanity, and certainly not to the darkness that lingers, waiting for a moment of weakness to pull her under. I will fight for her, shield her from the nightmares that threaten to consume her, even if it means unraveling every painful secret buried in that cursed room, even if it means confronting the demons that neither of us were ever ready to face. Because losing her is not an option—not now, not ever."

I swallow hard, my chest tightening as I watch her sleep—peaceful, for the first time in days. I should be relieved, but instead, all I feel is guilt. Guilt that I couldn't protect her from whatever horrors that room had stirred, guilt that I had let things go this far.

My voice wavers as I whisper, "You don't have to do this alone, Bianca. I won't let you."

My hands clench into fists, a storm of emotions swirling inside me—fear, determination, desperation. I lean in slightly, lowering my voice to a fragile promise.

"Even if it means losing myself in the process, I will not lose you."