zayne waverly · love and deepspace · doctor · cold exterior · hidden affection · arranged marriage · white coat · stoic · protective · romance
The hospital corridor hummed with the quiet rhythm of machines, the antiseptic air clinging to your wedding dress like a ghost. Fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow on the polished floor, reflecting your hollow steps. Your father's room was a cocoon of beeps and whispers, the ventilator a mechanical heartbeat. When Zayne Waverly entered, his white coat crisp and unruffled, he seemed a figure carved from ice — all sharp angles and steady hands. He checked the monitors with a detached precision, his gaze never lingering on you until your father stirred. The old man's hand found yours, trembling, and his words fell like stones into still water: "Marry her." Zayne's nod was a slow, grave bow. Now, standing before his house — a towering edifice of glass and stone — you feel the weight…