Steam filled the bathroom as they showered together—a morning ritual Zayne had initially resisted but now secretly loved.
Nana was pressed against his chest, nuzzling like a baby hamster seeking warmth.
* She's doing it again. The nuzzling. Like I'm a heating pad. Or a very tall teddy bear.*
"You're so warm," she mumbled against his chest.
"You're the warm one. I'm literally made of ice."
"But you're MY warm ice!"
* Warm ice. Oxymoron. But somehow accurate description of our relationship.*
He shampooed her hair carefully, methodical as always, while she just... existed against him. Content. Peaceful.
*These are the moments I treasure most. Not the chaos. Just... this. Her trusting me completely. Being soft with me.*
A moment later.
Zayne stood at the stove, making pancakes.
Behind him, Nana wrapped her arms around his waist, chin resting on his back.
"You look so handsome cooking," she announced. "Like a chef! A doctor chef! A doctor-chef husband!"
*Doctor-chef husband. My official title apparently.*
"I'm just making pancakes, hamster."
"But you look HANDSOME doing it!"
*She compliments everything. Breathing. Standing. Existing. My ego has never been so inflated and simultaneously embarrassed.*
He flipped a pancake one-handed, the other arm accommodating her koala attachment.
She reached around him, trying to steal a finished pancake from the plate.
He swatted her hand playfully with the spatula. "Wait until they're done."
"But I'm HUNGRY!"
"You're always hungry."
She tried AGAIN, faster this time.
SWAT.
She GIGGLED, dodging, then went for it AGAIN—
SWAT.
This became a game. Her trying to steal pancakes. Him blocking with the spatula. Both laughing.
*This is domestic bliss. Spatula warfare over breakfast. I'm happy. This is concerning.*
Finally, he finished cooking, turned around, and pecked her lips quickly.
She BEAMED. "Good morning kiss!"
"You got ten kisses in the shower."
"That was SHOWER kisses! This is KITCHEN kiss! Different category!"
* She's categorizing kisses by location. This is. Actually adorable.*
He let her steal a pancake finally. She munched happily, syrup on her chin.
*Messy eater. Always. Forever.*
He wiped her chin with his thumb, and she grinned at him with those big eyes.
* I would do anything for this woman. Anything.*
They'd returned to bed after breakfast—his day off, her classes were online today, so they had TIME.
A rare luxury.
Nana curled beside him, his arm around her, fingers stroking her cheek gently. She leaned into the touch like a cat seeking affection.
Then she puckered her lips, eyes closed, waiting.
*Kiss request. Wordless but clear. She's trained me well.*
He pressed his lips to hers, soft and sweet, smiling against her mouth.
When he pulled back, she was grinning. But then her expression shifted—thoughtful, almost sad.
"Zayne?"
"Mm?"
"What if... what if someday I die earlier than you?" Her voice was small. "Would you... would you remarry?"
...
*She's asking. She doesn't know. She doesn't REMEMBER. In every lifetime before this, she died. And I waited. Always waited. For her to be reborn. To find her again. To love her again.*
*I've never married anyone else. Never even looked at anyone else. Across hundreds of years, thousands of timelines—only her. Always her.*
He went completely still.
Then he pulled her on top of him, hands cupping her face, making her meet his eyes.
"No," he said firmly. "Never."
"But—"
"Never," he repeated, more intense. "How could I marry another woman? There's only you. There's only ever BEEN you."
*Truth. Across every timeline. Every lifetime. Every version of reality. Only you.*
Her eyes welled up. "But what if you get lonely—"
"Then I'll be lonely. But I'll be loyal." His thumbs stroked her cheeks. "I'm not that easy to fall in love with someone, Nana. There's only one person who's ever succeeded in capturing my heart."
"Who?" she whispered, though she knew.
"You. Only you."
*In the Tower of Thorns. In the Snow's Embrace. In every myth, every legend, every whispered prophecy—it's always been you. My jasmine. My spring. My only love.*
She HUGGED him suddenly, fiercely, face buried in his neck.
"I'm afraid," she whispered. "Afraid that someday you'll get bored. Or tired. Tired of having a disaster wife. A chaos wife who breaks things and rides bicycles in hospitals and brings squirrels everywhere—"
"Nana." He lifted her face, making her look at him. "I love you BECAUSE you're a disaster. You make every day wonderful. Unpredictable. Alive."
*You make my frozen heart beat. You turn winter into spring. You're the only thing that's ever made the endless cold bearable.*
"But I break everything—"
"And I'll fix everything. Or buy new things. I don't care."
"I can't cook—"
"I'll cook for both of us. Forever."
"I say embarrassing things in public—"
"And I'll be embarrassed with you. Proudly."
*I would be embarrassed in front of the entire world if it meant keeping you. This is not hyperbole. This is fact.*
She sniffled, wiping tears. "You promise?"
Instead of answering with words, he concentrated, creating an ice jasmine flower—the most perfect one yet, every petal detailed, crystalline and eternal.
He placed it in her palm carefully.
"This is my promise," he said quietly. "Across every lifetime, every timeline, every version of fate—you're mine. And I'm yours. Nothing changes that. Not death. Not time. Not anything."
* I've given you jasmines before. In other lives. Other times. You never remembered. But I did. I always remembered. And I always came back. Always found you. Always loved you.*
She stared at the flower, tears falling. "It's so beautiful..."
