My Vampire Beloved Husband

"D…don't die!" Naomi yelled at the stranger who sat on the railing of the balcony in the large mansion. She had come up to the highest floor to get some fresh air when she stumbled upon this mysterious figure, casually smoking a cigarette. Panic surged through her as her heart raced.

"Why would you do this? she shouted, her voice thick with urgency, why would you try to commit suicide? Do you think it's good? Don't you know it's a sin?"

Her voice echoed through the expansive halls, filled with both fear and desperation. Despite her frantic attempt to pull him back, he felt as though he was made of steel, his body unmoving at the edge of the balcony.

She had felt suffocated during the charity gala, wanting to calm her nerves after her mother's constant scrutiny and the comparisons between her and her younger sister, Anna. Little did she know, she would come across a stranger about to commit suicide.

Before she could fully register her surroundings, she saw a cold, dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Let go!" Naomi recoiled, her body shivering in fear as his eyes bore into hers. She instinctively took a step back, still gripping his arm, her mind racing with thoughts of what she could say to change his mind.

"I will if you come down," she said, her voice trembling. "Do you want to die? Do you know how many floors there are? It would probably take you a minute to hit the ground." She kept talking, hoping her words could somehow reach him, pulling him back from the brink.

The stranger removed his cigarette, letting the smoke curl around him like a dark cloud. Naomi's stomach churned. The night breeze tossed her blonde hair. "Why are you doing this? Stop smoking and get down from there. I see you're not in your right mind. Are you drunk? I'm sure your sane self wouldn't want to be seen like this."

At that moment, something flickered in his eyes—something Naomi couldn't place. But before she could delve deeper into his gaze, he turned away from her, focusing on the distant view. They locked eyes for just a second, sending chills down her spine. "Get out," he said, his voice low and threatening, "unless you want me to throw you down here."

"You can't," Naomi retorted, though fear was evident in her eyes. Despite her terror, she kept holding onto him. A low, dark chuckle escaped his lips—a sound that sent alarming bells ringing in her head. "Oh really? Watch me."

Just then, the large door behind them swung open with a loud bang, startling Naomi. She turned to see her mother entering the room. "What are you doing here?" her mother's voice boomed, stepping onto the balcony with wide eyes of confusion.

"Mom, I came to get fresh air, and then I saw him!" Naomi exclaimed, her voice rising in urgency. "He was trying to kill himself. I tried to save him, but he won't listen. Help me!"

Her mother stared at her, bewildered. "Who are you talking about? It seems like you're going insane." The coldness in her mother's voice pierced Naomi's heart, sending a drop of pain through her. "You foolish child."

Naomi felt the sting of her mother's disappointment, knowing all too well that she had been marked as the family's disgrace, the one destined to become the first reverend's sister. To her mother, this meant Naomi's future would be stripped of joy and rebellion.

"You are insane," her mother spat, her eyes narrowing in contempt as she turned to survey the room. "No, Mom, please! We need to save him!" Naomi cried, desperately scanning the balcony. Where was he? Where had he gone? Did he jump? Her eyes widened in horror. "Where did he go?"

"I saw him, I swear I saw him!"

"What did you see? And why would you swear?" her mother asked, her voice dripping with disbelief. "Don't you know that as a reverend's sister, you're not meant to do such things?"

Naomi's smile weakened at her mother's harsh words. Her mother had already concluded her role as a reverend's sister, even though Naomi hadn't yet turned 24. "I saw him! He was just sitting there on the railing!" Naomi insisted, desperation creeping into her voice. "He was about to jump, and I was trying to stop him!"

Her mother's expression hardened, disbelief etched across her features. "You're imagining things, Naomi. You've always had a vivid imagination, but this is too far. You need to stop this nonsense."

Before she could continue, the sharp sting of a slap caught Naomi off guard. Her mother's hand flew to her cheek, feeling the heat radiating from the impact. "Mom," she gasped, staring at her mother in shock.

As if propelled by anger, her mother delivered another slap to Naomi's other cheek—a swift and harsh reminder of her disapproval. "Now go inside, you fool. It seems you need a psychiatrist. No wonder no one wants to marry you."

Naomi stumbled backward as tears began to spill down her face, hot and unrelenting. She stood frozen, torn between anger and hurt, unable to comprehend how her own mother could be so cruel. "I just wanted to help him!" she cried, her voice breaking.

Her mother looked at her with disdain. "It seems you need psychiatric help. No man would want to marry you now; you're imagining a man on the railing.

I regret ever giving birth to you," she added, her voice sharp and cold.