Nana checked her reflection for the tenth time, fidgeting with her hair.
It had grown longer over the past two months—past her shoulders now, the reddish-brown strands falling in soft waves instead of the practical short cut she'd maintained during the Linkon outbreak. She'd debated cutting it back to combat-length but Zayne had admitted he liked it longer.
So she kept it. Because she was stupidly in love and would do ridiculous things like grow her hair for a man who'd died six times for her.
The pink dress was new—soft, feminine, completely impractical for hunting. Sophia had insisted on taking her shopping, had picked out this specific dress with the declaration: *"You're allowed to look pretty, Nana. Not everything has to be tactical."*
But Nana was still Nana.
So she'd modified the dress to hide her dual guns strapped to her thighs. Combat boots instead of heels because she needed proper footwear to kick Wanderers just in case one appeared in the middle of her date.
*Practical femininity,* she told herself. *The best of both worlds.*
Her doorbell rang at exactly 1800 hours.
Zayne was always punctual. Doctor-precise about time, even for dates.
Nana practically bounced to the door, enhanced speed making her cross the apartment in half a second, and flung it open to find—
Heaven.
Zayne stood in the hallway looking like a model who'd stepped out of a magazine. Black suit, white shirt, tie perfectly knotted. His dark hair styled just messy enough to be attractive. Earring catching the light. Hazel eyes warm and loving and completely focused on her.
He held flowers—pink roses that matched her dress—a bag of macarons from her favorite bakery, and bubble tea with extra tapioca pearls because he knew she liked to chew them.
Nana's brain short-circuited.
"Hi," Zayne said, smiling that small, private smile he only gave her. "You look beautiful."
"You look like—like—" Nana gestured helplessly. "How are you real? How is this fair? I'm trying to be cute and you just—you just exist and it's not fair—"
She launched herself at him without thinking.
Full-force enhanced-strength tackle-hug that would have broken a normal person's ribs.
Zayne staggered backward, arms windmilling to keep the flowers and bubble tea from dropping, laughing as she wrapped herself around him like a koala.
"Nana—careful—the tea—"
"Don't care. Hugging you. You're too pretty. It's illegal."
"I don't think being attractive is a crime—"
"It should be. You're a public menace. Looking like that." She pulled back just enough to glare at him. "I'm going to have to fight off admirers all night."
Zayne's smile widened. "Good thing you're enhanced, then. You can take them."
"I absolutely will."
He kissed her forehead, careful not to spill the bubble tea. "Ready for our date?"
"Yes!" Nana grabbed the bubble tea and macarons, practically vibrating with excitement. "Where are we going?"
"It's a surprise."
"I hate surprises."
"No you don't. You love them."
"I love you. Surprises are stressful."
"Then it's a good thing I'm the surprise," Zayne said, offering his arm. "Shall we?"
Nana took his arm, grinning so wide her face hurt. "We shall."
.
.
.
.
.
The restaurant was fancy.
Like really fancy. The kind of place that had white tablecloths and candles and waiters who spoke in hushed, reverent tones about wine pairings.
Nana had dreamed about eating here when she was a Hunter in Linkon. Had walked past the windows dozens of times, watching couples enjoy romantic dinners, wondering what it would be like to be normal enough to sit inside.
And now she was here. With Zayne. Living the dream.
"This is—this is too much," she whispered as they were seated at a private table near the garden windows. "Zayne, this place is *expensive*—"
"I'm an award-winning cardiologist," Zayne said calmly, opening his menu. "I can afford to take my girlfriend to a nice restaurant."
"But—"
"Nana." He reached across the table and took her hand. "You survived hell. You deserve nice things. Let me give you nice things."
Her eyes filled with tears. "You're going to make me cry in this fancy restaurant."
"Please don't. The waiters will think I'm proposing and it'll ruin my actual plan."
Nana's brain screeched to a halt. "Wait—what?"
Zayne's expression didn't change. "What?"
"Did you just—did you say—"
"I have no idea what you're talking about. Would you like the pasta or the salmon?"
"ZAYNE—"
"The pasta looks excellent. You should get the pasta."
Nana stared at him suspiciously but he just smiled innocently and went back to reading the menu.
*He's planning something. Oh my god. He's actually planning something.*
She ordered the pasta in a daze, barely tasting the food when it arrived because her brain was too busy screaming *IS HE GOING TO PROPOSE? TONIGHT? IS THAT WHY WE'RE AT A FANCY RESTAURANT?*
Zayne watched her eat with undisguised affection, occasionally reaching across to wipe sauce from her chin when she got too enthusiastic.
And he kept taking pictures. Of her with her pasta. Of her drinking bubble tea. Of her stealing macarons from the bag he'd brought.
"You eat like a hungry hamster," he said fondly, snapping another photo.
"Hamsters are adorable and efficient," Nana mumbled around a mouthful of pasta. "I'm being adorable and efficient."
"You're being adorable and chaotic."
"Same thing."
Zayne laughed—genuine, delighted, *happy*—and Nana felt her heart swell so much it physically hurt.
*This is what normal feels like. This is what we fought for. This moment right here.*
After dinner, Zayne led her to the restaurant's garden.
