My Vampire Beloved Husband
Chapter 32: Already Perfect

Chapter 32: Already Perfect

At that moment, Naomi didn’t know what to do. Her heart hammered in her chest as she turned toward the door, hoping to leave before things got even more uncomfortable. "Please don’t," she spoke hurriedly, almost pleading with herself as much as with him. Just as his hand brushed against the doorknob, it finally stopped turning, and she sighed in relief, grateful to avoid any confrontation. That was close, she thought, taking a shaky breath. She needed to get ready before he thought something had happened to her.

As she stepped further into the room, her eyes landed on a shelf lined with an assortment of skincare and hair products. She felt a flicker of unease but pushed it aside, telling herself there was no point in dwelling on such details. She had bigger things to worry about right now. Plugging in the hairdryer, she began drying and straightening her wavy, golden-blonde hair, the gentle warmth soothing her nerves as she worked. When her hair was finally sleek and smooth, she set the dryer aside and glanced at her reflection.

Her hand went to the pile of clothes she’d grabbed hastily earlier, almost as a shield from the intensity of his gaze. Tearing open the clear package, she found a matching crop top and a long skirt. The skirt was opaque from the waist to the knees, but from there down, it became sheer, revealing her legs with every movement. Naomi’s jaw nearly dropped. It wasn’t the kind of outfit she would normally wear—too bold, too revealing for her taste. But the idea of asking for something else made her hesitate. What if he returned with something even more daring? No, it was better to make do with what she had.

Taking a deep breath, she changed quickly, feeling both self-conscious and oddly emboldened. As she stepped out of the bathroom, her eyes found Zylan sitting with his legs crossed, his gaze distant as if lost in thought. But as soon as he sensed her presence, he looked up, his eyes scanning her with an intensity that made her skin prickle. For a brief moment, his eyes widened, betraying a flicker of surprise before his face settled back into its usual unreadable expression. He hadn’t expected her to wear the outfit, she realized. But he didn’t say a word, merely rising from his seat and moving past her, his footsteps soft as he disappeared into the bathroom.

Relieved, Naomi took the chance to explore a little. She walked to the open, glass-walled area and stood there, gazing at the view stretched out before her. Her mouth opened and closed in awe as she took in the beauty of the scenery, the endless expanse of the ocean merging with the sky in a serene, almost surreal way. She had been so wrapped up in her own struggles, in the walls she’d built around herself, that she had forgotten the world could look like this. A faint smile tugged at her lips as a thought crossed her mind—perhaps she didn’t always have to carry the weight of her past. Perhaps she could find ways to make life feel a little less heavy, a little more beautiful.

Lost in the moment, she began to sway, letting herself feel free in a way she hadn’t allowed herself in a long time. The feeling surprised her; it was as if she had shed an invisible burden. The comfort she felt in this unfamiliar place, with him so near, scared her a little. Could it be possible to feel this at ease with Zylan? Apparently, it was.

Quietly, she decided to continue exploring. Her curiosity led her to the library, where she ran her fingers along the spines of the books, tracing the edges as if they were strings on an instrument only she could hear. When she reached the end of the row, she hesitated, unwilling to choose one. Her last experience with a book had ended poorly, and she worried that any new choice might be worse.

From there, she wandered into the gym area. A set of weights caught her eye, and on a whim, she reached for one, only to be met with resistance. "So heavy," she muttered, more to herself than anyone. She strained to lift it, her hands turning pink from the effort, but it wouldn’t budge. Wait, why am I even doing this? The thought was both amusing and frustrating, yet she felt a strange determination rise within her. Gritting her teeth, she tried again, pulling with everything she had.

"Errrgh," she groaned, a sound of exertion escaping her as her fingers tightened around the handle. The weight remained immovable, defying her attempts. Blowing on her sore hands, she readied herself to try once more, refusing to give up so easily.

Then, she felt it—a cool, firm hand on her bare waist. She gasped, realizing her crop top had ridden up during her struggle, leaving her skin exposed. Her heart leapt, and for a moment, she froze, her mind racing as she registered the unmistakable presence behind her.

Before she could react, Zylan lifted her effortlessly, as if she weighed nothing, and set her down on the other side of the room. "That’s enough," he said, his voice even but with a faint edge of disapproval. "The gym isn’t for everyone."

