My Vampire Beloved Husband
Chapter 35: Fragile

Chapter 35: Fragile

The moment those words left Zylan’s lips, the fragile hope Naomi had clung to shattered, dissolving into nothing—no, not just shattered—crumbling into powder. Why had she dared to hope for something better between them? Hadn’t she been the one who had planned, from the start, to escape this nightmare? So why did it hurt so much now, as though someone were slowly driving a knife into her chest, twisting it deeper with every beat of her heart?

She sat there, silent, refusing to play his game any longer. Why had she even started? Yes, it was just a game. She knew that. And yet, when he spoke those words, a bitter realization washed over her. Had she really been hoping he would lie? That he’d say something—anything—that might soothe her wounded pride, offer some reassurance, even if it was false? But no. He hadn’t. It was just a game, and he’d been honest. Brutally honest.

Yet somewhere deep inside, a small, foolish part of her had wished for something different. That he might have said "yes" instead of "no," even if just to protect her feelings. This was how he played his part in their twisted little game. But to her, it no longer felt like a game. It felt... too real. Far too real.

Naomi lowered her gaze, her fingers trembling as she let the card slip from her grasp.

"I’m tired." She had said it so suddenly. Why had she let those words slip? Oh, goodness, why? She could feel the raw pain radiating through her, as if her heart were physically tearing apart. And now it was obvious—obvious that his words had hurt her. She could barely keep the tears at bay, feeling them well up, heavy and hot, right behind her eyes. Yes, she was truly, unmistakably pained.

Zylan turned, his piercing gaze fixed on her face, studying her intently, as though trying to pry into her thoughts. But his expression remained unreadable, his face a mask of indifference, giving her no hint of what might be lurking beneath. Did he regret saying those words, even a little? His eyes held no such indication.

A broken smile tugged at Naomi’s lips, a hollow expression that only deepened the confusion roiling within her. Why was she feeling this way? Was this what rejection felt like? How silly, how utterly ridiculous. What had she even expected? She had always lived in a house devoid of love; affection was a foreign concept, something she had only ever dreamed of. Yet, here she was, sitting across from her unloved husband, and somehow... somehow, his words cut deeper than all the wounds her parents had inflicted on her.

And that was something she needed to drill into her own stubborn heart: she would never be loved. Not by anyone. All of this—this whole twisted situation, this heartache—was her own fault. She had started this foolish game, driven by some misguided curiosity, some absurd notion that perhaps... just perhaps, things could be different. But no. Every time she dared to dream, to hope, to reach beyond the bars of her cage, she was met with pain. Why did everything she started end in agony? Why did everything she tried to avoid still manage to find her, to haunt her?

But why was she even overthinking this? The man sitting across from her didn’t care. He wouldn’t even blink if she disappeared tomorrow. And that stung—a thousand times more than she had ever expected.

Without another word, Naomi pushed herself to her feet. She kept her voice steady, her tone unyielding, as she forced herself to stand tall, even as her heart was breaking. "I would like to get some sleep," she said, each word carefully measured.

She could barely hold back the flood of tears, the pain in her eyes so intense it felt as if it were burning her from the inside out. In that instant, she realized that no other hurt—not even the pain her parents had caused—had ever wounded her like this. Why did a single word from him hurt so much?

Her unloved husband, Zylan, was truly dangerous. The realization was like a heavy stone sinking in her chest. But she forced herself to stand, her posture rigid, her heart cold as stone. Just as she turned to leave, his hand shot out, catching her by the arm, holding her in place.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his tone measured, but his grip firm, as if he could sense the storm brewing within her.

Naomi closed her eyes, taking a long, steadying breath. She had to remind herself—she didn’t deserve this heartache, this torment. She would find someone better, someone who could give her the love she deserved. If that was even possible.

Of course, he was the most perfect man she had ever seen—tall, strong, and undeniably striking. But who knew? Maybe there were other perfect men out there. Still, she doubted she would ever find one. But right now, none of that mattered. All she wanted was someone who would cherish her, someone who would hold her without hurting her. And as that thought settled, Naomi realized, with a painful clarity, that the only person who had truly been there for her, through thick and thin, was Rose.

