The morning light filtered through the curtains of Grandpa Li's house—Zayne's temporary home during his visits—casting gentle shadows across the modest living room.
Nana knocked softly, three times as always, then used the spare key she still had from when she used to visit Grandpa. She'd come to make breakfast—a small gesture of care, the way she used to for the old man who'd believed in her.
The house was quiet. Too quiet.
"Zayne?" she called softly, setting down her bag of groceries.
No response.
She found him in the living room, and her breath caught.
He'd fallen asleep on the couch, laptop still open on the coffee table, the glow of the screen illuminating his peaceful face. He was wearing casual clothes—no suit, no white coat—just a simple shirt and comfortable pants. His usually perfectly styled hair was slightly mussed, one arm having slipped down while he slept.
He looked... different.
Not the intimidating surgeon. Not the award-winning doctor. Not the stoic professional who kept everyone at a distance.
Just Zayne. Vulnerable and human and unexpectedly soft.
Nana crept closer, careful not to wake him. His laptop screen showed a paused video conference—probably an international meeting given the timestamp. He must have been working until exhaustion claimed him.
Even here, on vacation, he couldn't fully rest. Still taking calls, still being Dr. Li, still carrying the weight of his responsibilities.
Her heart ached with tenderness.
His face in sleep was peaceful, the usual tension erased. His lips were slightly parted. Long eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks—she'd never noticed how long they were before.
There was a small crease between his eyebrows even in sleep, like he was dreaming of something serious.Lili was right, Nana thought with a small smile. He really does look like a prince from a fairy tale. The kind who needed someone to remind him to rest, to eat, to be human instead of just a title.
She stood there longer than necessary, just watching him sleep, memorizing this rare moment of unguarded vulnerability.
Then she quietly closed his laptop, careful not to disturb him, and moved to the kitchen.
Forty minutes later, the smell of cooking filled the house. Simple fried rice—the kind her mother taught her, with eggs and vegetables and the perfect amount of soy sauce. Side dishes of pickled radish and cucumber. Warm jasmine tea steeping in Grandpa's old teapot.
Nothing fancy. Nothing a hospital cafeteria would serve or a restaurant would charge for. Just home cooking, made with care.
She plated everything beautifully, the way Grandpa liked, then found a spare blanket and returned to the living room.Zayne hadn't moved. Still sleeping, still peaceful, still heartbreakingly vulnerable.
Nana carefully draped the blanket over him, tucking it gently around his shoulders. He shifted slightly, a small sound escaping—almost like a contented sigh—but didn't wake.
She allowed herself one indulgent moment: brushing a strand of hair from his forehead with feather-light fingers. His skin was warm. He leaned into her touch unconsciously, like a flower seeking sunlight.
Her heart did something complicated in her chest.
I'm in trouble, she thought. I'm falling so hard, and I don't know how to stop.
But looking at him—this brilliant, lonely man who'd traveled three hours to make apple jam with her siblings, who kept a potato-chicken drawing on his phone, who believed in her dreams when no one else did—she wasn't sure she wanted to stop.
She wrote a quick note on a scrap of paper:
Made you breakfast—it's in the kitchen. I'm at work (supermarket shift 9am-6pm). If you get bored, Lili and the twins would love to show you around the village. Or you could come visit me at work if you want to see the exciting world of grocery retail. :) Rest well. You needed it. —Nana
She propped the note against the teapot where he'd see it, took one last look at his sleeping face, and quietly left for work.
Zayne woke to the smell of food and immediate disorientation.
He'd fallen asleep during his meeting.
Unprofessional. Concerning.
He sat up quickly, reaching for his laptop, then stopped.
The laptop was closed. A blanket he didn't remember getting was wrapped around his shoulders. And there—the most wonderful smell coming from the kitchen.
He found the note. Read it twice. Felt something warm bloom in his chest.
She'd come. Made him breakfast. Covered him with a blanket. Let him sleep. Left him a note with a little smiley face that looked hand-drawn.