Naomi’s eyes widened slightly. Did he just...insult her? It took a moment for his words to sink in, and when they did, a spark of indignation flared within her. She wasn’t used to feeling so dismissed, especially not by him. How could he say something like that? Her fingers twitched with the urge to retaliate, but she bit her tongue, holding her silence as a wave of frustration simmered beneath the surface. How could he brush her off so casually?

She hadn’t noticed his arrival, hadn’t expected him to be there, and now he’d witnessed her struggle in such an intimate setting. Moments later, she heard the soft pinging of the door—once, then twice. Her gaze shifted as two uniformed chefs wheeled in a golden cart adorned with an array of dishes, each one meticulously arranged. Two other attendants followed, cleaning the already pristine dining area, their movements efficient and silent. The setup was elegant, almost too perfect, with only two chairs at the table, hinting at a romantic atmosphere.

The attendants bowed respectfully and left as swiftly as they had come. As the door closed behind them, silence settled over the room, thick and heavy. Zylan looked at Naomi, his expression unreadable, as if he were about to say something. She avoided his gaze, choosing instead to walk to the dining table and sit down, her hands folded in her lap. Closing her eyes, she said a silent prayer, a habit she clung to when she needed to ground herself.

She picked up her fork and started eating, her movements deliberate, trying to ignore the feeling of his gaze on her. After a few moments, his voice broke the silence. "How’s the food?"

Without looking up, she replied, her tone cooler than she intended. "Good." She focused on her plate, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her emotions.

Zylan’s gaze lingered on her, and though he tried to appear indifferent, she could sense his curiosity. He seemed to realize something was off, yet he didn’t press her. She couldn’t tell if it was indifference or restraint, and that uncertainty only fueled her frustration.

He glanced down and noticed that Naomi kept glancing at a dish near him, though she hadn’t taken any. It was just slightly out of her reach. As he reached out to pass it to her, she set her cutlery down with a finality that made his hand pause mid-air. She had finished eating, though her plate was far from empty. Rising from her seat, she walked toward the library without a word, each step measured as she put distance between them.

The ache in her chest grew sharper, an ache she couldn’t quite understand. How could a few words from him make her feel this way? She was used to her parents’ constant comparisons, their dismissive remarks, so why did his words cut so deeply? Shaking her head, she searched the shelves for a distraction, her fingers grazing the books as if one might offer her the escape she so desperately needed.

Footsteps echoed behind her, slow and deliberate. She didn’t need to turn to know who it was. Zylan stopped just a step away, his presence like a shadow she couldn’t shake, lingering just close enough to unsettle her.

"Naomi, what’s wrong?" he asked, his voice calm, almost detached, lacking the warmth she longed for. She wished he would show even a hint of genuine concern, but his face remained a mask, a puzzle she couldn’t piece together.

Taking a steadying breath, she replied, "Nothing’s wrong. I just want to be alone."

Zylan’s lips curved into a faint, unreadable smile. "You can’t. We’re on our honeymoon. We’re supposed to be together."

She sighed, glancing at the book in her hand as a way to avoid his gaze. "Do you want to read a book too?" she asked, her voice resigned.

"Yes," he replied, his gaze never wavering. "Yes, I want to."

With a sigh, she handed him the book she’d been holding, the last bit of control she felt slipping from her grasp. "Fine. It’s all yours."

But before she could even take a step back, Zylan moved faster than she could react, his hand gently grasping hers and pulling her backward, toward him. A soft gasp escaped her lips as her back pressed against his chest, the warmth of his body seeping through her thin shirt. Her heart pounded, each beat echoing through her as she felt his breath near her ear.

His left hand rested on her slender neck, tilting her head upward toward him. The position felt intimate—not awkward, but it stirred an unfamiliar sensation within her. Before she fully understood what was happening, he leaned his head closer and spoke slowly, his voice low and calm.

"My Eaglet, are you mad at me?"

Just as Naomi opened her mouth to speak, Zylan interrupted, his tone steady. "If you’re upset about what I said earlier, then I meant every word."

Her eyes widened, a flicker of hurt crossing her face. Her lips trembled, and she fought back the sudden urge to cry. Was she being too sensitive? But the ache in her chest lingered, deeper than she expected. Why did his words matter so much to her?

Then, in a low yet velvet tone, he added, "The gym isn’t for you... because you’re already perfect."