Zayne stared at the apple in his hand like it was a particularly complex cardiac anomaly.
"You've performed open-heart surgery," Nana said, trying not to laugh. "Surely you can peel an apple?"
"Surgery has protocols. Established procedures."
He turned the apple awkwardly, the peeler removing chunks instead of smooth strips. "This is... imprecise."
"It's an apple, not a patient." She moved beside him, her small hand covering his to guide the peeler. "Gentle pressure, steady motion. See?"
Her hand was warm on his. She smelled like apples and cinnamon. Zayne found it difficult to concentrate on the actual peeling when she was this close, her shoulder brushing his arm, her voice soft and patient.
"There! You did it!" She beamed at his admittedly mangled but successfully peeled apple. "Now cut it into pieces—small ones for the jam."
The kitchen had transformed into organized chaos. Nana worked at the stove, stirring the large pot with practiced ease. The twins sat at the table, helping to cut apples while arguing about the latest K-drama episode.
"But the second male lead is clearly better!" one twin insisted. "He actually listens to her!"
"The main lead is more romantic though! That rooftop scene—"
"The second lead held her when she cried! That's more important than fancy gestures—"
Zayne found himself listening with fascination. He'd never watched K-dramas, never understood the appeal, but the twins' passionate debate was entertaining.
"What do you think, Dr. Li?" one twin asked suddenly. "If you were the female lead, would you choose the successful CEO who's cold but gradually warms up, or the childhood friend who's always been there?"
Everyone went quiet. Nana's spoon paused mid-stir. Even Lili looked up from her coloring book with interest.
Zayne considered the question seriously.
"I suppose... the one who sees you clearly. Success and history matter less than genuine understanding."
The twins exchanged knowing looks.
"He'd choose the childhood friend."
"Definitely the childhood friend," the other agreed.
Nana's face had gone pink, but she was smiling as she returned to her stirring.
"I'm drawing!" Lili announced, shoving her paper at Zayne. "Look! It's a chicken!"
Zayne studied the drawing carefully. It appeared to be a round potato with four stick legs and what might be a beak. Or possibly another leg. Hard to determine.
"It's very... creative," he said diplomatically.
"It's a chicken," Lili insisted. "See? That's the head, and those are the feathers—"
"It looks like a potato with legs," one twin said helpfully.
"Does not!"
"Does too!"
"It's a perfectly good chicken-potato hybrid," Meimei called from the living room where she was doing homework. "Very avant-garde."
Everyone burst out laughing—including Lili, who giggled at her own creation.
Zayne pulled out his phone and took a picture of the drawing. "May I keep this? For difficult days at the hospital."
Lili's eyes went huge. "Really? You want my drawing?"
"Really. It's far more cheerful than medical charts."
She threw her arms around him with the unselfconscious affection he was starting to treasure.
"You're the best prince ever!"
Over her head, Zayne caught Nana watching him with such soft, tender expression it made his chest ache.
She quickly looked away, but not before he saw it—the warmth, the affection, the beginnings of something deeper.
He was falling. Had already fallen, probably, that first day when she'd served him soup that tasted like home.
The realization should terrify him. Instead, it felt inevitable. Right.
"Jam's ready!" Nana announced. "Let it cool, then we'll jar it."
While they waited, she taught him how to properly sterilize jars—another skill he'd never needed but found oddly satisfying. The twins kept up their K-drama debate. Lili demanded he critique more of her drawings (a cat that looked like a cloud, a house that defied physics). Meimei asked intelligent questions about medical school that he answered with more enthusiasm than he'd expected.
This, he thought. This ordinary afternoon making jam with children arguing in the background.
This was what life was supposed to feel like.
Not empty apartments and takeout dinners.
Not prestige without purpose.
But this: hands sticky with apple juice, Lili's laughter, the twins' passionate debates,
Nana's smile when their eyes met across the kitchen.
Simple. Chaotic. Perfect.
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.
Two hours later, they had twenty jars of apple jam cooling on the counter. Nana had already received texts from neighbors wanting to buy.
"Mrs. Chen wants three jars," she read from her phone.
"And Auntie Wang wants two. Oh! Mr. Liu from the store wants five to sell there"
"That's excellent," Zayne said, genuinely proud. "You'll sell out before evening."
"Will you—" She hesitated. "Will you come with me? To deliver them? It's silly, but I'm nervous and you make me feel—" She stopped, blushing.
"Brave?" he suggested gently.
"Less alone," she corrected softly.
"Then yes. Of course."
They loaded jars into a basket—Nana insisted on carrying it despite Zayne's protests—and set out into the village together.
The afternoon sun painted everything golden. They walked side by side, close enough that their hands occasionally brushed, sending electric sparks through Zayne's carefully controlled nervous system.
"Tell me about your art college plans,"he said.
Nana's face lit up. "There's a university in Linkon—not prestigious, but they have a good art program. If I pass the entrance exam and save enough for tuition..."
She trailed off wistfully. "It's probably impossible. The exam is difficult, tuition is expensive, and I'd have to move to the city—"
"It's not impossible." Zayne's voice was firm. "You're brilliant. You'll pass the exam."
"You don't know that—"
"I do. You managed high school while working night shifts and raising your siblings. You taught yourself to cook from memory. You built a jam business in one afternoon."
He stopped walking, turning to face her.
"You're one of the most capable people I've ever met. The exam doesn't stand a chance."