The breakfast was still warm. Simple but perfect—exactly what he needed after sleeping awkwardly on a couch. He ate slowly, savoring every bite, imagining her in this kitchen, cooking for him the way she used to cook for Grandfather.
If you want to see the exciting world of grocery retail, she'd written.
Zayne checked his watch. 11 AM. She'd been working for two hours. He should let her work in peace, not disturb her shift, definitely not show up like some kind of—
He was putting on his coat before he finished the thought.
.
.
.
.
.
The supermarket was small, local, nothing like the gleaming chain stores in Linkon. Zayne pushed open the door, and a cheerful bell announced his arrival.
There she was.
Nana stood at the register, scanning items for an elderly customer, her face bright with a genuine smile. She was wearing a simple uniform—nothing special—but somehow she made it look perfect. Her hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail. No makeup, all natural, exactly as she always was.
"—and Mrs. Wang, please tell your husband I asked about his knee," Nana was saying.
"Is the herbal compress helping?"
"Oh yes, dear! Much better! You're so thoughtful to remember—"
"Of course I remember. You're family." Nana finished bagging the groceries with care, making sure the eggs were on top, the bread protected. "Have a wonderful day!"
"You too, sweet girl!" The woman waved and turned—then froze when she saw Zayne standing awkwardly in the aisle.
"Oh! Oh my! It's the doctor!"
Nana's head snapped up. Her eyes went wide. "Zayne! I—I didn't think you'd actually—"
"You invited me," he said, suddenly uncertain.
"Was that—should I not have—"
"No! I mean yes! I mean—" She flushed adorably. "I'm glad you came. I just—I didn't expect—"
"THE DOCTOR IS HERE!" Mrs. Wang announced to the entire store at maximum volume. "NANA'S DOCTOR CAME TO VISIT HER AT WORK!"
Heads popped up from every aisle. Customers suddenly found reasons to migrate toward the front. The store manager appeared from the back, looking starstruck.
"Dr. Li? The cardiac surgeon from the news?"
"Just visiting," Zayne said, already regretting this decision. No—not regretting. But perhaps underestimating the village gossip network's enthusiasm.
"He came to see our Nana work!" someone stage-whispered.
"How romantic!"
"Like a drama!"
"During work hours too—he must be serious!"
Nana looked like she wanted to disappear into the floor. "I'm so sorry—they're—everyone's just—"
"It's fine."
And it was. Zayne moved to stand near her register, deliberately casual.
"I thought I'd shop for groceries. Since I'm here."
"You need groceries?" She looked skeptical.
"Many groceries. For your family. As a thank you for—" He gestured vaguely. "—for everything."
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Zayne—"
"I'm shopping," he said firmly, grabbing a cart. "You focus on work. I'll focus on... grocery acquisition."
He spent the next hour filling his cart while she worked. He was thorough, methodical, applying his surgical precision to grocery shopping. Fresh vegetables—enough variety for balanced nutrition. Rice—the expensive kind that cooked fluffier. Meat—quality cuts, properly marbled. Snacks for the children—he consulted Mrs. Wang on popular choices. Fruits, eggs, milk, cooking oil, spices, noodles, everything a family of seven might need.
His cart looked like he was preparing for a siege.
"Sir," the store manager said nervously, approaching. "That's... that's a lot of groceries."
"Is it?" Zayne surveyed his cart. "I suppose it is."
"Where are you staying? Do you need help arranging delivery?"
"I—" Zayne paused. He couldn't deliver it to Nana's house while she was here. She'd protest, probably refuse, definitely feel awkward about accepting.
"Is there a taxi service that could deliver to a specific address? Discreetly?"
The manager's eyes widened with understanding. "Ah. For Miss Nana's family?"
"I'd prefer she didn't know until after delivery."
"Smart man." The manager grinned.
