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.