Nana checked the cake one more time, adjusting the placement of the candles—twenty-seven of them, arranged in a neat circle.
The frosting wasn't perfect—she'd gotten it smudged on her face while decorating—but it was made with love, and that's what mattered.
Zayne had been working so hard lately. Long shifts at the hospital, emergency surgeries, responsibilities that pulled him away from home more than either of them liked. But tonight was his birthday, and she was determined to make it special.
She'd decorated their bedroom with soft lights, had wrapped gifts she hoped he'd like (though honestly, what did you get the man who could buy himself anything?), and had spent all afternoon baking this cake from scratch.
The apartment was quiet except for the soft music she'd put on. She glanced at the clock. He should be home any minute.Right on cue, she heard the key in the lock.
"Zayne!" She called out, unable to contain her excitement. "Don't come in yet! Close your eyes!"
A pause. Then his amused voice: "Why?"
"Just do it! Trust me!"
She heard him sigh fondly, heard his footsteps stop. "Alright. They're closed."
She quickly lit the candles, turned off most of the lights, and positioned herself behind the cake. "Okay! You can look!"
Zayne opened his eyes, and his expression transformed.
The kitchen glowed with candlelight. Nana stood behind a homemade cake, her face bright with excitement, a smudge of frosting still on the corner of her lips. She was wearing a dress—the short one he'd once mentioned (casually, trying not to stare) that he thought looked beautiful on her. Her hair was tied up, exposing the graceful line of her neck, and she was smiling at him like he wasmost important person in the world.
"Happy birthday, husband!" she said, voice like bells, like music, like everything good in his life distilled into sound.
Zayne felt something crack in his chest—the same thing that cracked every time she did something like this. Something thoughtful, something that showed she cared, something that reminded him he was worth celebrating.
He crossed the kitchen in three steps and kissed her forehead, gentle and reverent.
"You did all this?"
"Of course! Make a wish!" She was practically bouncing with excitement.
He closed his eyes, and his wish was simple, the same one it had been since the day they married: Let me deserve her. Let me make her happy. Let me be worthy of this love.
He blew out the candles, and Nana clapped, delighted.cut the cake together, and Zayne couldn't stop staring at the frosting smudge on her lips. Finally, unable to resist, he reached out and wiped it away with his thumb.
"You had frosting," he said softly.
"Oh!" She blushed. "I was decorating and I guess I—"
He kissed her before nana finish her words, tasting chocolate frosting and sweetness and her, and thought: This is better than any restaurant. This is perfect.
They ate cake, and she chattered about her day, about the gifts she'd gotten him (books she thought he'd like, a new tie, a photo frame with a picture of them from the wedding), and the whole time Zayne couldn't stop noticing—
The dress.
That dress.
The way it showed her legs, her shoulders, the graceful curve of her collarbones. The way she moved, completely unselfconscious, not realizing what she was doing to his carefully maintained composure.
"What do you want?" she asked suddenly. "For your birthday, I mean. What gift do you really want?"
Zayne set down his fork slowly, his eyes finding hers.
The professional mask—Dr. Li's mask—fell away completely. What remained was just Zayne, looking at his wife, wanting her with an intensity that made it hard to breathe.
"You," he said, voice dropping lower, rougher. "You're the gift I want."
Nana's breath caught. "I—what?"
He stood, moving toward her with deliberate intent. She stood too, nervous energy making her fidget with the hem of her dress.
He reached her, and instead of the gentle forehead kiss she expected, he scooped her up effortlessly, placing her on the kitchen counter.
"Zayne!"
She gasped, but he was already stepping between her legs, hands resting on the counter on either side of her hips, caging her in.
"Is this okay?" he asked, voice still low, eyes dark but gentle. "Tell me if it's not okay."
She nodded, speechless, heart hammering.
He leaned in, lips brushing against her ear, and she shivered at the contact. "You look beautiful tonight. This dress—" His voice was almost a growl. "Do you know what you do to me when you wear this dress?"
"I—I just thought you liked it—"
"I do." His lips traced along her jaw, feather-light touches that made her gasp. "I like it very much. Too much, probably."
Then his lips found the sensitive skin of her neck, and Nana made a sound she'd never made before—a soft whimper that seemed to snap something in Zayne's carefully maintained control.
His hands moved to her waist, holding her gently but firmly, and he peppered kisses along her neck, her jaw, the curve of her shoulder. Nana clung to him, arms wrapping around his neck, her earlier shyness evaporating in the heat of the moment.
"Zayne," she breathed, and hearing his name in that breathy tone made him groan against her skin.
He pulled back just enough to look at her—really look at her.
