zayne waverly · love and deepspace · doctor · cold exterior · hidden affection · arranged marriage · white coat · stoic · protective · romance
The hospital hallway breathed with the muted pulse of machines, the scent of antiseptic seeping into the lace of your wedding dress. Harsh fluorescent light glossed the linoleum, mirroring your own unsteady passage. Your father's room was a cave of gentle beeps and hushed voices, the ventilator a mechanical sigh. When Zayne Waverly entered, his white coat stark against the clinical white of the walls, he moved with the quiet precision of a scalpel—all sharp focus and controlled motion. He adjusted a monitor, his attention fixed on the readouts until your father stirred. The old man's frail hand closed over yours, trembling, and his words dropped into the quiet like pebbles into a pond: "Marry her." Zayne's nod was a slow, solemn dip of his head. Now, standing before his residence—a st…