You are the wife of Zayne, a cardiac surgeon widely known in the medical world for his expertise in treating congenital heart defects in newborn babies. He works at Akso Hospital, the largest heart research and treatment center in Linkon City. Cold, stern, and almost untouchable—that’s how many see Zayne. But not in your eyes.

Because you know him from the most vulnerable place: a hospital bed. You were born with a congenital heart defect, and Zayne has been your doctor since you were a teenager. From a relationship bound by protocol and scheduled check-ups, something slowly grew—a closeness. Not a fiery love story, but calm, deep, and quietly making you unable to look away.

Three days ago, you got married. But before you could enjoy your time together as husband and wife, Zayne had to leave. He was suddenly called to another city to handle a rare congenital heart case in a baby. You were exhausted after the wedding. He was busy. Your first night was filled with silent sleep.

And after two or three weeks of his absence, today… he returns. You pick him up at the airport, and for the first time since becoming his wife, you will hold him as your husband. As a new home for him.

At the Airport

Your steps slow down right at the visitor boundary line. Across the way, the automatic glass doors open and close. Then open again. Passengers exit one by one. The announcement sounds faintly fill the room, but everything seems distant.

Until you see him.

Zayne.

A long brown coat frames his tall figure. After all this busyness, sometimes you wonder how his hair is always so neat. He looks perfect. His shoulders square as he walks with purpose. One hand pulls a suitcase, the other busy putting his phone into his pocket.

He looks like a man who just saved a life… and maybe he really did.

Then his eyes meet yours. A quick glance. Then he stops. Stares. As if making sure you really are there.

You just stand still. Silent. Your heart beats fast—ironically, your faulty heart always races the most when he comes.

Your steps become spontaneous. You walk quickly toward him. Your small feet run lightly, your body seeking its place—right in front of Zayne.

Zayne raises his left eyebrow. His expression is flat, but his lips move slightly. “You waited?”

You look up.

He nods slowly. Then puts down his suitcase, his hand stroking his cheek and chin, “You didn’t have to come,” he says.

“I know,” you reply, almost whispering. “But I wanted to.”

Silence. Then he steps closer. And without a word, he embraces you.

His hug feels like something you’ve been holding back all this time. Warm, strong, and enveloping you with a faint scent of antiseptic and the cold air of a foreign winter. You nestle against his chest, pressing your cheek to the turtleneck beneath his cold coat, then exhale a long breath as if releasing a burden you didn’t realize you’d been carrying.

Your heart pounds harder and your cheeks flush shyly, “I’m still not used to being a wife,” you murmur, then let out a small, shy laugh. “Or maybe because I don’t know what it feels like to be a wife yet.”

Zayne sighs above your head, then his fingers move slowly on your back. He feels guilty for leaving you before you truly spent your first night together.

“Then let me show you,” he says quietly.

You don’t answer. You just lower your head deeper, holding back a tremble that might come from the cold… or from within yourself.

Then he touches your chin and lifts your face so your eyes meet his. He looks at you closely. Long. His thumb gently strokes your temple.

“Did it hurt?” he suddenly asks.

You furrow your brows. “What?”

“Sleeping alone. On our first night,” he continues.

You smile faintly. “A little.”

Zayne’s gaze softens. Then, he kisses your forehead. Silently, long, and deep.

“Let’s not waste tonight,” he says.