Just as she closed the door behind her, Naomi realized that so strands of her golden hair were slightly disheveled—not too ssy, just enough to bother her after she had jumped earlier to snatch that embarrassing fra from Zylan. She raised her hand to smooth it down, but before she could finish, Zylan’s hands gently moved to her head.
Her heart raced as he carefully and tenderly adjusted her hair. She couldn’t decide whether to smile or laugh at how ticulous he was being, but she loved it. Zylan’s attentiveness far exceeded her expectations, and the warmth in her chest grew with the thought of how much he cared for her. It was a strange sensation, this tender care from soone who wasn’t obligated to be kind, yet chose to be so.
As he finished smoothing down the last strand, Zylan’s fingers brushed against her scalp with a delicate touch, and Naomi felt her breath catch. It was as if every movent, every glance, had been carefully calculated to make her feel special.
It was ti to head downstairs for lunch. Naomi reached for Zylan’s hand, smiling up at him before giving a small, determined nod. It wasn’t ant for him, but for herself—a silent reassurance of her resolve.
She was ready to face whatever lay ahead. Zylan seed to understand, and without a word, he intertwined his fingers with hers, his grip firm but not demanding, and led her toward the staircase.
As they descended, Zylan spoke softly. "If you’re not comfortable, we can go back after lunch. We don’t have to attend the evening event."
Naomi shook her head, smiling at his concern. She felt a surge of gratitude for his attentiveness. Internally, she vowed to herself, I’m not the sa Naomi who could be easily oppressed. I’ve changed. She was now soone with strength, confidence, and determination—a woman ready to stand tall.
With a faint but confident smile, she walked beside him into the dining room. The sight of her parents seated at the table, her sister by their side, made her pause for a mont. She hadn’t expected this. For a second, everything around her seed to still, even the distant hum of the clock on the wall—all faded as Naomi’s eyes locked on the faces of the people who had always been a part of her life, yet seed so distant now.
Naomi took a deep breath and stepped into the dining room with Zylan. She hesitated for a mont before sitting down, glancing around the room. To her surprise, it seed her family had been waiting for their arrival before beginning the al—a rare occurrence.
Normally, when she was called to join them for lunch, dinner, or breakfast, she would find them already eating, indifferent to her timing. Today, however, it felt different. There was a palpable shift in the air, an unusual stillness that Naomi couldn’t quite place.
Her family’s uncharacteristic patience puzzled her. The atmosphere felt almost unsettling. Naomi’s father, as stoic as ever, sat at the head of the table, his sharp gaze softening only toward Zylan as he entered. Her mother, ever composed but cold, wore a slight frown that quickly shifted into a forced smile, though she made no attempt to acknowledge Naomi directly. Sabrina, her younger sister, sat in her usual spot, but her posture was unnervingly straighter than usual, as though she were trying to appear more dignified than Naomi had ever seen her.
Zylan’s composed deanor seed to command attention, and before Naomi could process the shift in the room, her father stood, bowing his head respectfully. "Welco to our humble ho, Mr. Zylan," he said with an air of reverence. There was sothing different about the way he spoke, as if this wasn’t a re formality. His words felt heavy, laden with sothing Naomi couldn’t quite define.
He gestured to his wife, who rose as well, followed by Sabrina. Both won bowed their heads slightly in unison. Her mother echoed the greeting with practiced politeness. "Welco to our humble ho, Mr. Zylan."
Naomi turned to Sabrina, whose overly sweet smile seed almost forced. "Welco back ho, dear sis," Sabrina said, her voice dripping with insincerity. The words felt foreign, awkward, and Naomi could sense the tension behind them. Sabrina’s carefully crafted expression betrayed a faint flicker of irritation, though she quickly masked it. Naomi could almost feel the pressure in the room tightening, an invisible weight that made every interaction feel more strained than it should.
Naomi simply nodded, maintaining her composure. "Thank you," she replied softly, avoiding her mother’s gaze. Her mother didn’t look at her either, her focus seemingly fixed elsewhere. Yet the re presence of Zylan appeared to enforce a facade of civility among her family.
Naomi couldn’t help but wonder if they were acting this way because of him—because of the weight his presence carried.
To Naomi’s astonishnt, her father addressed her directly. "Dear daughter, I’m happy you’re here."
