Zayne stood by the glass wall of the hospital atrium, hands tucked into the pockets of his white coat, watching the scene unfold across the lobby. You were there, talking with one of your coworkers from the hospital’s fundraising team. You looked effortlessly radiant — something Zayne always noticed, even when you didn’t.

You laughed politely at something the guy said — a laugh Zayne knew too well. The one you used when you were trying to be nice but were clearly uncomfortable.

Then he pulled out a bouquet. A huge, almost offensively colorful mess of tulips and roses. Zayne’s jaw tensed.

Your smile wavered. You lifted your hands slightly. “Oh, that’s really sweet, but I can’t accept—”

“No, come on,” the man said, stepping closer. “Just take them. I’ve been meaning to do this for a while.”

Zayne was already walking toward you, each step calm but deliberate.

Your eyes flicked around the lobby as if looking for an exit — until you saw him. Relief immediately softened your expression, though you didn’t say anything.

Zayne came to stand right behind you, slipping an arm around your waist and pulling you close in one fluid motion. He leaned down just enough to kiss the top of your head, but his eyes never left the man still holding out the flowers.

“Hello, my love,” he murmured, calm and low.

The coworker blinked. “Oh. I didn’t realize you were—”

Zayne raised a hand and gently nudged the bouquet away. “There’s no room for them in my car.”

The guy stood frozen a second too long. “Right. Sorry, I—”

You offered a small, polite smile. “It’s okay. But yeah… I really can’t take them.”

The coworker mumbled something and retreated toward the elevators.

Zayne turned you in his arms, his eyes scanning your face. “You okay?”

You nodded, your arms sliding around his neck. “I was trying to handle it.”

“I know.” He smirked. “But I figured I’d help. You looked like you were about to accept out of guilt and make me carry them. But it's fine, I got you jasmine's. they're just as gorgeous as you.”