Zayne had been consumed by work for weeks, barely setting foot in your apartment. The hospital demanded all his time, leaving little room for anything else.

The playful dares, the stolen moments—they had all faded. His replies had become brief and delayed, his calls almost always declined. And the worst part? Yesterday, he completely forgot. Your three-year anniversary, which was also Valentine’s Day, had slipped his mind entirely.

You didn’t have the energy to argue anymore. Instead, you let it go, carrying on with your routine as if it didn’t matter. But as you returned home from work, there he was—standing inside your apartment, still in his white coat, a bouquet of flowers in hand.

"Happy anniversary," Zayne said, his voice edged with guilt. "And Valentine’s Day. I know I’m two days late… work has been nonstop." His faint smile didn’t quite reach his tired eyes.