Zayne woke to the smell of something burning.
Not badly burning. Just... slightly crispy. The kind of burning that happened when someone very enthusiastic and very inexperienced tried to cook breakfast.
He smiled before even opening his eyes.
*Nana's cooking again.*
He found her in the kitchen, wearing one of his oversized shirts and her combat shorts, hair tied up in a messy bun, wielding a spatula like a weapon while multiple pans sizzled on the stove.
Fried rice. Egg rolls. Chicken nuggets. Fruit sliced into elaborate shapes—stars and hearts and what might have been attempted bunnies.
It was adorable.
"Good morning, wife," Zayne said, sliding up behind her to wrap his arms around her waist.
"Good morning, husband—HEY!" Nana swatted him with the spatula. "You're distracting me! I'm cooking!"
"I can see that. Very enthusiastically."
"I'm being a good wife! Wives cook breakfast! It's in the manual!"
"What manual—"
"The wife manual your mother gave me. It has recipes and everything." Nana gestured at a cookbook propped on the counter, splattered with oil and covered in sticky notes. "I'm learning."
Zayne kissed her cheek, then her neck, smiling against her skin. "You're doing great."
"Zayne—the eggs—"
"The eggs are fine."
"They're burning—"
"You're burning—"
"ZAYNE!" But she was laughing, leaning back into him even while trying to flip the egg rolls.
He helped her finish cooking—mostly by staying out of the way and catching things before they fell. By the time breakfast was ready, the kitchen looked like a war zone but the food was actually *edible*.
More than edible. It was good.
Zayne sat at the table while Nana served everything with excessive pride. "See? I can cook! I'm a proper wife now!"
"You were a proper wife before learning to cook," Zayne said, taking a bite of fried rice. "But this is delicious."
"Really?"
"Really. Though the nuggets are slightly—"
"Crispy?"
"Charcoal-adjacent."
"They're crispy." Nana ate one defiantly. "I like them this way."
Zayne laughed and ate his breakfast while his wife glowed with accomplishment.
After breakfast came the tie incident.
Nana had decided she wanted to help Zayne get ready for work. Be supportive. Do wife things like tying his tie.
Problem: Nana had never tied a tie before.
"How hard can it be?" she muttered, standing on her toes to reach his neck. "It's just fabric. I've tied knots hundreds of times. Rope. Wire. Bandages—"
"Those are different kinds of knots—"
"Shh. I'm concentrating."
She wrapped the tie around his neck with excessive confidence. Pulled. Twisted. Pulled again.
Zayne made a choking sound.
"Too tight?"
"Can't—breathe—"
"Oh! Sorry!" Nana loosened it immediately, then tried again. This time the knot was sideways. Then backwards. Then somehow inside-out.
"Nana—"
"I'VE GOT THIS."
Five minutes later, Zayne was sitting on the bed while Nana stood between his legs, tongue poking out in concentration, attempting a tie knot for the seventh time.
"You know I can do this myself," Zayne said, amused.
"But I want to help! Wives help their husbands get ready for work!"
"Wives also don't accidentally strangle their husbands."
"It was ONE TIME. Maybe two times. Okay three but who's counting—"
She finally got the knot right. Stepped back to admire her work. "There! Perfect!"
It was crooked. Very crooked. But Zayne didn't adjust it. Just smiled. "Perfect. Thank you, wife."
"You're welcome, husband."
She made his coffee next—too much sugar, not enough cream, but he drank it anyway because she'd made it with such determination.
Then she tackled him.
Literally. Full-force enhanced-strength tackle onto the bed, kissing him senseless while he laughed and protested that he had to get to work.
"Five more minutes," Nana demanded between kisses.
"I'm going to be late—"
"Don't care. Kissing my husband. It's in the manual."
"The manual does not say—"
"It's implied. Chapter three. 'Maintaining Marital Happiness.'"
Zayne gave up arguing and just kissed her back. Five minutes turned into ten. Then fifteen.
When he finally extracted himself, hair messed up and tie even more crooked, Nana was grinning triumphantly.
"You're a menace," he said fondly.
"You married me. Your fault."
He grabbed the lunchbox she'd prepared—cute container with carefully arranged food and a note that said "I LOVE YOU" in Nana's messy handwriting—and headed for the door.
Nana followed, already in her Hunter gear, motorcycle keys jingling.
Zayne bent down so she could kiss him properly. She was much shorter—barely reached his shoulder—but he made it work. Always made it work.
"Be safe today," he said against her lips.
"Always. You too."
"Try not to kick too many Wanderers."
"No promises."
He left for his car. She left for her motorcycle.
And Zayne watched with a mixture of fondness and horror as Nana zoomed past him on the street, going way too fast, with that ridiculous hamster smile on her face.
*She's going to give me a heart attack. I'm a cardiologist and my own wife is going to give me a heart attack.*
But he couldn't stop smiling. Because this was normal. This was life. This was everything they'd fought for.
Chaotic, dangerous, motorcycle-riding wife included.
.
.
.
.
.
The nurses no longer looked surprised when Nana came running through the halls at exactly 1200 hours every day.
"Dr. Li! Your wife is here!"
"Again!"
"She's very enthusiastic!"