Her eyes filled with tears. "No one's ever believed in me like you do."
"Then everyone else is blind."
He reached out and gently wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb—an intimate gesture that surprised them both.
"And for what it's worth... if you move to Linkon for school, you wouldn't be alone there."
"What do you mean?"
"I live there. I could—" He hesitated, then pushed forward. "I could help. With studying, with adjustment, with whatever you need."
She stared at him, understanding dawning. "Zayne—"
"THERE THEY ARE!"
They jumped apart as Auntie Chen appeared, waving enthusiastically.
"I've been waiting! Is that my jam?"
The spell broke. Nana quickly composed herself, putting on her business smile.
"Yes, Auntie! Three jars as requested."
They spent the next hour going door to door, delivering jam and accepting payment. Every household welcomed them with enthusiasm—and shameless gossip.
"Such a handsome couple!"
"The doctor came back for her—it must be serious!"
"When's the wedding? I need time to prepare my gift!"
"My granddaughter is getting married next month—you two should come! It's good luck to invite new couples!"
Each comment made Nana more flustered and Zayne more amused. He'd never been the subject of such warm, intrusive interest.
In Linkon, people gossiped about his medical achievements or speculated about his personal life from a distance. But here, the aunties said everything directly to his face with cheerful shamelessness.
You're handling this well,"
Nana whispered as they walked between houses. "Most city people find village gossip overwhelming."
"I find it refreshing," Zayne admitted. "At least they're honest about their curiosity instead of pretending sophisticated disinterest."
"That's a very diplomatic way of saying they're nosy."
"They care about you. There's a difference."
She smiled, soft and genuine. "They do. This village raised me when my father abandoned us. These aunties taught me to cook, gave us hand-me-down clothes, brought groceries when Mother struggled. They're nosy because they care."
"Then I like them," Zayne said simply. "Anyone who cares about you is worth tolerating."
She bumped his shoulder gently with hers—a playful, affectionate gesture that made his heart stutter.By the time they delivered the last jar to Mr. Liu's store, the entire village was buzzing with the news: Dr. Li from Linkon City was walking around with Nana, looking at her like she hung the moon.
"The way he watches her," one auntie said to another as they passed. "My husband used to look at me like that—forty years ago!"
"Young love," another sighed dreamily. "So beautiful."
"I give them six months before he proposes," a third predicted.
"Six months? I give them three!"
"Want to bet on it?"
Zayne heard it all—everyone did, they weren't exactly quiet—and found himself wondering if the aunties were right.
Six months? Three months?How long before he could ask her to build a life with him? How long before "trying to honor Grandfather's wish" became "I can't imagine my future without you"?
Looking at her now—laughing at something Mr. Liu said, her whole face radiant with joy, the setting sun catching in her hair—Zayne suspected it wouldn't take months at all.
He was already there.
He'd been there since she'd served him soup and called it love made tangible.
The only question was whether she felt the same way.
And whether he was brave enough to ask.
They walked back to her house as the sun set, basket empty, her pocket full of money she kept patting with delighted disbelief.
"I can't believe I sold twenty jars in one afternoon," she said. "That's enough for art supplies and exam prep books!"
"You'll sell more. Everyone raved about the quality."
"We," she corrected gently. "We made the jam. You helped."
"I mostly mangled apples and took pictures of potato-chickens."
She laughed—that bright, unrestrained sound he was becoming addicted to. "You were perfect. Lili wouldn't stop talking about how the prince liked her drawing."
"It was objectively a very creative potato-chicken."
They reached her front gate, and both slowed, reluctant for the evening to end. Inside, they could hear the family—dinner sounds, laughter, Lili's excited chatter.
"Thank you," Nana said softly. "For today. For helping. For—for making me feel like this life isn't small or pathetic. Like I'm not—"
"If you say 'not enough,' I'll be genuinely upset." Zayne's voice was firm. "You're extraordinary. Your life is rich and full and meaningful. Anyone who makes you feel otherwise is wrong."
She looked up at him with shining eyes. "Is it really okay? That I'm not sophisticated or educated or—"
"It's more than okay."
He wanted to touch her, to cup her face, to make her believe him. "It's perfect. You're perfect. Exactly as you are."
They stood in the gathering dusk, the village settling into evening quiet around them, and Zayne felt the words pushing at his throat.
I'm falling in love with you.
I think I've been falling since the moment you served me soup.
I want this—you, your family, this village, this life—more than I've wanted anything.
But before he could find the courage to speak, the door burst open and Lili appeared in her princess dress.
"Nana! Dr. Zayne! Mama says dinner's ready and you have to come eat RIGHT NOW because she made your favorites!"
The moment broke. Nana smiled apologetically. "Duty calls."
"So it does." Zayne gestured for her to go ahead, and as she walked past, he caught her hand briefly—just a squeeze, just a moment of connection.She squeezed back, and that simple touch said more than words could:
I feel it too.
This thing between us.
This impossible, beautiful thing.
Inside, dinner was the usual cheerful chaos. But under the table, their feet touched and stayed touching, a secret conversation no one else could hear.
And across the village, the aunties were already making their bets.
Three months, most of them agreed.
Three months before the famous doctor would finally ask the question everyone could already see in his eyes.
But Zayne, watching Nana laugh with her siblings, her face bright with happiness—
He was starting to think even three months was too long to wait.
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To be continued __