My Vampire Beloved Husband
Chapter 92: Wouldn’t Change Anything

Chapter 92: Wouldn’t Change Anything

Zylan stilled, his towering presence commanding the room. That alone spoke volumes, his very stance a barrier against vulnerability. Naomi rose to meet his gaze, her golden eyes tinged with bitterness. She offered a faint, tight-lipped smile, one that held more pain than warmth. What had she been thinking? That Zylan would confide in her? That he would trust her enough to share the secrets buried deep within him?

Her smile widened, but not out of joy. It was bitter, self-mocking, as though laughing at her own naivety. How foolish she’d been to think she was special enough for him to open up. She turned on her heel, the resolve to leave taking over before the ache in her chest could consume her.

Before she could take another step, a hand closed gently yet firmly around hers.

"Wait," he said.

The word was soft, hesitant, but it carried the weight of a plea. Naomi froze at the unexpected touch, her heart skipping a beat despite her resolve. She glanced down at his hand gripping hers, and then at his face. For a fleeting moment, the mask Zylan wore so well cracked, revealing a flicker of something she wasn’t sure she could name—was it fear?

Her breath hitched, and she quickly masked her surprise. She had no right to expect more from him. None at all.

"It’s fine, Zylan," she said, her voice steady but tinged with a quiet sadness. "You have your secrets. I have mine. We all do."

Her words sounded like acceptance, but deep down, she knew they weren’t. They were a lie, one she had to tell herself to keep the fragile balance between them from shattering completely.

If only he knew how much it hurt her to say those words. If only he knew how desperately she wanted him to speak, to trust her, to let her in. She didn’t care about the secrets themselves—she cared about him, about being someone he could turn to in his darkest moments.

Naomi felt a lump form in her throat but swallowed it down, unwilling to let her emotions betray her. She made a move to pull her hand away, but his grip tightened ever so slightly.

"Naomi," he murmured, his voice low and strained.

She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his intense gaze. For a moment, she thought he might say something, something real, but then the moment passed. His composure returned, and the Zylan she had come to know—the one who kept everything locked away—was back.

"It’s okay," she said again, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "If you’re not ready to tell me, then it’s okay."

She lied.

Naomi turned to leave, her steps deliberate. She needed to put distance between them before her emotions betrayed her further.

But then his voice stopped her.

"She... she... was my ex-wife."

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap.

Naomi froze mid-step, her hand still resting on the doorknob. She felt as though the floor had been ripped out from under her, leaving her suspended in a void of disbelief. Slowly, she turned to face him, her eyes wide and unblinking.

Ex-wife?

The thought spiraled through her mind, each repetition more painful than the last. Zylan had been married before. She wasn’t his first. She was... second.

Her lips twitched into another bitter smile, but this time it was born of confusion and hurt rather than mockery. She studied his face, searching for answers in the hard lines of his jaw and the tension around his eyes.

He wasn’t looking at her. Instead, his gaze was fixed somewhere on the floor, as though the weight of the admission was too much for him to meet her eyes.

"She’s dead," he added, his voice hoarse and filled with something she couldn’t quite place—was it pain?

Naomi’s breath caught, her chest tightening as the full meaning of his words sank in. Not only was Noelle his ex-wife, but she was gone, lost forever.

The room seemed to shrink, the walls pressing in on her as the weight of his confession threatened to crush her. Her fingers trembled as she clutched the edge of the door for support.

Zylan ran a hand through his hair, a rare show of frustration from the man who always seemed so in control. His composure was cracking, bit by bit, revealing the raw, unfiltered emotions beneath.

And then, to her astonishment, he sank to the floor.

Naomi stared, her mind struggling to process what she was seeing. The man who had always been a pillar of strength and mystery now sat before her, his shoulders slumped, his head bowed. He looked...vulnerable.

He sighed deeply, his fingers threading through his hair as though trying to hold himself together.

"You’re not supposed to know everything," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "You wouldn’t want to. You can’t handle it."

