My Vampire Beloved Husband
Chapter 36: Flinch

Chapter 36: Flinch

The doctor almost opened her mouth in shock but quickly regained her composure. She knew better than to let her emotions slip—after all, with just a snap of Zylan’s fingers, her job and certificate could become worthless. Choosing her words carefully, she responded with a calm voice.

"Um, about that, Mr. Zylan... Crying doesn’t necessarily mean she’s unwell. Sometimes it’s just a response to feeling hurt or... overwhelmed, but it doesn’t mean she’s sick."

Zylan’s gaze narrowed slightly, his intense eyes drilling into her as if he could see through her carefully calculated words. "She’s hurt? Then treat her."

The doctor hesitated, exchanging a glance with her colleague. Both of them looked back at Naomi, silently pleading with her to offer some kind of reassurance, anything that might defuse the tension in the air. But Naomi didn’t move, her face a mask of calm that barely concealed the storm raging inside her.

Naomi forced a shaky smile, trying to ease the tension that had gripped the room. Her voice came out steady, but the vulnerability hidden beneath it was unmistakable. "I’m fine, really. I’m not sick. You two can go, please."

The doctors exchanged another look, silently weighing the situation. Neither wanted to anger Zylan, yet neither could ignore the fact that Naomi seemed fine—physically, at least. After a long pause, Zylan gave them a curt nod. Without a word, the doctors bowed respectfully and left, the door clicking shut behind them.

As soon as they were alone, Zylan turned back to Naomi, his gaze unwavering. His presence in the room seemed to make the air thicker, more charged. He moved closer to her, his steps silent, his eyes fixed on her like an unspoken question.

"What’s going on?" he asked, his voice low, probing. The words hung in the air, heavy with something Naomi couldn’t place.

Naomi’s heart pounded in her chest. The calm composure she had tried to build felt like it was crumbling, piece by piece, with every passing second. She couldn’t let him see how vulnerable she was, how deeply the emotions she had kept buried were threatening to spill out. She needed to stay strong, needed to protect herself.

"Why did you call them?" she asked, her voice a mix of frustration and confusion, the tension in her shoulders betraying the calmness she tried to project. "I’m perfectly fine."

"No, you’re not," Zylan replied calmly, his eyes studying her like a puzzle he was trying to solve. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his gaze unrelenting.

Naomi didn’t know how to respond. The sharp sting of his words had her biting her lip to stop herself from snapping. "I don’t want to see your face right now. Just... leave me alone, okay?"

Zylan’s expression faltered for a split second—an almost imperceptible change. He hadn’t expected her to say that. But Naomi didn’t see it. She was too busy focusing on the internal battle waging inside her, too preoccupied with trying to hide the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to drown her.

Had she gone too far? She wasn’t sure anymore. Zylan’s presence felt suffocating, like a force she couldn’t escape. It wasn’t the physical closeness, but the way he seemed to see right through her that made her feel cornered. Zylan had once told her that even a child could act more rationally than she did. Was he right?

She had never understood why he insisted on being so close, so persistent, when she had told him time and time again that she didn’t want him near. His actions were contradictory, confusing. He wasn’t supposed to care—he had said as much, so why was he acting as if he were the most devoted husband in the world? If he didn’t care, why was he trying so hard to make her believe otherwise?

Zylan’s hand moved to his hair, the familiar gesture that signaled his frustration. Naomi flinched, recoiling instinctively, her hands coming up to cover her face, like she expected a blow.

Zylan froze, his eyes widening in shock. The sight of her flinching, of her shrinking away from him as if he were a threat, struck him harder than any words could.

Naomi didn’t see it, but for a split second, his perfectly composed facade cracked. Something shifted behind his eyes—an emotion so fleeting, so faint, that Naomi could never be sure of what it was. Anger? Suprise? He couldn’t believe it. She thought he would hurt her?

She hadn’t meant to push him away so harshly. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him near—she just couldn’t trust her own feelings anymore.

For Naomi, this kind of reaction had become automatic over the years. The years of physical and emotional abuse had molded her into someone who could not trust, someone who expected the worst. She had been conditioned to shrink back at the slightest provocation, to avoid angering anyone, especially someone like Zylan.

But Zylan wasn’t like her parents. Zylan wasn’t like anyone she had known before. She had to remind herself of that, even as she struggled to reconcile her own conflicting feelings.

Zylan’s jaw clenched as he looked at her, his expression hardening once again. He reached for her, trying to lift her chin, but the moment his hand came near, Naomi flinched again. She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. She was too afraid to see the disappointment in his eyes.

Zylan froze once again, the sting of her fear cutting deeper than any rejection. He didn’t understand it—why did she see him this way? Did she really think he was the kind of man who would hurt her?