"I said I needed to rest," she repeated, pulling her arm free from his grasp with more strength than she thought she had. She didn’t want to make any more mistakes, didn’t want to let her emotions push her into doing something she would later regret. Maybe she should just lie down, close her eyes, sleep, and let her mind settle. This was too much, far more than she had prepared herself to handle. She had thought she was stronger than this, but now—now, she wasn’t so sure.

Zylan looked at her, visibly caught off guard, his pupils dilating slightly in surprise. The way she pulled away from him, the way her shoulders trembled... was she hurt? Had something he said caused this reaction? She was the one who had asked for the truth, wasn’t she?

Naomi let out a bitter smile, one that barely reached her eyes. How ironic. She had been the one demanding honesty, yet now, when faced with it, she could barely stand to hear it. It was laughable, really, how childish she was acting. But the truth was, this wound was deeper than she could admit, even to herself.

She turned away from him, crossing the room with slow, unsteady steps until she reached the bed. She lay down, finally allowing herself a moment to breathe, to let the tears spill without restraint. It was as though all the pain she had buried, all the hurt she had suppressed, came rushing to the surface, pouring out of her in silent, aching sobs. It was as if, right now, she was crying for everyone she had lost, for every ounce of love she had never received, for her parents and... for him.

Was she really cursed? Maybe her parents had just wanted what was best for her, or perhaps they had been right to send her away to the reverend school. Would that life have been better, safer, less painful? Her cries were soft, muffled as she pressed her face into the pillow, trying to keep the sound from reaching him. Even if he did hear, would he care? Probably not. Or maybe she was the problem. Perhaps she had been the one stirring up this storm, the one to blame for every mess, every heartache since they arrived here.

Just as she took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady herself, she felt the bed shift slightly beneath her. She froze, realizing that Zylan had sat down beside her. She felt his arm move to wrap around her, as if trying to offer comfort. But she recoiled instantly, pulling away as if he were a hot iron, something that would scar her if she dared to touch it.

Zylan hesitated, pulling his arm back slowly, his brow furrowing in confusion. He didn’t understand. She was trembling, her whole body shaking as though she were feverish, or terrified. Was she sick? Or was this... something else? Without a second thought, he reached over to the wall, pressing a button that would call for the doctor. He didn’t know what else to do. Emotions were a mystery to him, but he knew enough to recognize that when humans trembled like this, it was either from fear or illness. He gently reached out again, this time placing his hand over hers, hoping to offer some form of comfort.

But Naomi slapped his hand away, her voice sharp and filled with an anger that masked her deeper pain. "Don’t... don’t you dare touch me," she spat, finally turning to face him, her eyes red-rimmed, her cheeks damp with tears.

Zylan stiffened, caught off guard both by her words and by the sight of her tears. He wasn’t used to this, wasn’t sure how to respond. Emotions were foreign to him, and the vulnerability in her gaze unsettled him in ways he didn’t understand.

The soft chime of the doorbell broke the tense silence between them. Zylan rose, moving to open the door, and Naomi’s eyes widened in surprise as two doctors entered the room, looking serious and attentive. She blinked, confused, trying to piece together what was happening. Was something wrong? Was Zylan unwell? But that didn’t make sense.

One of the doctors, a woman with a calm, professional demeanor, approached her, glancing first at Naomi, then respectfully turning to Zylan. "Mr. Zylan, is there a specific concern? Perhaps if you could tell us..."

Zylan’s gaze lingered on Naomi’s tear-streaked face, noting the slight tremble in her frame. "She’s shaking... and now, she’s crying," he said, his tone serious. Yet, something subtle flickered in his eyes—was it concern?

Naomi was stunned. Her husband had actually called a doctor—simply because she was crying. She couldn’t believe he would go this far over a few tears. Did he truly think she was so fragile?