The supermarket had been quiet all morning.
Nana was restocking shelves, humming softly to herself, thinking about Zayne's call last night. He'd sounded exhausted but determined, and the way he'd said
"I'll choose you every time" kept replaying in her mind like a favorite song.
"Nana!" Her manager's voice cut through her thoughts. He looked nervous, fidgeting with his clipboard. "There are—um—two women here. They want to speak with you. They said it's important."
"Women?" Nana set down her box of canned goods. "What about?"
"They didn't say. But Nana—" He lowered his voice. "They're dressed like they're from the city. Expensive clothes. They look... important."
A cold feeling settled in Nana's stomach.
"Where are they?"
"Near the front register. I told them you'd be right there."
Nana smoothed down her uniform, suddenly hyperaware of how plain it was, how her ponytail was coming loose, how her hands were rough from work. She rounded the corner to the front of the store and froze.
Two women stood by the register, and they looked like they'd stepped out of a magazine spread.
The first was older—fifties maybe, wearing a tailored cream suit that probably cost more than Nana made in six months. Her hair was perfectly styled, diamond earrings catching the fluorescent lights. She had sharp, intelligent eyes that were surveying the small supermarket with barely concealed judgment.
Those eyes. Hazel, like Zayne's. This was his mother.
The Second woman was younger, maybe late twenties. Tall—so tall, easily 170cm—wearing a navy blue dress that hugged her elegant figure. Her makeup was flawless, her posture perfect. She looked like she belonged on a runway or in a boardroom, not a rural supermarket. Beautiful, sophisticated, everything Nana wasn't.
This must be Melissa.
Nana felt herself shrinking. Her uniform suddenly felt like a costume, marking her as lesser-than. Her worn sneakers, her bare face, her callused hands—everything about her screamed "not good enough" in comparison to these women who sparkled like stars.
"Miss Wang?" Zayne's mother's voice was cool, professional. "Angelina Wang?"
"Y-yes." Nana's voice came out small. She cleared her throat, tried again. "Yes. How can I help you?"
Dr. Li Jing. Zayne's mother." She gestured to her companion. "This is Dr. Melissa Chen. We'd like to speak with you. Privately, if possible."
Nana glanced at her manager, who nodded quickly. "Take your break. I'll cover the register."
She led them to the small break room in the back—a cramped space with a rickety table and plastic chairs, nothing like what these women were probably used to. She offered them seats, her hands trembling slightly.
Dr. Li sat with perfect posture, setting her designer purse on the table. Melissa sat beside her, crossing her long legs gracefully.
They both looked at Nana with expressions that made her feel like a specimen under a microscope.
"Would you like—would you like some tea?" Nana offered automatically, the hospitality her mother taught her.
"No,thank you. We won't take much of your time." Dr. Li folded her hands on the table.
"I'm sure you can guess why we're here."
Nana's heart hammered. "Not exactly."
"My son seems quite... taken with you."
The way she said it made it sound like a disease. "Despite my advice, despite better options, he's chosen to pursue this—"
She waved a hand vaguely. "—this relationship."
Nana said nothing. What could she say?.
"I'll be direct, Miss Wang. I'm a scientist. I believe in data, in measurable outcomes."
Dr. Li leaned forward slightly. "So I've come to ask you a very simple question: What can you offer my son?"
The words hit like a physical blow. Nana blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"What can you offer him?" Dr. Li repeated slowly, as if speaking to a child. "Zayne is a brilliant cardiac surgeon. Chief of his department at twenty-five. Award-winning researcher. He has a future most people can only dream of. So I'm asking—what do you bring to his life? What can you offer him that justifies this relationship?"
Nana opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. No words came.
"Can you match his education level?"
Dr. Li continued, voice crisp and clinical.
"Can you discuss his research with him? Understand his work? Provide intellectual stimulation?"
"I—I'm studying for university entrance exams—"
"High school level education, then. Against his medical degree and doctorate."
Dr. Li made a small note on her phone.
"What about financial contribution? Can you support yourself? Contribute to a household?"
"I work three jobs—
"Part time,minimum wage positions."
Another note. "What about social connections? Can you navigate the medical community? Host dinners for his colleagues? Represent him at professional functions?"
Nana's throat closed. She couldn't speak.
