Zayne had arrived at midnight, driving straight to her house, waking the entire family.
He'd found her locked in her room, refusing to open the door even for him. It took her mother's gentle coaxing and Lili crying outside the door before Nana finally, finally let him in.
She looked destroyed. Eyes swollen, face pale, dressed in pajamas like she'd given up on existing. When she saw him, she'd started crying again.
"You shouldn't be here, you should be at work, you're going to regret this"
until he'd pulled her into his arms and held her while she broke apart all over again.
They'd talked through the night. Or rather, he'd talked and she'd cried and slowly, slowly began to believe him when he said his mother was wrong. That Melissa was wrong. That she wasn't a burden or a mistake or anything less than everything he needed.
But words, he realized, weren't enough.
She needed to see. To understand. To know with certainty that his world—the one she was so afraid of—wanted her too.three days later, when she'd finally stopped crying and started to believe maybe, just maybe, she was allowed to keep him—he'd made her a proposal.
"Come to Linkon. For a few days. Let me show you my world. Not through my mother's eyes or Melissa's judgment, but through mine. Let me show you what I see."
She'd been terrified. But she'd said yes.
Now standing in the airport—her first time flying, her first time leaving the countryside since her family's collapse—Nana gripped Zayne's hand like a lifeline.
"It's so big," she whispered, staring at the massive terminal, the crowds of people, the departure boards with destinations she'd only seen on maps.
"How do people not get lost?"
"Practice," Zayne said, squeezing her hand. "And very good signage. Come on. Our gate is this way."
The flight itself was a revelation. Nana pressed her face to the window during takeoff, gasping as the ground fell away, as the village became tiny patchwork squares, as they rose above the clouds into endless blue.
"We're flying," she breathed, wonder in her voice. "We're actually flying. Zayne, we're above the clouds!"
He watched her instead of the view, memorizing her joy, her awe, the way her face lit up like a child's. This was what his mother didn't understand. This capacity for wonder, for finding magic in ordinary things. For making him see the world fresh instead of with jaded cynicism.
When they landed in Linkon, Nana's wonder turned to overwhelm.
The city sprawled endlessly—skyscrapers reaching toward heaven just like Grandpa Li had described, glass and steel gleaming in the afternoon sun. The airport alone was three times the size of her entire village. The crowds were massive, everyone rushing, no one making eye contact, absorbed in phones and headphones and their own urgent destinations.
"It's—" She turned in a slow circle, trying to take it all in. "It's so much. So many people. So tall. Everything is so tall."
"Overwhelming?" Zayne asked gently, keeping her hand secure in his.She looked up at a skyscraper that seemed to pierce the clouds.
"But beautiful too. In a different way. Like—like the village is beautiful because of nature, but this is beautiful because of what humans built. Does that make sense?"
"Perfect sense." He guided her toward the exit. "Come on. Let me show you more."
They took the subway—another first for Nana. She marveled at the underground trains, the crowds efficiently boarding and exiting, the digital maps showing routes across the entire city.
"Everyone looks so serious," she observed quietly. "Like they're all carrying something heavy."
"They probably are," Zayne said.
"Jobs, deadlines, families to feed, dreams that feel too far away. The city is full of people chasing something."
"Were you chasing something? Before?"
He considered. "I was running. I didn't know what I was chasing or running from. Just... moving. Staying busy so I didn't have to feel anything."
"And now?"
"Now I'm not running anymore." He looked at her. "Now I have something worth staying still for."
She blushed, ducking her head, but he saw her smile.
Zayne took her to his hospital first. Not inside—he wasn't ready to subject her to that yet—but outside, showing her the massive complex, the research wings, the emergency entrance where ambulances rushed in constantly.
"This is where you work?" She craned her neck to see the top floors. "It's like a small city itself."
"Twelve hundred beds. Four thousand staff. About six thousand patients pass through every week." He pointed to different sections. "Emergency, surgery, research, outpatient clinics. I work mostly in the cardiac wing—that's the east building."
"It's intimidating," she admitted. "All those people depending on doctors like you. All that responsibility."
"It is. But it's also—" He paused, searching for words. "It's purposeful. Every day, I help people live longer, healthier lives. That matters."