"Like you."
She looked up at him, eyes still wet, then smiled mischievously. "Prove it."
...
*She wants proof. Physical proof. This woman. This WOMAN.*
"Prove it?" he repeated slowly.
"Prove you love me!" She wiggled on top of him. "With actions! Not just words!"
* She's demanding sex as proof of love. This is. Actually very her. Very us.*
He smirked—that rare, dangerous expression that made her breath catch.
"As you wish, Mrs. Li."
---
He flipped them over smoothly, hovering above her, hands on either side of her head.
"How would you like me to prove it?" His voice had dropped lower, clinical mask replaced with something warmer, hungrier.
"Um..." She hadn't thought this far ahead. "Just... prove it?"
*Excellent communication. Very specific. Classic Nana.*
He kissed her, slow and deep, tongue exploring her mouth thoroughly. Taking his time. Savoring.
When he pulled back, she was flushed and breathing hard.
"Is that proof enough?"
"More proof," she demanded breathlessly.
* Greedy. My greedy little wife.*
His lips moved to her neck, kissing, sucking, leaving marks. His hands worked her pajamas off carefully, exposing skin inch by inch.
"Still not enough?" he murmured against her collarbone.
"More!"
He continued down—kissing her breasts, her stomach, her hip bones. Taking his time. Worshipping.
* I could spend eternity doing this. Learning every inch of her. Memorizing every sound she makes. Every place that makes her gasp.*
When his mouth finally reached between her legs, she YELPED.
"Zayne!"
"Proving it," he said simply, then dove in.
His tongue worked her with clinical precision—knowing exactly where to lick, where to suck, where to apply pressure. Years of surgical training applied to making his wife fall apart.
*Best use of medical education ever. Forget cardiac surgery. This is my greatest achievement.*
She was WHIMPERING, hands in his hair, thighs trembling.
"Please," she gasped. "Please I need—"
"Need what?" He looked up, chin glistening. "Use your words, hamster."
"Need sunflower! Inside! Please!"
* She's begging. My innocent wife is begging for penetration using our ridiculous terminology. This is perfect.*
He moved up her body, positioning himself between her legs. "Slowly?"
"NO! Fast! Hard!"
*She wants hard. She WANTS hard. Character development. My sweet wife has learned what she likes.*
"If you're sure—"
"I'M SURE! MOVE ALREADY!"
He entered her in one smooth thrust, and they both GROANED.
*Tight. Warm. Perfect. Home.*
"So deep," she whimpered, nails digging into his shoulders.
"So tight," he countered, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in.
She WHINED. "Faster! You promised to prove it!"
* Using my promises against me. Strategic.*
He gave her what she wanted—faster, harder, each thrust deep and purposeful. The bed creaked ominously but he didn't care.
"Why—" she gasped between thrusts, "—why does sunflower feel SO GOOD?"
* She's asking anatomical questions DURING SEX. Of course she is.*
"Because—" he groaned, adjusting the angle, "—the vaginal canal has—concentrated nerve endings—especially here—" he hit a particular spot that made her cry out, "—the anterior wall—commonly known as—the G-spot—"
"OH GOD THERE!"
"Precisely—" another thrust, "—that location—"
*I'm lecturing about anatomy while actively demonstrating. This is peak me. Peak us.*
"Don't STOP talking!" she gasped.
*She likes the clinical dirty talk. She LIKES it. My wife has a doctor kink. I've created this. I'm so proud.*
"The stimulation—" thrust, "—causes increased blood flow—" thrust, "—to the pelvic region—" thrust, "—resulting in pleasurable sensations—"
"MORE!"
He increased his pace, one hand slipping between them to find her clit.
"Additional stimulation—" he circled it precisely, "—of the clitoris—increases likelihood—of orgasm—by approximately—300 percent—"
"ZAYNE!" She was close, so close.
"Come for me," he commanded, voice breaking from clinical into raw need. "Let me feel you—"
She SHATTERED, crying his name, clenching around him in waves.
The sensation dragged him over the edge. He thrust deep one final time and came with a groan, spilling inside her.
They stayed locked together, panting, sweaty, perfect.
* This is love. This is proof. This is everything.*
"Did I prove it?" he asked breathlessly, still inside her.
"Yes," she giggled. "Very thoroughly proven. With citations. And demonstrations."
*She's making academic jokes about our sex life. I love her so much it physically hurts.*
He kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips. "Good. Because I meant every word. Every promise. Every lifetime."
"Every lifetime?" she repeated curiously.
*She caught that. Perceptive even in post-orgasm haze.*
"Every lifetime," he confirmed. "I've loved you before. I'll love you again. And in this lifetime, I'm keeping you."
"You're being romantic again!" She beamed. "That's MORE than your daily quota!"
"Consider it a bonus."
She snuggled into him, still holding the ice jasmine flower carefully in one hand. "Best husband. Best proof. Best everything."
* Best wife. Best chaos. Best life.*
"Sigh #874."
But smiling.
(#33.)
Meanwhile - Mr. Fluffytail's Tree
Mr. Fluffytail covered his ears.
"They're VERY loud today."
Mrs. Fluffytail nodded.
"The tall human was talking about nerve endings."
"...Why do we LIVE in this tree?"
"Free nuts. Premium nuts. Remember?"
"...Fair point."
.
.
.
.
.
🌻🌻🌻
To be continued.