It was beautiful—string lights overhead, flowers everywhere, a stone path winding through carefully manicured greenery. Private. Romantic. Perfect.
They walked hand in hand, Nana's combat boots crunching softly on the gravel while Zayne's dress shoes made almost no sound.
"This is nice," Nana said softly. "Thank you for tonight. For everything."
"You don't have to thank me—"
"I do. Because you didn't have to do any of this. Could have just ordered takeout and watched movies at home. But you—"
She gestured at the garden, the restaurant, the effort he'd put into making tonight special.
"You made it perfect."
Zayne stopped walking, turning to face her with an expression so tender it made her chest ache.
"You deserve perfect," he said simply. "You deserve—"
"Dr. Li?!"
They both turned to find a group of young women approaching—maybe mid-twenties, dressed for a night out, phones already raised.
"Oh my god, it is Dr. Li! The cardiologist from the trial! Can we—can we get a picture with you?"
Nana's aether core flared immediately.
Bright blue glow visible through her pink dress. Enhanced protective instinct activating because *these women were getting too close to her boyfriend and she did NOT approve*.
Zayne sighed. "Ladies, I'm on a date—"
"Just one picture! Please! You're a hero!"
The women pressed closer, completely ignoring Nana's existence, phones out and ready.
Nana's aether core burned brighter.
Her eyes started glowing faint green. Combat instincts rising. Enhanced strength ready to *defend what was hers*.
The women noticed.
Noticed the glow. Noticed the predatory focus in Nana's eyes. Noticed that Specimen 21 was approximately three seconds from kicking them across the garden.
They scattered like birds. Phones forgotten. Apologies stammered. Gone in seconds.
Zayne turned to Nana with his best doctor-disapproval expression. "Really?"
"What?" Nana's aether core dimmed back to normal levels. "I didn't even touch them."
"You glowed at them."
"They were touching you."
"They wanted a picture—"
"They can take pictures from a *distance*." Nana crossed her arms. "I'll propose to you right here in front of everyone. In the middle of the hospital. With Wanderers dancing in the background. I will make it the most chaotic proposal in history and everyone will know you're mine—"
Zayne kissed her.
Soft and sweet and completely derailing her jealous rant.
When he pulled back, he was smiling. "You'd really propose to me?"
"Yes. Obviously. You're stuck with me forever now."
"Forever," Zayne repeated softly. Then he pulled something from his pocket. "What a coincidence. Because I was planning to propose to you tonight."
Nana's brain stopped working.
Zayne knelt on one knee in the garden, string lights overhead, flowers everywhere, holding a small velvet box.
"Nana Wang," he said, voice steady despite his hands shaking slightly. "Specimen 21. S-class Hunter. The person who jumped into hell to save me. Who made me fall in love three times. Who survived everything and chose to keep fighting anyway."
He opened the box.
A silver ring with a small blue stone that glowed softly—matching her aether core perfectly.
"I don't have a long speech prepared. I don't have grand declarations. I just have the truth: I love you. I've loved you through death and memory loss and government hunts and nuclear strikes. I've loved you in Avalon and Linkon and Bloomshore. I'll love you wherever we go next."
His hazel eyes met hers—vulnerable, hopeful, terrified.
"Will you marry me?"
Nana was crying before she could stop herself.
Sobbing. Openly weeping in a fancy restaurant garden while Zayne knelt in front of her looking like a model and offering her forever.
"Yes," she choked out. "Yes. Obviously yes. How is that even a question—"
She pulled him up and kissed him desperately, tears streaming down her face, heart so full it felt like it might burst.
Zayne kissed back just as desperately, one hand cupping her face, the other still holding the ring box.
When they finally broke apart for air, he slipped the ring onto her finger with shaking hands.
Perfect fit. Because of course he'd secretly measured her finger weeks ago.
"It matches my aether core," Nana whispered, staring at the glowing blue stone.
"I wanted you to have something that represented all of you. Enhanced and human. Weapon and person. Specimen 21 and Nana." Zayne pressed his forehead to hers. "All of it. I want all of you. Forever."
Nana laughed through her tears. "You're stuck with a chaotic, jealous, weapon-enhanced girlfriend who kicks Wanderers and glows at people who touch you."
"Fiancée," Zayne corrected. "Chaotic, jealous, weapon-enhanced fiancée."
"Fiancée," Nana repeated, testing the word. It felt right. Perfect. Real.
They stood in the garden, wrapped in each other's arms, while string lights twinkled overhead and the world continued spinning around them.
Two enhanced individuals. Two survivors. Two people who'd fought through hell and chosen each other anyway.
Engaged.
Planning a future.
Building normal one impossible day at a time.
"We should call your parents," Nana said eventually. "They're going to want to know."
"Mom's probably already planning the wedding," Zayne said, smiling. "She's been asking me when I was going to propose for weeks."
"Everyone knew except me?!"
"I wanted it to be a surprise."
"I hate surprises!"
"No you don't. You love them."
Nana kissed him again just to prove a point—that she loved *him*, surprises or not, enhanced or not, forever or not.
Day 60.
Engaged.
Happy.
Home.
.
.
.
.
.
To be continued.