Melissa leaned forward, her smile sharp and beautiful. "I don't mean to be cruel, but let's be realistic. Dr. Li and I can discuss his research. I understand the pressures of medical advancement. I can stand beside him at conferences, contribute intellectually and professionally. I have my own career, my own achievements. I can be a partner, not a dependent."
She tilted her head, false sympathy in her eyes. "What can you offer besides... what? Cooking? Cleaning? Playing house? Those things are nice, but they're not enough for someone like Zayne. He needs an equal. Someone who matches his caliber."
Nana's voice cracked. Tears burned behind her eyes. "I love him. I care about him—"
"Love." Dr. Li's laugh was cold. "Love fades, Miss Wang. What remains is compatibility. Shared interests. Mutual respect born from equal standing. You're a sweet girl, I'm sure. But you're not what my son needs. You're not equipped to handle his world."
"Look around," Melissa gestured to the tiny break room, the chipped table, the worn floor. "This is your world. Zayne's world is five-star hotels, international conferences, cutting-edge research. Can you honestly see yourself there? In a ballgown, making small talk with Nobel laureates? Or would you just be a pretty ornament, smiling and nodding, not understanding a word?"
Each question was a knife. Each comparison a wound.Nana saw herself through their eyes: small, uneducated, poor, insignificant.
A village girl playing dress-up, pretending she could fit in a world of diamonds and doctorates.
"I just—" Dr. Li's voice softened slightly, almost kind. "I just want you to think realistically. Zayne is going through something right now. Grief over his grandfather, rebellion against his upbringing. You're a symbol of that rebellion—simple, uncomplicated, different from everything he knows. But symbols fade. Reality sets in. And when it does, when he realizes what he's sacrificed for this fantasy—"
"He'll resent you," Melissa finished. "He'll look at you and see all the opportunities he gave up. The career advancement he missed because he was visiting villages instead of networking. The research partnerships he lost because his wife couldn't navigate academic circles. The respect he forfeited because people whispered about the supermarket girl he married."
"Is that what you want?" Dr. Li asked.
"To be the reason his brilliant career falters? To be the anchor weighing him down instead of the wind lifting him up?"
Tears spilled down Nana's cheeks. She couldn't stop them.
"I thought not." Dr. Li stood gracefully. "You seem like a kind person, Miss Wang. So be kind now. Let him go. Let him find someone who can truly be his partner, not his burden. Someone who enhances his life instead of limiting it."
Melissa stood too, towering over Nana even more. She pulled out a business card, placed it on the table. "If you need help—financially, professionally, whatever you need to make this easier—call me. I'll make sure you're taken care of. Consider it... compensation for stepping aside gracefully."
They're left Just like that. Swept out in their expensive clothes and clouds of perfume, leaving Nana sitting alone in the break room, staring at that business card, tears streaming down her face.
Everything they'd said crashed over her like waves. Every doubt she'd ever had about herself, every insecurity she'd tried to bury—all of it came roaring back.
What can you offer him?
Nothing. She had nothing to offer. No education, no money, no sophistication. Just love, which apparently wasn't enough.
Would never be enough.
She thought about Zayne at medical conferences, surrounded by brilliant people like Melissa. People who understood his work, spoke his language, matched his caliber. And then she thought about herself—trying to understand medical journals, stumbling over technical terms, standing in a corner at formal events, not knowing what to say or how to act.
She'd be his embarrassment. His mistake. The poor choice he made during grief and rebellion.
He'll resent you.
Nana pressed her hands over her mouth, trying to muffle her sobs. Her manager knocked softly.
"Nana? Are you okay? Those women—they left you crying—should I call someone?"
"I'm fine," she managed. "I just need—I need a minute."
But she wasn't fine. She spent her entire shift in a daze, mechanically scanning items, forcing smiles at customers who asked if she was alright. The neighborhood aunties who came through her line noticed immediately.
"What's wrong, sweet girl?"
"Who made you cry?"
"Was it those city women? We saw them asking about you—"
Nana couldn't answer. Just shook her head and kept working, kept moving, because if she stopped, she'd completely fall apart.
When her shift ended, she walked home in a fog. Her siblings greeted her enthusiastically, but she barely managed responses. She went straight to her room—the tiny space she shared with Meimei—and curled up on her bed.