But Naomi wasn’t thinking logically. She wasn’t in control of her actions. The years of pain, of silence, of being struck and silenced, had created a deep scar inside her—one that Zylan couldn’t see but that dictated her every movement. When she flinched, it wasn’t because she thought he would hurt her, but because that was all her body knew to do in moments like this.

Zylan stood abruptly, the muscles in his body tense as he moved toward the door. Naomi didn’t stop him. She couldn’t. The suffocating silence between them grew louder, more oppressive. Before she could even register what was happening, Zylan was gone, leaving the room colder than before.

Her heart sank. What had just happened? Why was she pushing him away when all he had done was try to help? Was this really her fault? She had no answer, no clarity. She just knew that something had broken between them, something she wasn’t sure could ever be repaired.

Naomi stood up, her legs shaky beneath her, and moved toward the door. She had to find him. She had to fix whatever was broken, but she didn’t know where to start. Opening the door, she was met with an empty hallway.

Her heart began to race in her chest, panic creeping in as she stepped out into the corridor. She called his name softly, her voice barely more than a whisper, but there was no answer. Her footsteps echoed in the silence as she moved deeper into the unfamiliar halls. Her mind was spinning, trying to piece together the mess of emotions she was feeling, but the more she walked, the more disoriented she became.

"Zylan?" she called out again, her voice trembling with uncertainty. The name felt foreign on her tongue, like it didn’t belong to her anymore.

The sound of her voice echoed back to her, unanswered. She paused, her chest tightening as unease settled over her. What was happening? Why couldn’t she find him?

The cold metal railing beneath her fingers sent a shiver up her spine as she ran her hand along it, trying to steady herself. But in the next instant, pain shot through her. She gasped as something sharp pricked her hand, and the sight of blood trickling from the wound made her stomach churn. She instinctively pressed her hand to the cut, but the pressure only seemed to worsen the sting.

The lights in the corridor flickered, dimming, and Naomi froze. Her eyes darted from left to right, but there was nothing—just darkness creeping in. The fear that had been simmering within her began to surge, her body trembling uncontrollably. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and just as her mind raced to make sense of the eerie stillness, something—or someone—shoved her roughly against the cold wall.

Naomi gasped, her breath caught in her throat. She opened her mouth to scream, but before the sound could escape, a cold, clammy hand pressed firmly over her lips. Panic flooded her veins. She struggled violently, her limbs flailing, but it was useless. The stranger’s grip was unyielding. Her mind spun, but she couldn’t understand what was happening, couldn’t grasp the situation fast enough. His eyes—his eyes were glowing a haunting, unnatural red.

What is going on? Panic gripped her chest. Her breaths came in short, ragged bursts, a sense of suffocating terror wrapping around her like a vice. "Zylan?" Her voice was barely a whisper, swallowed by the heavy darkness. The name echoed in her mind, her only tether to sanity in this spiraling nightmare. Was this her fault? Had she somehow caused this? Had her unwilling cooperation with Zylan’s world led her into this terrible moment?

The stranger’s presence grew heavier, suffocating. Naomi’s body tensed as the weight of fear took over, freezing her in place. She could feel something strange—something dark and unnatural—pressing into her, wrapping itself around her very being. The air felt thick, charged with a terrifying energy. Then, without warning, she saw it: his teeth—or were those fangs? They were growing, unmistakably longer, sharper. Was she seeing things? The figure grabbed her hands, his fingers cold and vice-like. Then, with a sickening slow-motion movement, he stuck out his tongue to lick the blood that had started to trickle from her hand. Naomi gasped, her breath hitching painfully in her chest.

His teeth grew longer, sharper—faster. Naomi’s heart raced as panic gripped her. This was real. This was happening.

Her mind spiraled, fragments of reality blurring into nothingness. Her thoughts scattered, slipping through her fingers like sand. Where am I? What is happening? The world around her felt like it was crumbling, falling apart. She couldn’t focus. Couldn’t think. Zylan, her mind screamed. Where is he?

The stranger’s hissing breath echoed in her ear, and Naomi’s throat burned as his hold on her tightened. His grip was cruel, unyielding, and the pressure against her intensified. Naomi’s body shook violently, her vision blurring, her muscles trembling with terror. She tried to scream again, but nothing came out. Her voice was swallowed by the void, as though the world itself had closed around her.

Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her sight. She couldn’t tear herself away from the stranger’s grasp. His cold, cruel touch was a constant reminder that she was powerless, trapped in this nightmarish reality. Just as he was about to lick her blood, Naomi’s body went cold with dread, her heartbeat drowning out everything else.

And then, as if summoned by her fear itself, a loud crash shattered the silence.