"You save people," Nana said softly. "Like you saved me."
"You saved yourself. I just—I just held you while you found your strength again."
They drove through the city, Zayne pointing out landmarks—the university where he'd studied, the restaurant where he'd celebrated his first successful solo surgery, the park where he sometimes went when the hospital became too much.
"And this—" He pulled up to a modern apartment complex, all glass and sleek lines. "This is where I live."
Nana stared up at the building. "It's so fancy. Like something from a movie."
"It's cold," Zayne corrected. "Convenient, but cold. Come on. I want you to see."
His apartment was exactly as she'd imagined—beautiful, minimalist, impersonal. Like a hotel room, not a home. Everything was in shades of gray and white, perfectly organized, completely sterile.
"You don't have photos," she observed, walking slowly through the space.
"Or plants. Or—or anything that shows someone actually lives here."
"I know." He watched her explore.
"It's functional. That's all I needed before. Somewhere to sleep between shifts."
"It's lonely," she said quietly. "Beautiful but lonely. Like—like you were lonely."
"I was. I am, when I'm here without you."
He came to stand beside her by the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
"That's what I wanted you to see, Nana. My world looks impressive from the outside—the hospital, the apartment, the success. But it's empty. It's crowded with people but completely lonely. Nobody here knows me. Not really. They know Dr. Li, the surgeon, the award winner. But not Zayne. Not the person."
She turned to look at him. "That sounds exhausting."
"It was. It is." He took her hands. "That's what my mother doesn't understand. That's what Melissa represents—more of the same. More success, more achievement, more impressive credentials. But no warmth. No home. No one asking if I ate or noticing when I'm tired or caring about me beyond what I can accomplish."
"Is that—" She hesitated. "Is that what you want? What I give you?"
"It's everything I want." His voice was fierce. "You see me, Nana. You make soup because you know I'm tired. You text to make sure I'm safe. You worry when I work too hard. You make me laugh. You make me feel human instead of just functional."
He squeezed her hands. "That's worth more than all the prestigious credentials in the world."
Her eyes filled with tears, but she was smiling.
They spent the afternoon exploring.
Zayne took her to a café—her first time in a place like this, all artistic plating and specialty coffees. She stared at the menu with wide eyes.
"There are fifteen types of coffee," she whispered. "How do people choose?"
"Trial and error, mostly." He smiled. "What sounds good?"
"I don't know. I've only had instant coffee from the supermarket." She bit her lip. "What do you usually get?"
"Americano. Black, no sugar. Efficient."
She wrinkled her nose. "That sounds awful."
He laughed—actually laughed, drawing looks from nearby tables. "It is. Try a cappuccino. It's sweeter."
She order that along with macarons that made her gasp—"They're so pretty! Like little art pieces! I've only seen these in dramas!"
She photographed everything with her phone, wanting to show her siblings, marveling at the presentation.
"In the village, food is just food,"
she said, carefully biting into a lavender macaron.
"But here, it's—it's an experience. Everything is so beautiful."
"Do you like it?" Zayne asked, watching her more than the food.
"It's wonderful. But—" She paused.
"It's also a little lonely? Everyone here is on their phones. No one's talking to each other. Back home, we talk. We share. Even in the supermarket, people chat about their day. Here, everyone just—exists separately."
"Exactly right." Zayne's voice was soft. "That's what I wanted you to see. The city has so much to offer—art, culture, opportunity. But it's missing something essential. Community. Connection. The things your village has in abundance."
Around them, Zayne was starting to draw attention. A group of young women at the next table were whispering, phones out, clearly recognizing him. One worked up the courage to approach.
"Dr. Li? I'm so sorry to interrupt, but—could we take a photo? I follow your research and—"
"Not today," Zayne said politely but firmly, his hand finding Nana's across the table.
"I'm with someone."
The woman's eyes flicked to Nana—assessing, judging, clearly wondering who this plain girl in simple clothes was. But Zayne's expression was clear: I'm not available. Not for photos, not for attention, not for anything that takes me away from her.
After the woman left, Nana squeezed his hand. "Do that happen often? People recognizing you?"
