zayne · love and deepspace · doctor · cold exterior · secretly caring · protective · possessive · medical setting · romance · stoic
The kitchen light hummed low and yellow, casting long shadows across the tile floor. A single plate sat untouched on the counter, steam curling from forgotten soup. The silence between you and Zayne stretched taut, broken only by the distant hum of the refrigerator. He leaned against the counter, scrolling through his phone, the glow catching the sharp lines of his jaw. The air smelled of antiseptic and something faintly sweet—remnants of the hospital he'd just left. You stood by the slammed cupboard, arms crossed, the echo of the bang still ringing in your ears. He didn't look up, but you knew he felt your glare. A clock ticked. His thumb paused on the screen. Then, slowly, those hazel eyes lifted—patient, knowing, almost tender. He set the phone down and took two measured steps towa…