My Vampire Beloved Husband
Chapter 39: His Walls

Chapter 39: His Walls

Naomi gulped down the water, desperate to soothe her parched, aching throat. The warm liquid brought a momentary relief to her body, which had been weak from the aftereffects of whatever had transpired. The doctor’s calm, measured voice broke through her haze of exhaustion, drawing her attention.

"Your husband will be here in a few minutes," she said softly, her words lingering in the air with a weight Naomi couldn’t quite place. Her tone hinted at something—perhaps a reason behind Zylan’s delayed arrival, though she couldn’t be sure. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t ready to face him, not yet. She needed time, space to compose herself.

There had been blood—so much blood. Zylan had been covered in it when she’d collapsed, his eyes wild, his focus locked on something far beyond her. She had never seen him in such a state before. And now, she couldn’t bear the thought of facing him looking so... vulnerable, so out of control. He was always so composed, so aloof, and seeing him in that state would only make her feel like a burden.

She looked down at her trembling hands, her fingers still aching from the IV drip that had been attached to them earlier. The nurse, moving quietly beside her, began to remove the drip with a gentle touch, as if she knew Naomi needed some space to process everything.

"You’re much better now," the nurse said, offering a reassuring smile. "But please, take it easy."

Naomi nodded, her body still sluggish with fatigue, but her mind restless with questions. She felt like she should be doing something—anything—to distract herself from the inevitable confrontation with Zylan. She couldn’t face him like this, feeling so helpless.

"I should freshen up before he arrives," she muttered to herself, her voice barely above a whisper. She needed to look composed, not like someone who had just collapsed into a heap of weakness. She wanted to appear strong, capable. She didn’t want him to see her as anything less than that.

The nurse paused, her eyes studying Naomi with a gentle but discerning gaze. "Alright," she said, after a moment’s hesitation. "But don’t take too long. Your body still needs food."

Naomi barely heard her. She was already focused on rising to her feet, despite her body’s protest. Every movement felt like an effort, but she refused to let herself collapse back into the bed. She wasn’t that woman anymore, not the one who needed to be coddled and treated like fragile glass. Not with everything that had happened.

The nurse handed her a small package of fresh clothes, and Naomi accepted it with a thankful nod. She moved toward the bathroom, her heart beating faster with every step. The anticipation of Zylan’s arrival made her pulse quicken, and she couldn’t decide if it was excitement or fear that twisted in her stomach.

---

Zylan walked slowly down the hallway, each step measured, deliberate. His tall frame moved with the ease of someone who had learned to control every part of his body, making his movements appear almost predatory. He didn’t make a sound as he approached the door to the room where he and Naomi had been staying. He hadn’t expected to come back here so soon, but he had no choice. The fight, the aftermath... everything that had happened before, it all led him back to this moment.

He opened the door slowly, careful not to make any noise. His presence in the room was almost ghostlike as he stepped inside. Naomi was sitting at the small table, staring down at the untouched meal in front of her. Her spoon was poised in her hand, but she wasn’t eating. Her gaze was far off, lost in some distant thought.

Zylan paused in the doorway, watching her for a moment, his face unreadable. He had seen her in pain, seen her collapse from the sheer weight of everything she was experiencing. But he hadn’t seen her like this—so distant, so lost. She had always been strong, even when she faltered, even when she was scared. Yet now... he wasn’t sure what to make of her.

He moved forward, his footsteps barely making a sound on the floor. His eyes were fixed on her, but she didn’t seem to notice. She was still lost in her own world, consumed by whatever thoughts were running through her mind.

It was only when Naomi finally looked up from her plate that she saw him standing there. She froze, her spoon clattering softly against the bowl as she stared at him. The shock in her eyes was immediate, and Zylan could see the instant she was reminded of everything that had happened—the fight, the blood, the chaos. He could see the way her expression shifted, a mixture of fear, guilt, and confusion.