The words stung, but Naomi knew they weren’t meant to hurt her. They were a reflection of his own fears, his own belief that his truths were too dark, too heavy for anyone else to bear.

She took a tentative step toward him, her heart aching at the sight of his vulnerability. For a moment, she hesitated, unsure if he would push her away. But then she knelt beside him and did the one thing he probably never expected.

She wrapped her arms around him.

Zylan stiffened at the contact, his body going rigid as though her touch burned him. But Naomi didn’t let go. She held him tightly, her warmth a silent reassurance that she wasn’t going anywhere.

"It’s okay, Zylan," she whispered, her voice soft yet resolute. "It’s okay if you’re not ready to tell me everything. I just... I don’t want to be in the dark anymore. I don’t care what your secrets are, or who you are, or where you come from. I just want you to trust me."

Her voice wavered slightly, but her determination didn’t falter.

"I don’t care," she repeated, her words a vow. "Even if you were the devil himself, it wouldn’t change how I feel."

Zylan’s breath hitched, and she felt his body tremble beneath her touch. Slowly, he lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers. There was something in his gaze she had never seen before—something raw and unguarded.

"Naomi," he began, his voice thick with emotion, but she shook her head, silencing him.

"Tell me, Zylan," she said, her tone firmer now. "I want to know you. All of you. I don’t care what it is. I just... I need to know."

For a moment, he simply stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then his lips parted, as though he was about to speak, but no words came.

Naomi held her breath, waiting, hoping.

"I don’t care," she said again, her voice a whisper. "Even if you came from hell, it wouldn’t change anything."

And then Zylan spoke, his voice low and heavy with something Naomi couldn’t quite place.

"Eaglet... You don’t know what you’re saying."

Naomi smiled bitterly, the expression fleeting as her heart raced. She could feel his gaze on her, intense and searching, but she didn’t flinch. His words stung, but they didn’t change what she knew deep down.

Before he could say anything else, Naomi spoke, her tone unexpectedly serious.

"I do," she replied, her voice steady but carrying a weight that seemed to hang in the air. "I very much do."

The look on her face was unwavering, and Zylan’s eyes flickered with uncertainty for just a moment. Naomi could feel it—his hesitation, his doubt. But then, as if her words had struck something deep within him, he pulled back slightly, as if to reconsider his next words.

"I don’t want to lose you," he said slowly, his voice soft, almost pleading.

Naomi’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart stopped, then raced again in a wild, frantic beat. Had she just heard him correctly? Did Zylan, the man who guarded his emotions like a fortress, just say those words to her?

For a moment, Naomi couldn’t think straight. The words echoed in her mind, but they didn’t seem real. How could they be? Zylan didn’t... he didn’t express himself like this. It was all so sudden, so....unexpected.

And then, as if he realized the weight of his own confession, Zylan slowly pulled back, though his hands remained at her sides, lingering just a moment longer than necessary. His touch was warm, but it sent a shiver through her that had nothing to do with the warmth.

He held her face gently, as though afraid to hurt her, his fingers trembling slightly as they brushed her skin. Naomi could feel her pulse quicken under his touch. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of what he was thinking.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but the next thing Naomi saw made her body tremble in shock.

Zylan’s teeth... No, his fangs.

Naomi’s eyes widened, the shock seizing her heart in an instant. His fangs—sharp and unmistakable—were growing, elongating from his mouth in a slow, almost painful movement. Her body shook involuntarily, her instincts screaming for her to pull away, to run. But she couldn’t move.

Zylan, as if sensing her distress, quickly backed away, his eyes wide with panic. He caught his breath, his body tense, as if he hadn’t intended for her to see. But Naomi had already seen—there was no going back now.

He muttered something under his breath, so quietly that Naomi could barely make it out. Was it a prayer? Was it some sort of silent plea for forgiveness, or perhaps for control?

And then before she knew it.

He was Gone.