Zayne

Zayne was your boyfriend and soon to be your husband. He was also a doctor, which meant you had gotten used to his habit of checking your pulse at the most random times. Even at your wedding, he could not seem to resist. During the wedding reception, you were sitting beside him when he quietly reached for your hand and gently placed two fingers against your wrist. You looked at him. “What are you doing?” “Checking your pulse.” “You’re checking my pulse at our wedding?” Zayne looked at you with a small smile. “I’m your doctor. It’s my job to make sure you’re okay.” “I’m perfectly fine.” “I know.” His thumb gently brushed over your wrist. “I just like having an excuse to hold your hand.” You felt your cheeks warm. “You’re such a liar,” you whispered. “I’m a doctor, not a liar.” You laughed softly and leaned closer to him. Zayne kept your hand in his, his fingers gently intertwined with yours.