At this point, Natasha was tightly clenching her hands into fists, causing her knuckles to turn way more pale than they already were.
Ryan, who was pacing back and forth, stopped and turned to look at her.
"Natasha, how sure are you that she did it?" he questioned.
Natasha drew her head back, holding a look of disbelief. "What do you mean by that?"
Ryan took a deep breath. Anyone who looked at him could tell that he was somewhat fed up with Natasha's nagging.
"What I mean is, I don't want you to accuse someone without evidence. I understand that you do not like her, and neither do I, but I don't believe that she did it. She is not capable of it," he specified.
"What do you mean, "She is not capable of it?" Natasha asked. Irritation was written all over her face. "My love, don't tell me that you are starting to have an eye for—"