For a mont, she froze, unsure how to respond. These words, so unlike him, left her speechless. She couldn’t rember the last ti he’d addressed her in such a way. It was as if sothing had shifted in him, though Naomi wasn’t sure what.
Zylan, calm as ever, took his seat beside Naomi. He picked up his cutlery with graceful ease, signaling for everyone to begin. The family followed suit, and the quiet clinking of utensils replaced the silence as they all started eating. Naomi’s hand tightened slightly around her fork, but she made no move to eat. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched, scrutinized by everyone in the room. The weight of their gazes felt like a thousand tiny pricks on her skin.
The room was quiet, almost uncomfortably so, when Zylan unexpectedly began placing pieces of steak onto Naomi’s plate. His movents were calm and deliberate, each piece of at placed with careful attention, as though the act itself was a statent. Naomi’s heart fluttered in her chest, the gentle sound of the steak hitting her plate the only noise filling the room. Then, as if to break the silence, Zylan spoke, his voice gentle but firm.
"Eat more," he said with a soft smile. There was a quiet authority in his tone, an undertone of care that made Naomi’s cheeks warm as she beca acutely aware of all the eyes on her. She glanced up briefly, only to catch Sabrina’s expression—a fleeting flash of jealousy that vanished as quickly as it appeared. Sabrina’s gaze returned to her plate, her irritation unnoticed by the others.
Naomi nodded shyly, the warmth in her chest spreading as she tried to focus on the food before her.
Monts later, the chauffeur entered the dining room carrying a stack of wrapped gifts. The sight drew everyone’s attention, and Naomi’s father was the first to react. His eyes lit up, and for the first ti that day, a genuine excitent flickered in his expression.
"Wow gifts... I’m so happy that Mr. Zylan has brought sothing for ," he said with almost greedy excitent, his voice betraying a sense of eagerness that Naomi had never heard from him before.
Zylan shook his head dismissively, a polite smile on his face. "You should thank my wife, not ," he replied smoothly, his tone still calm. The room fell silent as Zylan finished speaking, and all attention shifted to Naomi in supise before turning to the chauffeur, who handed the butler a neatly wrapped gift.
Naomi’s father, Mr. Luke, watched with curiosity as the butler unwrapped the package with precision, as instructed. The room seed to hold its breath as the contents were revealed. His eyes widened in shock as he took in the sight of the luxury watch and exquisite leather shoes. They were both of exceptional quality, sothing Naomi’s father could only dream of owning.
For a brief mont, Naomi’s father’s hand trembled as the spoon he had been holding slipped from his fingers and clattered onto his plate. His eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at the gift, then turned his shocked gaze toward Zylan, and finally to Naomi. He blinked, as if trying to process the reality of the situation. His mind raced, recalling how frustrated and bitter he had been in previous years over not receiving such lavish gifts. And now, here it was, laid out before him—a gift of unimaginable worth.
A genuine smile broke across his face as he finally found his voice. "Thank you very much," he said warmly, his tone softening in a way that was rare for him. "This is, without a doubt, the best birthday of my life."
The room remained steeped in stunned silence. Naomi’s mother and sister were equally taken aback, their expressions frozen in disbelief. No one dared to ntion how much the luxury watch and shoes had cost, but the weight of their value was unmistakable. It hung in the air like an invisible force, settling over the family.
Naomi’s father, still recovering from the shock of the gift, turned to the butler. "Take the gifts to my room," he instructed. "I’ll be wearing them for this evening’s celebration."
Then, as if rembering sothing, he glanced at Zylan. "Mr. Zylan, will you and your wife be joining us at the table?"
Zylan, taking his ti to finish his al, continued eating until he was fully satisfied. Naomi’s father, mother, and Sabrina all watched him intently, patiently waiting for him to speak. They knew better than to interrupt him while he was still eating.
Finally, when Zylan had finished, he dabbed his lips with a napkin before turning to Naomi. "Eaglet," he said with a soft smile. "What do you think?"
Naomi’s cheeks flushed at the unexpected use of her nickna. She hadn’t expected him to address her so affectionately, and the warmth in her chest was quickly followed by a flutter of emotions.
She spoke quietly, her words thoughtful. "I was considering leaving after this, knowing that we both have sothing more important to do. But, seeing how my dad accepted the gift we brought—he even plans to wear it tonight—I suppose I’ll stay."
Zylan smiled softly before turning to face her father.
"My wife has spoken, so be it."
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