Her eyes were dark, pupils dilated, lips parted, breathing fast. She looked at him with trust and want and love, and it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
"I love you," he said, voice rough with emotion and desire. "So much. Every day I love you more and I didn't think that was possible but it keeps happening—"
She kissed him , cutting off his rambling, and this kiss was different from all their previous kisses. This was deeper, more urgent, filled with want and need and promise.His hands trembled as he held her closer, one hand cupping the back of her head, the other at her waist, and she responded with equal passion, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer.
When they finally broke apart for air, both breathing hard, Zayne pressed his forehead to hers.
"Nana," he said, voice shaking slightly. "I—we don't have to—if you're not ready—"
"I'm ready," she whispered. "I trust you. I love you. I'm ready."
Something in his expression shifted—from uncertain to determined, from questioning to sure. He kissed her again, softer this time, more reverent, and whispered against her lips: "Then let me show you. How much I love you. How beautiful you are. How long I've wanted this."
He lifted her easily, carrying her toward their bedroom, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder, heart racing with nervousness and anticipation and love.
"Are you sure?" he asked one more time at the threshold of their room. "We can stop anytime. Just say the word and I stop."
"I'm sure." She cupped his face, making him look at her. "I want this. I want you. All of you. Not Dr. Li. Just Zayne. Just my husband."
"Just Zayne," he repeated, something vulnerable flashing in his eyes. "Yes. That's all I want to be. With you."
He carried her inside, laying her down gently on their bed like she was something precious and fragile. The soft lights from the decorations she'd hung cast everything in warm gold, and for a moment he just looked at her—his wife, in that dress, looking up at him with trust and love.
"Beautiful," he whispered, leaning over her, hands braced on either side of her head. "So beautiful. How did I get so lucky?"
"I'm the lucky one," she said, reaching up to trace his face—the face she'd been too shy to look at properly when they first met, the face she now knew better than her own.
Zayne kissed her again, deeper, and his hands were gentle but sure as they traced patterns on her skin, learning what made her gasp, what made her sigh his name.
"I love you," he kept whispering between kisses. "I love you. I love you."
"I love you too," she breathed back. "So much. Show me. Please show me."
And as the candlelight flickered and the soft music played and the night wrapped around them like a blessing, Zayne did exactly that—showed her with touches and whispers and reverence just how much she meant to him, how completely she'd captured his heart, how desperately he loved every part of her.
The clinical, cold Dr. Li that the hospital knew was gone completely. What remained was just a man, vulnerable and emotional and overwhelmingly in love, giving himself completely to the woman who'd taught him what it meant to be human.
And Nana, who'd once thought herself too ordinary for someone like him, learned what it felt like to be worshipped, cherished, loved so completely that nothing else in the world existed except the two of them and this perfect moment.
So beautiful...Zayne thought as he held her close, as she whimpering his name like a prayer, as they came together in trust and love and promise. This is what I've been missing my whole life. This connection. This intimacy. This home.
And then thoughts faded entirely, replaced by feeling, by sensation, by the overwhelming rightness of being completely and utterly loved.
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The light filtered through the curtains, soft and golden.
Nana woke slowly, awareness coming in gentle waves. Warmth. Safety. Arms wrapped around her. The steady rhythm of breathing not her own.
She opened her eyes to find Zayne already awake, watching her with an expression so tender it made her chest ache.
"Good morning," he said softly, brushing hair from her face.
"Good morning." Her voice was shy, memories of the night before making her blush. "Did you—did you sleep well?"
"Best sleep of my life," he said honestly. He pulled her closer, tucking her head under his chin. "Thank you. For last night. For trusting me. For—for everything."
"Thank you for being so gentle. So patient." She nuzzled into his chest. "For being you. Not Dr. Li. Just Zayne."
"Always just Zayne with you," he promised. "Always."
They lay there for a long time, wrapped in each other, no need for words. The cake sat half-eaten in the kitchen. The candles had burned down. The gifts were still wrapped.
But none of that mattered.
Because the real gift had been this—the complete trust, the vulnerability, the intimacy of two people who loved each other enough to be completely themselves, walls down, hearts open, souls touching.
"Best birthday ever," Zayne murmured into her hair.
"Yeah?" She smiled against his chest.
"Yeah." He kissed the top of her head. "Every birthday with you will be the best birthday. Because you're the only gift I need. Just you. Always you."
"I love you," she whispered.
"I love you too. So much." He held her tighter. "Thank you for teaching me what that means. What love actually is. What home feels like."
They stayed in bed far longer than they should have, talking and laughing and stealing kisses, completely wrapped up in each other.
And somewhere, somehow, Grandpa Li was smiling.
Because his two lonely children had found not just love, but home. Not just connection, but intimacy. Not just partnership, but profound, soul-deep belonging.
Everything he'd hoped for when he'd written that letter.
Everything they'd needed but hadn't known to ask for.
Everything they'd built together, one moment of trust at a time.
Perfect, the old man's spirit whispered.
Absolutely perfect.
And it was.
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To be continued __