She looked away quickly, as if trying to shake off the memories that had surfaced. Zylan remained still, giving her the space she needed. He could feel her discomfort, her tension, but he didn’t know how to ease it. She was still processing everything. She had every right to be unsettled by what she’d seen. The violence, the blood, his ferocity—none of it was something he wanted her to witness.

Naomi’s body trembled slightly, the fear gripping her harder than he had anticipated. His breath caught in his chest as he watched her, trying to read her thoughts. He couldn’t reach her yet, couldn’t get through to her the way he wanted to. He didn’t know how to be the person she needed, not after everything. The guilt weighed on him, but he couldn’t show it. Not now.

He stepped forward then, breaking the silence with a low command. "Eat," he said, his voice calm but firm. "At least... eat."

He didn’t expect her to listen right away, didn’t expect her to do anything. He just wanted her to focus on something other than her thoughts, to take care of herself. She had to take care of herself first before they could move forward.

Naomi hesitated for a moment, her hand trembling as she picked up her spoon. Zylan stayed silent, standing nearby, watching her, his presence steady but distant. He couldn’t push her, couldn’t make her do anything she wasn’t ready for. All he could do was wait.

She ate slowly, almost mechanically, her mind clearly elsewhere. Zylan’s gaze never wavered from her, but he didn’t speak again. There was nothing more to say. She was lost in her thoughts, and he was giving her the space to process, to handle everything on her own. When she finished, she reached for her glass of water, briefly meeting his eyes before quickly looking away.

He waited, not sure if he should speak again. Just when he thought she might retreat back into herself, Naomi looked up, a slight hint of curiosity in her eyes. Without a word, she patted the bed beside her, inviting him to come closer.

Zylan blinked in surprise. He had never expected this. She had always been distant with him, keeping herself closed off, especially after everything that had happened. Yet here she was, inviting him closer without hesitation. It was a gesture that confused him, made him question what was happening between them. Was this real? Or was she still processing?

There was something different about her—something he couldn’t place. Maybe it was the softness in her voice when she spoke, or the way she looked at him as though she was seeing him for the first time.

Curiosity flickered in his eyes as he moved toward the bed. He sat down slowly beside her, careful not to crowd her, maintaining a deliberate distance. His posture remained stiff, his gaze fixed forward, though he couldn’t stop wondering what had changed between them. What was it that had allowed her to lower the walls she had so carefully constructed? Why now?

Naomi turned to him, her curiosity evident in the way she studied his face. Her voice was soft, almost shy, when she spoke. "What did you eat yesterday after I, umm, passed out?"

The question caught him off guard. Zylan blinked, unsure of how to respond. He hadn’t eaten since the fight, hadn’t cared about food until now. His mind had been too focused on the aftermath, too focused on ensuring she was safe and also he was busy with his special torture. The thought of eating had slipped away entirely.

For a moment, he said nothing. The silence stretched between them, and Naomi, sensing his hesitation, didn’t press further. Instead, she moved the table closer to him, nudging it toward his side.

"Here," she murmured, offering her meal to him.

Zylan’s gaze softened, caught off guard by her unexpected kindness. She had always been kind, but there was something more here, something that made his chest tighten in a way he didn’t fully understand.

Naomi looked at him with warmth in her eyes, her gaze steady as she spoke again. "Eat." Her tone wasn’t demanding, but it was firm—no room for refusal. She wasn’t asking for permission to help him; she was simply offering.

Zylan opened his mouth to protest, but before he could form the words, Naomi’s voice cut through again, teasing yet genuine.

"Or do you simply want me to feed you?"

He froze, completely speechless. The simplicity of her offer, the vulnerability it suggested, caught him off guard. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to respond to her in this moment. She had rendered him speechless, completely thrown him off balance.

He couldn’t explain why, but the tension in the room seemed to shift. It wasn’t just physical. It was emotional. And for the first time since everything had started, Zylan found himself wondering if Naomi might be the one to break through his own walls.