The village looked exactly the same—which was comforting in a way the constantly changing city never was. Same rice fields stretching to the horizon. Same narrow streets. Same gentle pace of life where people actually stopped to talk instead of rushing past each other.
Zayne had taken a full week off from the hospital—something unprecedented, according to his shocked colleagues.
"A honeymoon," he'd explained simply, ignoring their disbelief that the workaholic Dr. Li was actually taking vacation time.
The moment their car pulled up to the village center, chaos erupted.
"THEY'RE HERE!"
"THE NEWLYWEDS!"
"NANA! DOCTOR LI!"
What seemed like the entire neighborhood descended on them—aunties with tears streaming down their faces, uncles grinning and offering congratulations, children running and shrieking with excitement.
"Let me see the ring!" Auntie Chen grabbed Nana's hand, inspecting the platinum band. "Beautiful! Perfect! So romantic!"
"When are you giving us babies?" another auntie asked boldly, making Nana's face flame red.
"We just got married—" Nana started.
"Exactly! Perfect time to start! You're young and healthy! Doctor Li—" The auntie turned to Zayne with complete seriousness.
"You're a doctor. You know biology. Get to work!"
"AUNTIE!" Nana wanted to die.
Zayne just laughed—actual laughter, the kind that made his colleagues back at the hospital do double-takes when they heard it.
"We'll work on it," he said, earning scandalized gasps and delighted cackles from the aunties.
"ZAYNE!" Lili's shriek cut through the crowd.She launched herself at him like a rocket, and he caught her easily, spinning her around while she giggled.
"You came back! You came back!"
"Of course I came back," he said, settling her on his hip. "We're family now. Family always comes back."
"Are you gonna stay forever this time?"
"Just a week. But I'll visit more often.
I promise."
"Good!" She wrapped her small arms around his neck. "I missed you. Mama missed you too. Everyone did."
The BBQ party started spontaneously—because of course it did. This was the village. Someone mentioned food, and suddenly tables were being set up, grills appearing, everyone contributing something until it became a full celebration.
Zayne insisted on helping with the grill, earning good-natured teasing from the uncles:
"City doctor knows how to grill?"
"Probably never seen charcoal before!"
"Let me show you how it's done, son—"
"I've got it," Zayne said, actually enjoying the ribbing. This was what family felt like—being teased, being included, being one of them instead of separate.
Nana was in the kitchen with the aunties and her sisters, cutting mushrooms and vegetables, making orange juice from scratch, laughing at stories about village gossip she'd missed.Auntie Chen said, lowering her voice conspiratorially.
"So? Doctor Li's cousin. The artist one. Rafayel. Is he single?"
Nana nearly dropped her knife. "I—I think so?"
"Good! My daughter just graduated university. She's beautiful, smart, artistic—"
"She's relentless," Meimei whispered to Nana, grinning. "She's been trying to match her daughter since the engagement party."
"Does Doctor Li have more cousins?" another auntie asked. "Because I have TWO daughters—"
"And a niece!" a third added. "Very pretty niece!"
"Why are all the handsome men in the city?" someone complained. "We need more good-looking single men in the village!"
Nana wished the ground would swallow her whole. Especially when the questions got bolder:
"Does Doctor Li have stamina? You know—" meaningful eyebrow waggle "—doctor stamina?"
"AUNTIE!"
"What?! I'm just asking! You want babies, you need stamina!"
"Is he gentle? He looks gentle—"
"But strong! Doctors need strong hands—"
"Please stop talking," Nana begged, face burning. "Please. I'm begging you."
The aunties just cackled, delighted by her embarrassment, and continued their speculation while Nana tried to disappear into the mushrooms.
The party lasted well into the evening. Food appeared in abundance—grilled meat, fresh vegetables, rice dishes, desserts that various aunties had made. Everyone ate and laughed and told stories, welcoming the newlyweds home.
Later, much later, after everyone had finally gone home and the village had settled into quiet, Zayne and Nana walked hand-in-hand through the rural streets toward Grandpa Li's old house.
Zayne had brought his medical journal—some habits died hard—and was reading by lamplight while Nana sat beside him on the porch.
And that's when he discovered something new about his wife.
She was sulking.
Actually sulking—lower lip pushed out in a tiny pout, glancing at him with big, pleading eyes, clearly wanting attention but not asking for it directly.
"Nana?" He looked up from his journal. "You okay?"
She huffed quietly and looked away, still pouting.
Zayne blinked. He'd never seen this side of her before. Usually she was composed, responsible, the caretaker, the strong older sister. But this—
This was adorable.
"Are you—" He tried not to smile. "Are you pouting because I'm reading instead of paying attention to you?"
Another huff. She wouldn't look at him.
"You are." He set down his journal immediately, giving her his full attention.
"I'm sorry. I'm here. What's wrong?"
She shifted closer, still not quite meeting his eyes, and when he opened his arms, she dove into his chest with a small, satisfied sound—nuzzling against him like a cat seeking warmth.
"Oh my god," Zayne said, wonder in his voice. "You're clingy."
"I'm not," she mumbled against his shirt.
"You absolutely are. You're clingy and pouty and—" He tilted her face up, taking in the expression that was trying very hard to look annoyed but mostly just looked cute. "—adorable. Why haven't I seen this before?"
"Because I can't be like this at home," she admitted quietly. "My siblings need me to be strong. Responsible. The older sister who has everything together. I can't—I can't be needy or clingy or ask for attention because they need me to be the stable one."
