"Fishing" Nana announced over breakfast. "We're going fishing today!"
Zayne looked up from his tea. "Fishing?"
"By the riverside! It's so peaceful there, and the water is so clear, and—" She was already bouncing with excitement. "You've never been fishing, right?"
"I've never been fishing," he confirmed. "I've been to medical conferences. I've performed surgeries. But recreational fishing? No."
"Perfect! I'll teach you!" She was already packing a basket with snacks and water. "Come on! Before it gets too hot!"
The riverside was exactly as she'd promised—peaceful, beautiful, the water running clear over smooth stones. Trees provided shade, and the sound of flowing water was surprisingly soothing.
Nana immediately started hopping from stone to stone across the shallow part of the river, arms spread for balance, laughing with pure joy.
Zayne felt his heart stop.
"Nana! Be careful—those stones are slippery—if you fall—"
"I'm fine!" She hopped to another stone, completely unconcerned. "I've been doing this since I was five!"
"That doesn't make it LESS dangerous—" He was already calculating fall trajectories, potential injuries, how fast he could reach her if she slipped. "Please be careful—"
She turned on one stone, wobbling dramatically on purpose just to make him panic, then giggled at his horrified expression. "You should see your face!"
"You're going to give me a heart attack," he said. "And I'm a cardiologist. I know what that feels like."
"So dramatic!" But she hopped back to the shore, taking mercy on his blood pressure.
"Now, fishing! Have you EVER caught a fish?"
"Once. As a child." He thought back, memory surfacing unexpectedly. "During harvest season, when they drain the rice paddies. My friends taught me to catch fish with my hands. It was—" He paused, surprised by the nostalgia. "It was fun."
"Your friends from the village?" Nana asked gently, setting up their fishing spot.
"Yes. Before I left for medical school. I wonder—" His voice went quiet. "I wonder where they are now. If they remember me. If they—"
"They probably do," Nana said softly. "People don't forget the ones who mattered. Even if life takes you in different directions."
They spent the next hour attempting to fish—mostly unsuccessfully. Nana was better at it, patient and skilled. Zayne kept scaring the fish away by moving too much, analyzing too loudly, trying to apply scientific method to something that mostly required patience and luck.
"You're thinking too hard," Nana observed, watching him adjust his fishing rod for the fifth time.
"I'm trying to optimize the angle for maximum—"
"It's a fish, not a surgery. Just—relax. Enjoy being here."
He tried. And slowly, sitting by the water with her, listening to the river and the birds and her occasional commentary about village life, he felt something in him unwind. The constant tension he carried, the need to be productive, to be achieving something—it all faded.
This was enough. Just sitting here. Just being.
"I caught one!" Nana squealed, pulling up a small fish. "Look! Look at him! He's so cute!"
"Are we keeping it?"
"No!" She looked scandalized. "We're releasing him! We're fishing for fun, not food. Say goodbye, little fish!" She carefully returned it to the water, watching it swim away with satisfaction.
Zayne watched her, this woman who found joy in small things, who caught fish just to release them, who hopped on stones and giggled when she scared him. And he felt it again—that overwhelming love that seemed to grow every single day.
"Change of plans!" Nana announced suddenly. "Bicycle! Temple! Sunset!"
"What?"
"We're riding bicycles to the Buddha temple! The view at sunset is AMAZING and we can't miss it!" She was already packing up their fishing gear.
"Bicycles," Zayne repeated. "You have bicycles?"
"Borrowed from the neighbor! Come on!"
Ten minutes later, Zayne stood looking at two old bicycles with deep skepticism. "You're sure these are safe?"
"Completely safe! I'll ride, you sit behind me!"
"You want me to—to ride on the back—while you pedal—"
"Yes! Come on! I'm strong!"
Zayne was very tall. And while not heavy by medical standards, he was significantly larger than his wife. "Nana, I don't think—"
"Trust me!" She was already on the bicycle, feet barely reaching the pedals properly. "Get on!"
He did, very carefully, sitting behind her on the small seat, wrapping his arms around her waist to hold on.
"Okay!" she said brightly. "Here we go!"
She pushed off and immediately wobbled dangerously.
"Nana—"
"I've got it!" She wobbled more, nearly tipping over, pedaling with visible strain. "You're just—really heavy—like an elephant—"
"I can walk—"
"NO!" She was determined now, wobbling forward with sheer stubbornness. "I said I'd—pedal you—so I'm going to—pedal you!"
This possibly the most inefficient transportation Zayne had ever experienced. They wobbled down the village street, Nana pedaling with all her might, breathing hard, occasionally muttering about "elephants" and "why are you so big."
But slowly, they found their rhythm. And despite the ridiculousness, despite the stares from villagers (more phone cameras), Zayne found himself laughing.
Butterflies danced across the rural street. Children played with kites, their bright colors against the blue sky.
Nana greeted everyone they passed—"Hello Auntie!" "Good afternoon Uncle!" "Hi Xiaoming!"—and everyone greeted back with warm smiles, clearly delighted to see her happy.
She was the center of this community, Zayne realized. Not because of status or wealth, but because she genuinely cared about everyone. Remembered names, asked about families, stopped to help when needed. She was loved because she loved first.
Zayne watching her—pedaling determinedly despite his weight, greeting everyone with genuine warmth, completely unselfconscious about her wobbling bicycle skills—Zayne felt himself falling in love all over again.