"Nana?" Meimei sat beside her. "What happened? You look—"
"I'm fine." The automatic response. The lie she'd been telling for years.
"You're crying."
"I'm fine," she repeated, but her voice broke.
Meimei didn't push. Just lay down beside her sister, offering silent support the way they'd done for each other for years.
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The twins found out first. They'd been at the supermarket picking up groceries when Auntie Chen mentioned the "two fancy city women" who'd made Nana cry.
Being thirteen and fiercely protective of their sister, they immediately investigated, piecing together what had happened.
And being thirteen and incapable of keeping secrets from people they trusted, they called Zayne.
"Dr. Li?" one twin said when he answered.
"It's—um—it's Nana's sister. The twin. We need to tell you something."
Zayne's voice immediately sharpened with concern. "What's wrong? Is Nana hurt?"
"Not hurt, but—your mom came. And that Melissa lady. They talked to Nana at work and she's been crying all night and she locked herself in our room and won't eat and—"
"What?" His voice went cold. "My mother went there? To the village?"
"Yeah,Auntie Chen saw them. Said they were all dressed fancy and talking to Nana in the break room. Then Nana came out crying and wouldn't stop crying all day and now she won't talk to any of us and—"
"I'm coming." The sound of movement, of things being grabbed.
"I'm getting on the next flight. Tell her—tell her I'm coming. Tell her not to listen to whatever they said. Tell her—"
"We tried! She won't open the door!"
Zayne made a sound of pure frustration. "Keep trying. I'll be there as soon as I can. And—thank you. For telling me. For taking care of her."
"She's our sister," the twin said simply.
"Of course we take care of her."
Zayne's phone buzzed. A text from Nana:
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't do this. I can't be what you need. I'm not enough. I'll never be enough. I'm so sorry.
His heart stopped.
He called immediately. It rang and rang. No answer.
He texted back:
Nana, please. Please answer. Whatever they said is a lie. Please don't do this. Please.
Nothing.
He called again. Again. Again.
Finally, on the seventh try, she answered.
Her voice was wrecked, barely recognizable.
"I can't," she whispered. "I can't be what you need. I'll just—I'll just hold you back. Ruin your career. Make you resent me. I can't do that to you. I love you too much to—to be your mistake."
"You're not a mistake—"
"I have nothing to offer you!" Her voice cracked. "Nothing! Your mother asked what I could give you and I—I couldn't answer. Because there's nothing. No education, no career, no sophistication. Just me. And I'm not enough. I'll never be enough for someone like you—"
"Stop." His voice was fierce. "Stop saying that. You're everything—"
"I'm a supermarket cashier who barely finished high school!" She was crying openly now. "You're a brilliant surgeon! How can—how can those two things ever work? How can I stand beside you at conferences and dinners when I don't even understand what you do? How can I be your partner when I'm so far beneath you?"
"You're not beneath me—"
"Your mother is right. Melissa is right. I'll be your burden. Your embarrassment. The mistake you made during grief. And I can't—I won't do that to you. I love you too much."
"Nana please—"
"I'm sorry, Zayne. I'm so sorry. But I can't—I have to let you go. For your sake. Goodbye."
She hung up.
He called back immediately. Blocked.
He tried texting. Nothing went through.
Panic clawed at his throat. He looked at his calendar—full of surgeries, meetings, obligations. Things that suddenly meant nothing compared to the woman falling apart in a village three hours away.
He called his assistant. "Cancel everything for the next three days. I don't care what it is. Cancel it. It's an emergency."
Then he was moving—throwing clothes in a bag, booking the next flight, his heart racing with fear and fury.
His mother had gone to her. Had said god-knows-what. Had destroyed Nana's confidence, her hope, everything they'd built together.
And Mellisa. smiling, perfect Melissa, who'd probably twisted the knife with false sympathy.
He wanted to scream. Wanted to break something. Wanted to rage at the universe for putting the woman he loved through more pain when she'd already survived so much.
But rage could wait.
Right now, he needed to get to her.
Before she convinced herself that her love wasn't enough.
Before she let his mother's poison take root.
Before he lost the best thing that had ever happened to him.
Hold on, he thought desperately. Please, Nana. Hold on. I'm coming.
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To be continued __