Something in Zayne's chest tightened. "But you want to be. Sometimes."
"Sometimes," she admitted. "With you. Because you—you make me feel safe enough to be needy. To ask for attention. To just—to just be me. The me who wants to cuddle and pout and be silly."
"Then be that with me," he said firmly.
"Always. I want all of you. The strong, responsible side. And this—" He booped her nose gently, making her scrunch it up adorably. "—this clingy, pouty side that's just
For me "
She smiled, bright and beautiful, and snuggled closer. "Okay. Then I want to go shopping tomorrow. At the traditional market. Not the fancy city markets—the real village market where you have to bargain and push through crowds and try weird food from street vendors."
"Okay."
"You have to try everything I tell you to try."
"Okay."
"Even if it looks weird."
"I trust your judgment."
"And you have to hold my hand the whole time so we don't get separated."
"I was planning on that anyway." He kissed her forehead. "What else?"
She launched into an excited chatter about all the things they'd do this week—visiting her old school, walking through the rice fields, climbing her favorite trees, introducing him to people who'd known her as a child, showing him all the places that made her who she was.
Zayne listened to every word, watching her face light up with each idea, seeing this side of her that was playful and excited and completely unselfconscious.
His smile was sad and beautiful at the same time.
Sad, because she'd had to hide this part of herself for so long, always being the strong one, never allowed to be weak or needy or just a girl who wanted attention.
Beautiful, because she felt safe enough with him to finally let this side out. To be clingy and pouty and ask for what she wanted instead of always putting others first.
He hugged her tighter, pressing kisses to the top of her head while she continued planning their adventures, her voice bright with excitement.
"And there's this store that sells the best steamed buns—you have to try them—and oh! The temple on the hill has the prettiest view at sunset—we should go there—and there's this old man who makes traditional candy, he's been doing it for fifty years—"
"We do all of it," Zayne promised. "Everything you want. This whole week is yours."
She tilted her face up, eyes shining. "Really? Even though you probably want to rest and read medical journals?"
"I can read medical journals anytime." He cupped her face gently. "But I only have one honeymoon with you. One week to see your world through your eyes. To experience everything that made you who you are. I'm not wasting a second of that."
She tugging at his shirt to kiss him—soft and sweet and full of love—and whispered against his lips: "Thank you. For letting me be clingy. For not making me be strong all the time. For—for just accepting all of me."
"Always," he promised. "Every side of you. Every moment. I love all of it."
She settled back against his chest with a contented sigh, and they sat together in the quiet village night, planning adventures and dreams and all the small, precious moments that made a marriage more than just a legal contract.
He ran his fingers through her hair absently while she talked, marveling at how someone so small could contain so much—strength and vulnerability, responsibility and playfulness, independence and neediness.
She was everything at once, and he loved every contradiction.
"Zayne?" she said eventually, voice going shy.
"Mm?"
"Can we—can we try? For a baby? Not right now, but—but soon? Maybe?"
His hand stilled. "You want that? You're ready?"
"I think so. I mean—" She shifted to look at him. "I want to finish my degree first. And establish my art career a bit. But—but yes. Someday soon. I want to give them everything we didn't have. And I want—" Her voice went soft. "I want to see you as a father. To watch you be the dad you deserved but never had."
His eyes burned with emotion. "I want that too. So much. But only when you're ready. No pressure. No rushing. On your timeline."
"Our timeline," she corrected. "We do this together. All of it. Forever."
"Forever," he agreed.
They sat together under the stars—stars you could actually see in the village, unlike the light-polluted city—and talked about everything and nothing until Nana started yawning.
"Bed," Zayne declared, standing and pulling her up with him.
"But I'm not done planning—"
"You can plan more tomorrow. Right now, my clingy wife needs sleep."
She pouted but let him lead her inside, and as they settled into bed in Grandpa Li's old house—now Zayne's house, technically, though it would always feel like Grandpa's—she curled into him like she'd been doing it forever.
"Zayne " she mumbled, already half-asleep.
"Mm?"
"I'm really happy. Like—the kind of happy I didn't know was possible. Thank you. For—for everything."
"Thank you," he whispered back, holding her close. "For teaching me what happiness even is. For showing me that I deserved it. For being exactly who you are—all of who you are—and letting me love every part of it."
She was asleep before he finished, breathing deep and peaceful, safe in his arms.
And Zayne lay awake a little longer, looking at her in the moonlight streaming through the window, thinking about the impossible journey that had brought them here.
From strangers bound by a dying wish to this—lying in bed in a village house, his wife curled against him, planning adventures and babies and a future so bright it almost hurt to look at.
Somehow Grandpa Li had known.
that stubborn old man had known that these two broken people would be exactly what each other needed. That they'd heal together, grow together, build something beautiful from their shared wounds.
"Thank you," Zayne whispered to the universe, to Grandpa's spirit, to whatever force had brought them together. "Thank you for her. For this. For believing we deserved happiness when we couldn't believe it ourselves."
Outside, the village slept peacefully.
And inside, two people who'd found home in each other dreamed of apple trees and art studios and tiny hands and laughter and all the beautiful chaos of the life they'd build together.
One adventure at a time.
One moment of clingy snuggles at a time.
One day of choosing each other at a time.
Forever.
.
.
.
.
.
To be continued __