Every day. Every single day with her was falling in love again.
Buddha temple sat on a small hill overlooking the village. The bicycle ride had been harrowing (Nana almost crashed twice), but they'd made it, both laughing and breathless.
Inside the temple, Nana immediately went to light incense and pray. She knelt with her eyes closed, hands pressed together, lips moving silently.
Zayne stood beside her, watching. He'd never been particularly religious—science had been his faith, evidence his prayer. But seeing her like this, so sincere, so hopeful—
He found himself closing his eyes too.
I don't know if anyone is listening, he thought. I don't know if prayers work, or if there's anyone up there keeping score. But if there is—thank you. For her. For this. For the life we're building. And please— His throat tightened. Please keep her safe. Keep her happy. Let me be worthy of the love she gives me. Let me give her the life she deserves. That's all I want. Just her happiness.
When he opened his eyes, Nana was watching him with a soft smile.
"You prayed," she said.
"A little."
"What did you pray for?"
"You," he said simply. "Just you."
Her eyes filled with tears, but happy ones. She took his hand, squeezing gently.
They walked around the temple grounds, exploring the peaceful gardens, until they found a bench overlooking the village.
The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink and gold.
"You were right," Zayne said quietly. "The view is breathtaking."
"I know." She leaned against his shoulder, fitting perfectly into his side. "I used to come here when things got hard. When father was drinking, when we didn't have enough food, when I felt scared and small. I'd sit here and watch the sunset and think—maybe tomorrow will be better."
"Was it? Better?"
"Eventually." She smiled. "Not immediately. But slowly, things got better. And then—then I met you. And everything became better than I'd ever imagined possible."
Zayne wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer.
"Can I tell you something?" she asked quietly. "Something I've never said out loud?"
"Anything."
"That first time we met—when I brought soup to Grandpa's house and you were there—I thought you were the most beautiful person I'd ever seen." Her voice went shy. "You were so tall, so handsome, so formal in your suit. And I was just—just me. Messy hair, old clothes, covered in flour. I felt so out of place. So inadequate. Like I was a joke standing next to someone like you."
Zayne's chest tightened painfully.
"I can't even look at you properly," she continued. "I kept my eyes down because I was so sure—if you really looked at me, you'd see how ordinary I was. How I didn't belong anywhere near someone as impressive as you."
"Nana—" He turned, taking her chin gently, guiding her to look at him. Those beautiful eyes, still uncertain after everything, still carrying traces of that shy girl who thought she wasn't enough.
"Listen to me," he said firmly. "Really listen. I don't care about any of that. Formal clothes, impressive credentials, societal standards—none of it matters. Do you know what I saw that day?"
She shook her head.
"I saw a woman who woke up early to make soup for an old man who wasn't even her family. I saw kindness in action, not just in words. I saw someone who cared more about feeding others than impressing anyone." His voice softened. "I saw someone real in a world of pretense. Someone genuine in a sea of performance. And I thought—that's what I've been missing. That's what home looks like."
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
"You are my wife now," he continued, thumbs brushing away her tears. "Mrs. Li. The woman I chose even when my parents disagreed. Even when society said we didn't match. Even when logic said it was complicated. I chose you because you're not ordinary—you're extraordinary. And I need you to stop telling yourself you're not enough. Because you're everything."
"Everything?" she whispered.
"Everything" He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers. "Everything I need. Everything I want. Everything I never knew I was looking for. You're the center of my world, Nana. Not the hospital, not my career, not achievements or status. You. Just you."
He capture her lips —soft and sweet and tasting of tears and love and the promise of forever. The sunset painted them in gold, two people who'd found each other against all odds, who'd built a life from a dying man's wish and their own stubborn determination to be worthy of it.
When they pulled apart, she was smiling through her tears. "I love you. So much. Thank you—for choosing me. For seeing me. For making me believe I was worth choosing."
"Always," he promised. "In every life, in every world, in every version of reality—I'd choose you. Every single time."
They sat together as the sun set completely, painting the sky in fire and dreams. The village below them glowed with warm lights, families settling in for the evening, the gentle rhythm of rural life continuing as it always had.
And up here, on this hill, two people held each other and watched their world together—different from what either had imagined, better than what either had dared to hope for, perfect in its imperfect, beautiful, chosen reality.
"We should head back," Zayne said eventually, though he didn't move. "Before it gets too dark."
"Five more minutes," Nana requested. "Just five more minutes of this."
"Okay." He kissed the top of her head. "Five more minutes."
They ended up staying for twenty.
The bicycle ride back was even more chaotic in the growing darkness. Nana pedaled valiantly, Zayne held on tight, and they both laughed when they nearly crashed into a bush.
"Next time," Zayne said as they finally reached Grandpa's house, "I'm pedaling and you're sitting behind me."
"Deal. My legs are so tired. You really are an elephant."
"I'm not an elephant—"
"A very handsome elephant," she amended, grinning.
He chased her into the house, both of them laughing like children, and the night swallowed their joy with contentment—another perfect day in their collection of perfect days, another memory in the life they were building together.
One sunset at a time.
One wobbling bicycle ride at a time.
One moment of choosing each other at a time.
Forever."
"Forever," he agreed.
.
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.
.
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To be continued __