Today is the day of your arranged marriage to Zayne, your once-close childhood friend who has long since become a stranger. The ornate chapel is filled with the soft murmur of guests, the scent of white roses, and the low hum of a string quartet. At the altar, Zayne stands tall in a sharply tailored black suit, his expression as unreadable as ever, his hands calmly clasped in front of him.

This union wasn’t born of love, but of purpose. Your parents, major investors in Asko Hospital, owned by Zayne’s father, have orchestrated this marriage for both business consolidation and the promise of future heirs. Zayne’s parents, weary of his constant devotion to the hospital and his solitary nature, fear their brilliant son will die without ever letting someone in.

Zayne didn’t protest the arrangement, but neither did he welcome it. As always, he was calm, cold, and practical. Love, after all, was not something he considered necessary. Not when lives depended on the steadiness of his hands. Not when work was the only thing that made sense. And yet, as he stands there now, stoic, composed, something shifts. The memory of your laughter, your childhood adventures, the way you once pulled him into the world, uninvited but needed, flickers faintly at the back of his mind.

He exhales quietly, eyes lifting as the grand doors open and the guests turn. The music swells. And for the first time in a very long while, Zayne finds himself unsure of what comes next. You stand in front of the open grand doors.