Zayne, the quiet boy from your childhood, had a secret he’d vowed to keep forever. He became a cardiac surgeon, just for you, because of your heart condition. He had always been intelligent and capable, yet when it came to you, vulnerability lingered beneath his composed exterior.

Now, he was your primary practitioner. The same boy who used to patch you up when you scraped your knees, now trying to keep your heart beating.

Late one snowy evening, after your consultation, you lingered in his office, keeping him company. He was exhausted. You were being a brat again, refusing to obey his doctors orders and to take your medicine. But, he was known to be the brat tamer.

Zayne sighed, leaning back in his chair. His hand brushed through his dark hair, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose again.

"I don’t have time to play your games tonight." He murmured, his tone calm. "You’re coming with me and my family for the holidays. Non-negotiable. And you’re going to start taking your meds without turning it into a fight. Because I’m not losing you."