Zayne barely had time to finish his patient notes before Nana burst through his office door, grabbed his hand, and dragged him to the hospital cafeteria.
"Nana, I can walk—"
"Too slow! Lunch time! I made extra food!"
She'd brought her own lunchbox too—matching his. Both filled with food she'd cooked that morning, arranged with excessive care.
They sat at their usual table while Nana talked at lightspeed about her patrol mission.
"—and then I did this backwards spin while shooting—like this—" She demonstrated with her hands, nearly knocking over her water. "And the Wanderer didn't even see it coming! And THEN I jumped and kicked it from above and Zayne it was SO COOL—"
"I'm sure it was," Zayne said, feeding her a bite of rice because she was talking too much to remember to eat.
"—and this other hunter said I was showing off but I wasn't showing off I was just being EFFICIENT and—"
"Nana, eat."
"I am eating!"
"You're talking. There's a difference."
She ate the rice he offered, still talking around it. "And then THREE more Wanderers appeared and I had to—"
Zayne wiped her face with a napkin. "You have sauce on your cheek."
"How did—never mind. Anyway, I kicked all three and—"
He reached over and pulled a small twig from her hair. Then a leaf. Then another twig.
"Were you fighting in a forest?"
"Maybe. There were trees. And I might have crashed through some bushes. Strategically."
"Strategically."
"Yes! Strategy! I'm very tactical!"
Zayne smiled, removing another leaf. "Very tactical. The twigs in your hair prove it."
"Stop making fun of me!"
"Never. It's my job as your husband."
She pouted but kept eating, kept talking, kept being Nana—chaotic and enthusiastic and completely unaware that every nurse in the cafeteria was watching them with fond amusement.
Dr. Li and his hyperactive hunter wife. The hospital's favorite couple.
Halfway through lunch, Nana winced slightly. Tiny movement. Barely noticeable.
Zayne noticed immediately. "You're hurt."
"I'm not—"
"Left shoulder. You favored it when you gestured. Show me."
"Zayne, it's nothing—"
"Nana."
She sighed and pulled down her jacket collar slightly. Small bruise. Purple-black. From Wanderer impact.
"See? Nothing. Just a bruise. I'm not that weak—"
Zayne was already applying pressure, checking for deeper damage. "Enhanced healing doesn't mean invincible. You could have internal bleeding. Muscle tears. Bone fractures—"
"I'm FINE. It's just a tiny bruise. You're overreacting—"
"I'm being thorough."
"You're being ridiculous."
"I'm being your husband. Let me take care of you."
Nana melted slightly at that. "Okay. Fine. Check my shoulder. But I'm telling you it's nothing."
It was nothing. Just surface bruising. But Zayne still applied antiseptic cream and wrapped it carefully, ignoring her protests.
"There. Better."
"You're such a worry-wart."
"You married a doctor. What did you expect?"
"I expected someone who would let me kick Wanderers in peace!"
"And I expected someone who would stop kicking Wanderers. We're both disappointed."
They ate the rest of lunch bickering affectionately while the nurses whispered about how cute they were.
After Nana left (with promises to be safe and stop crashing through bushes), Zayne returned to his office and sat in quiet contemplation.
Normal life. This was normal life.
Burnt breakfast and crooked ties and motorcycle races to work. Lunch dates where he removed forest debris from his wife's hair. Treating tiny bruises like they were major injuries.
It was perfect.
But lately, he'd been thinking about the future. About what came next.
They'd talked about it briefly—growing old together, getting boring, maybe getting cats. But there was something else. Something they hadn't discussed yet.
Kids.
Would they have children someday? Could they?
Nana was enhanced—Specimen 21 with genetic modifications from birth. He was enhanced too—Version 06 with forced enhancements. Would their biology even allow for normal reproduction?
And if they could have kids... what would they be like?
Calm like him? Or chaos like Nana?
Probably chaos. Definitely chaos.
He imagined a tiny version of Nana—fierce and stubborn and kicking things from age three. Teaching their child to fight before teaching them to read. Trying to cook them breakfast and accidentally burning down the kitchen.
He smiled.
*That would be perfect too. Chaotic and dangerous and full of love.*
But there was fear there too. Fear that their enhancements might affect a child. Fear that the specimen modifications might carry over. Fear that they'd create another weapon instead of a person.
*We'd love them anyway. Enhanced or not. Weapon or not. Just like our parents love us.*
His phone buzzed. Text from Nana:
Nana:forgot to tell you i love you*
Nana:I LOVE YOU*
Nana:also i might have kicked 2 more wanderers*
Nana:okay 5
Nana:OKAY 10 BUT THEY DESERVED IT
Zayne laughed and typed back:
Zayne:I love you too. And your legs are going to fall off from all that kicking.
Nana:worth it
Nana:see you tonight for dinner!
Nana:im cooking!
Zayne:Please don't burn down the kitchen.
Nana:NO PROMISES
He set down his phone, still smiling.
Normal life with Nana meant burnt food and excessive kicking and motorcycle near-death experiences.
And he wouldn't change a single thing.
Except maybe investing in a fire extinguisher.
Definitely investing in a fire extinguisher.
Day 107.
Living. Loving. Being normal.
Finally.
.
.
.
.
.
To be continued.