"She's too proud, our Nana. Always refuses help. But her family needs it." He pulled out a card. "My cousin drives taxi. He's very discreet. Give me the address and payment, and I'll arrange everything."
Twenty minutes later, enough groceries to feed a small army were being loaded into a taxi with instructions to deliver to "the house with the blue door" and tell Nana's mother it was "from a friend who prefers to remain anonymous."
Zayne hoped Nana wouldn't figure it out immediately. Though knowing her, she probably would.
He returned to the store. Nana was finishing her shift, chatting with the last customer, still radiating warmth and genuine kindness to everyone who approached.
She was beautiful like this. Not magazine beautiful, not sophisticated or glamorous. Just... real. Authentically herself, making minimum wage feel like a calling because she treated every customer like they mattered.
How had he gotten so lucky? That Grandfather's final wish had led him to her?
Nana clocked out, changed out of her uniform, and found him waiting by the entrance.
"You stayed the whole shift,"
she said, looking touched and embarrassed.
"I wanted to walk you home. You said bad people sometimes follow you."
"It's still daylight—"
"Indulge me." His voice was gentle. "Please."
She smiled, soft and sweet. "Okay."
They walked toward her house, the afternoon sun warm on their shoulders. They'd made it two blocks when Lili appeared, running at full speed, princess dress fluttering behind her.
"Dr. Zayne! Dr. Zayne!" She crashed into his legs, panting. "Can—can you carry me? I'm so tired from playing and Mama said you might be at the store and—"
"Of course." Zayne lifted her easily, settling her piggyback style. She wrapped small arms around his neck, immediately relaxing against his back.
"You're so tall," she mumbled sleepily. "Like a giraffe prince."
"That's a new one," Nana said, grinning.
They continued walking, Lili already half-asleep on Zayne's back, her princess dress draped over his shoulder like a colorful cape.
"You're good with her," Nana observed quietly. "With all of them."
"They're easy to be good with. They're honest about what they need."
"Not everyone sees it that way. Most people find children annoying."
"Most people are wrong about many things."
Zayne adjusted his hold on Lili, making sure she was secure. "I like children. They're... uncomplicated. Genuine. They say what they mean."
Nana was quiet for a moment. Then:
"You'd make a wonderful father someday."
Zayne's step faltered. "What?"
"I can just—I can see it." She gestured at him carrying Lili.
"The way you're so gentle with her. How you saved her drawing. How you bought thoughtful gifts for everyone. You're naturally soft with children, even though you try to act like you're all clinical and logical."
"I'm not—I don't think—" He paused, genuinely flustered. "I've never considered fatherhood."
"Really? Never?"
"My parents were—" He stopped. "Let's say they provided an excellent example of what not to do. I assumed I'd follow their pattern. Career over family. Work over personal life."
"But you're not like them." Nana's voice was certain. "You took three days off to make apple jam. You visit a small village because an old man asked you to. You carry a sleepy five-year-old home without complaint. You're nothing like the parents who left you."
Something in Zayne's chest cracked open. "You really believe that?"
"I see it. Every time you're with my siblings."
She looked up at the darkening sky, stars beginning to appear.
"You'd be the kind of dad who remembers to attend school plays. Who helps with homework even when he's exhausted. Who makes his kids feel seen and valued and loved."
Her voice softened. "The kind of dad you deserved to have."
Zayne couldn't speak. Emotion clogged his throat, sharp and overwhelming.
"Look," Nana pointed upward. "The stars are so clear tonight. You can't see them like this in the city, can you?"
"No," he managed. "Too much light pollution."
"I used to make wishes on stars when I was little. Silly childhood dreams." She smiled.
"I'd wish my father would come back. That we'd have enough food. That someone would see me as more than just... struggling."
"And now?" His voice was rough. "What do you wish for now?"
She was quiet, walking beside him while he carried her sleeping sister, under a canopy of stars that witnessed their slow, inevitable falling.
