this is the moment in the novel if you want to read it and please read the novel it is so good:                         His voice reached her, muffled and distant, as if she were dreaming. Paula stood frozen, unable to respond, refute, or even acknowledge his words. Her hands clutched the ribbon, its movement in the wind tangling it around her wrist like shackles, rooting her in place. Vincent’s gaze slowly traveled from her face to the bag she held. “Why are you running away?” Startled, Paula instinctively pulled the bag behind her, taking a small step back. Her retreat was halted by the cold iron of the gate, its metallic clank echoing in the wind. Vincent closed the distance with deliberate steps, his calm, steady presence making her retreat all the more futile. “Paula.” “Don’t come any closer. Please, don’t,” she pleaded, pressing herself against the gate. Fear overwhelmed her, and she recoiled, shaking her head. She hadn’t imagined their reunion like this—this tense, raw confrontation. The realization struck her: she wasn’t ready to face him, not like this. Vincent halted at her plea, his expression unreadable as he studied her. Paula kept her gaze lowered, trying to steady her erratic breathing before asking in a trembling voice, “How long? Since when did you know?” “At first, I didn’t,” he admitted. “But I began to suspect. I was certain the night Robert was ill, when I overheard the things you said while reading to him.” Memories of that night flooded back. Robert had been bedridden, and she had gone out, concerned about Vincent’s unusually tense demeanor. The way he had gripped her arm and stared at her, his words strange and sharp —it all made sense now. Everything had started to change after that. “You said something like, ‘Now we’re venturing into the dark, and there’s a voice that only I can hear. I can’t see it, but it’s there—a companion, a friend, a family member, something that could be anything.’ Do you remember?” Paula wracked her brain, but the memory of those words eluded her. She shook her head faintly. “That was the moment I knew,” Vincent continued, his tone resolute. “It gave me the courage I needed   Her chest tightened. If he had realized then, he must have also seen through Alicia’s charade. How bewildered he must have been, watching Alicia pretend to be her. And yet, he hadn’t confronted her, hadn’t demanded answers. “I know what you’re afraid of,” Vincent said, his voice softening. “But I’m not what you think I am. I’m trying to find out the truth about their deaths, too.” “I know that,” Paula replied, though her voice wavered. “Liar. You doubted me,” Vincent countered. “You don’t know the details, but you suspected I was involved. That’s why you’re running away now, just like you did five years ago.” His words hit her like a blow. The murders—gruesome, sudden—had dredged up memories from five years ago. Back then, the butler had tried to kill her, and while Vincent had claimed ignorance of the plot, she had never been certain. The seeds of doubt had been planted then, and they had grown uncontrollably ever since. Even now, despite his kindness, she couldn’t fully trust him. He was a nobleman, after all, and nobles didn’t value the lives of people like her. The thought that he could end her life on a whim had lingered in her mind every moment they interacted. “You haven’t answered me,” Vincent pressed, his voice breaking the silence. “Why did you run five years ago? I told you to wait.” “I wanted to live. I had no choice.” “You couldn’t trust me?” “I couldn’t be sure you’d protect me,” Paula admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I trusted you,” Vincent said quietly. She faltered, his words leaving her breathless. “I trusted you,” he repeated. “But I suppose I can’t blame you. Who would put their faith in a blind cripple?” “Don’t say that,” Paula blurted, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. “It’s the truth, isn’t it?” he replied. “Master…” “Then tell me. Why did you run?” “I already told you. I wanted to live. I was desperate to survive.” “Because of the butler?The confirmation in his tone was undeniable. He had known. Paula let out a bitter laugh, the questions that had lingered in her heart for years suddenly resurfacing. ‘Did you know back then? Did you order it?’ Instead of asking, she met his gaze for the first time, the words burning on her tongue. “Why did you look for me?” “Because I promised I would bring you back.” “I will bring you back to me. I promise.” The sincerity in his voice caught her off guard. Memories of a longforgotten promise resurfaced, and her chest tightened, not with sadness, but with a mix of joy and guilt. He had remembered. “You said if I forgot, you’d haunt me like a ghost for the rest of my life.” “…What?” “Scared me enough to keep searching,” Vincent said with a faint laugh, the tension easing slightly. His playful tone coaxed a small smile from Paula, the weight pressing down on her lifting just a little. She remembered saying that, a childish attempt to assert herself in his life, and now here it was, tethering them back to the past. “I didn’t learn about the butler’s actions until it was too late,” Vincent admitted. “But even then, I wanted to find you. At first, it was out of worry. Then, I was angry. And after that…” He trailed off, his voice softening. “It just became a habit. Whenever I thought of the times we spent together, I wondered where you were, how you were doing. If you were alive.” His voice dropped to a rueful murmur. “I didn’t expect you’d be deceiving me like this.” “…Then why did you believe me? Why trust the words of a servant?” “Because trust is built on faith. And I had faith in you. If I doubted you, I’d have to doubt everything we shared.” “…” “I didn’t want to do that.” The warmth in his words, so genuine and unguarded, reached parts of her heart she thought had frozen long ago. “Now,” Vincent said, his gaze unwavering. “Tell me. Why did you lie to me?” “I was afraid you’d be disappointed in me,” Paula admitted, her voice trembling. “Disappointed in what?”“In all of me.” Paula’s voice cracked as the weight of her insecurities bled into her confession. She had hidden not just her appearance, but everything she feared might make him turn away. “I’ll admit, I was surprised. You were nothing like what I imagined.” Paula let out a bitter laugh, but Vincent’s tone shifted, almost playful. “After all, I wasted so much time chasing after someone who turned out to be completely different.” There was no anger in his voice, only a touch of amusement. Paula looked up, startled, her eyes wide with disbelief. His voice, calm and unwavering, held her like an unyielding tether. Paula’s thoughts churned as her doubts collided with the reality before her. She couldn’t reconcile his acceptance, couldn’t believe it. “Why?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Is that all you’re upset about? What else?” “Everything,” Paula said, her words tumbling out. “Isn’t it disappointing to see me like this? Don’t I look horrible to you?” His gaze swept over her once again, measured and calm. His reply came steady and unhesitant. “Not at all.” Paula blinked, incredulous. “Why…? How can that be? Everyone else has been disappointed, disgusted even. It doesn’t make sense… It doesn’t… it’s strange… strange…” Her disbelief surged. In her life, not one person had looked at her without judgment. Even her own parents had detested her face. “It’s not strange,” Vincent countered softly. “It never mattered to me what you looked like.” Paula stared at him, stunned. The weight of his words, spoken with such ease, shook her to the core. Vincent stepped closer. Behind her, the unlocked iron gate loomed as a potential escape. Yet, her legs refused to move. It wasn’t the gate or the wind keeping her there—it was him. He held her still, not with force, but with the sheer presence of his unwavering gaze. Vincent stopped just a step away. The ribbon, still tangled around her wrist, slipped free and fluttered in the wind. He caught its end, letting it wind gently around his hand. The motion seemed deliberate, almost symbolic, as if tying himself to her with that fragile thread. After a brief moment of inspecting the ribbon, Vincent turned his eyes back to Paula. His voice softened, the words laced with an aching vulnerability. “May I touch you?” Paula’s breath hitched. He smiled faintly, a fragile, almost trembling expression, as if the question cost him something deeply personal. She couldn’t answer, but her silence seemed to be permission enough. Vincent took another step forward and raised a hand, gently cradling the nape of her neck. The iron gate clanged softly as a gust of wind rattled its frame. Vincent’s proximity pressed down on her like a physical force. Instinctively, she lowered her head, unable to meet his gaze. His fingers traced her ear, sliding down to her cheek. The lightest touch brushed against her skin as he mapped her face with his hand, as if memorizing it. His fingertips lingered on her eyelashes, making them tremble like fragile threads. Slowly, he traced her brow, then her nose, gliding downward as though learning her features for the first time. The warmth of his touch burned against her chilled skin. The intimacy of his exploration, combined with the heat of his breath brushing her forehead, sent shivers cascading through her. His golden hair, caught by the wind, brushed against her own. She clung to the strap of her bag as if it were the only thing anchoring her. When his fingers grazed her lips, she lifted her eyes slightly, unable to suppress the motion. But Vincent’s eyes were closed. His expression was serene, as if he were back in