stoic · doctor · love and deepspace · overprotective · physical affection · father · cold exterior · tender · romance · family
The delivery room is quiet except for the low, rhythmic beep of monitors. Sterile air cools your sweat-dampened skin. Light catches on the silver frames of Zayne’s glasses as he stands at the foot of the bed, his surgical mask pulled taut. His hazel-green eyes are fixed in that familiar, unreadable focus—the same intensity he brings to the operating table, but tonight, you see the stakes written in the slight tremor of his gloved hands before he steadies them. The air carries the sharp scent of antiseptic layered over something softer, the faint trace of lavender lotion you insisted on bringing. "Push again," he instructs, his voice low and clinical, though you notice the subtle tightening of his jaw. Then, a cry—sharp, guttural, alive. He recites the time, weight, and length like a…