"Now," she said finally, so softly he almost missed it, "I wish for impossible things. Things I'm afraid to say out loud in case they disappear."
"Try me," Zayne said. "I've become quite fond of impossible things lately."
She looked at him then—really looked at him, with those eyes that saw through every defense he'd ever built."I wish," she whispered.
"that fairy tales could be real. That a prince could fall for a village girl. That someone like you could be happy with someone like me. That this—" She gestured between them. "—could be more than just honoring an old man's dying wish."
Zayne stopped walking. They were close to her house now, golden light spilling from the windows, but he didn't move.
"Nana," he said carefully.
"What if I told you it stopped being about Grandfather's wish weeks ago?"
Her breath caught. "What?"
"What if I told you I visit because I can't stay away? That I buy groceries for your family because the thought of you struggling makes me physically ill? That I carry your sister because I want to be part of this—" He gestured toward the warm house, the family inside. "—because when I'm here, I feel like I'm finally home?"
"Zayne—
"What if I told you," he continued, voice dropping to something raw and honest.
"that you've become my favorite person to talk to? That I save things throughout my day just to share with you? That falling asleep on a call with you has become better than any rest I get alone?"
Nana's eyes filled with tears. "You can't—you don't mean—"
"I mean all of it." He shifted Lili's weight carefully, then reached out with his free hand to catch one of Nana's tears. "I'm falling in love with you. Possibly already have fallen. I don't know when it happened—maybe when you served me soup that tasted like home, maybe when you climbed a tree to escape a swan, maybe every single moment since we met. But it's happening, and I—"
"I'm falling too," she interrupted, voice breaking. "So hard I can't breathe sometimes. So hard it terrifies me because you're everything I'm not supposed to want. Everything I can't have. Everything that belongs in a different world—"
"Stop." He caught her hand, lacing their fingers together. "Stop saying you're not enough. You're everything. Everything I didn't know I needed. Everything I was too afraid to hope for."
They stood there in the street, a sleeping child on his back, stars overhead, their hands clasped tight like a promise.
"This is crazy," Nana whispered.
"Completely," Zayne agreed.
"We barely know each other."
"I know you better than people I've known for years."
"The village will gossip."
"They're already planning our wedding. Might as well give them something real to discuss."
She laughed through her tears. "You're ridiculous."
"You make me ridiculous." He squeezed her hand. "You make me human. Real. Less like a robot, more like—" He paused. "—more like someone who could actually be happy."
"Are you?" she asked. "Happy?"
"Right now?" He looked at her—this small, fierce woman who'd crashed into his carefully controlled life and turned everything upside down. "Right now, with you, I'm the happiest I've ever been."
She stepped closer, and for a moment he thought she might kiss him. Instead, she leaned her forehead against his shoulder—careful of sleeping Lili—and just breathed.
"What do we do now?" she whispered.
"Now," Zayne said softly, "we keep trying. Keep learning each other. Keep building toward something neither of us can quite imagine yet but both of us desperately want."
"Okay," she said. "Yes. Let's try."
From the house, Nana's mother appeared in the doorway. "Nana! Dr. Li! Why are you standing in the street? Come inside! And who delivered all these groceries? There's enough food for a month!"
Nana pulled back, narrowing her eyes at Zayne. "You didn't."
"I may have. Slightly. Shopped."
"Zayne—"
"Come argue about it inside," he suggested. "Lili's heavy when she's asleep."
She wanted to be mad. He could see it. But instead, she laughed—that bright, beautiful sound he'd become addicted to—and tugged him toward the house.
"You're impossible," she said.
"You make me want to be impossible," he replied.
And under the stars, walking toward the warm glow of her family's small house, carrying her sleeping sister while their hands stayed linked.
Zayne thought that maybe, just maybe, fairy tales could come true.
Even for cynical surgeons and village girls who climbed trees.
Even for people who weren't supposed to fit.
Even for two lonely souls who'd found their way home to each other.
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To be continued __