"Sometimes. Medical community stuff, occasionally news coverage of research breakthroughs." He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. They don't know me. They know a version of me."
"And I know the real version?"
"You know the only version that matters.
" He raised their joined hands, pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "The version that climbs trees to escape swans and eats potato-chicken drawings and falls asleep during phone calls because he feels safe with you."
She laughed, blushing. "That's a very specific version."
"It's my favorite version. The one I only am with you."
As the evening fell, they walked through a city park—manicured, organized, nothing like the wild spaces around her village. Children flew drones, complicated devices with cameras attached, so different from the simple kites village kids flew.
"Technology," Nana observed. "Everything here is about technology. Even playing."
"Do you think that's bad?"
"Not bad. Just—different. My siblings play in rivers and climb trees and chase butterflies. These kids play with computers. Neither is wrong. Just different kinds of childhood."
She sat on a bench, and Zayne sat beside her, his arm automatically draping around her shoulders. She leaned into him, comfortable now after days of slowly rebuilding what his mother had tried to destroy.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "For bringing me here. For showing me your world. I think I understand better now."
"Understand what?"
"Why you like my world. Why you visit the village even though it's simple and small and has nothing impressive to offer." She looked up at him.
"Because your world has everything except what matters most. It has success but not happiness. Achievement but not peace. Opportunity but not home."
"Exactly." He tightened his arm around her.
"My mother asked what you could offer me. She meant education, connections, career advancement. She didn't understand that what you offer is infinitely more valuable—you offer me a life worth living. A home worth returning to. A reason to be more than just my job."
"But Melissa could give you—
"could give me a perfectly suitable marriage that would look great on paper and feel empty every single day." His voice was firm. "I don't want suitable. I don't want impressive credentials and perfect dinner party conversation. I want you. Your laughter. Your siblings. Your village that gossips but cares. Your cooking that tastes like love. Your ability to find joy in macarons and wonder in airplane windows."
Nana's eyes filled with tears. "But what if I embarrass you? What if I say the wrong thing at some fancy event or don't understand what people are talking about—
"I'll explain it later. And if anyone makes you feel less-than, we leave. Simple as that."
He tilted her chin up. "Nana, listen to me. I don't need a partner who can discuss cardiac research. I need a partner who notices when I'm tired. I don't need someone who can network at medical conferences. I need someone who texts me to make sure I ate dinner. I don't need impressive. I need real. And you're the most real thing in my entire life."
"You really mean that?" Her voice was small, uncertain.
"I really mean that." He leaned closer to kiss her forehead gently . "You are enough. You've always been enough. My mother is wrong. Melissa is wrong. Anyone who makes you feel inferior is wrong. Because you're not less than anyone—you're exactly what I need, exactly when I needed it most."
"Okay" she whispered. "I believe you. I believe you choose me."
"Every time," he promised. "Every single time."
They sat in the park as the city lights came on, painting the world in gold and silver. Around them, people rushed past, absorbed in their own lives, never seeing the two people on the bench rewriting their story.
And Nana understood finally what Zayne had been trying to show her:
His world was beautiful but lonely.
Her world was simple but full.
Together, they could build something new—taking the best of both, leaving the rest behind.
A world where success and love coexisted.
Where ambition and family balanced.
Where two people from completely different places could meet in the middle and call it home.
"Can I ask you something?" she said eventually.
"Anything."
"When you go back to work tomorrow—to that huge hospital with all those important people—will you still want this? Want me? Or will you look around and wonder what you were thinking, choosing someone so—"
"Nana." He turned her to face him fully.
"Tomorrow, I'll do surgery. I'll save lives. I'll be brilliant and professional and exactly what everyone expects. And then I'll come home, and I'll call you, and I'll tell you about the patient who cried with relief and the nurse who made a terrible joke and the moment I wished you were there to share with."
He cupped her face gently. "I will never stop wanting you. Not tomorrow, not ever. You're not separate from my success—you're the reason it means anything at all."
She nodded, finally, truly believing.
And somehow, Grandpa Li was smiling.
Because his two lonely children had finally stopped running from each other and started building toward something beautiful.
.
.
.
.
.
To be continued __