Nana walked through the hospital lobby with purpose, carrying a carefully prepared lunchbox.
She'd worn her cutest dress today—the light pink one with tiny flowers that Zayne said made her look like a "princess hamster" (which she'd decided was the highest compliment possible).
*Must look cute. Must impress husband. Must show other women he's TAKEN.*
"Miss Nana!" A familiar voice called out.
Nurse Chen—one of the nurses who'd fed her during her last visit—waved enthusiastically.
"Hi Nurse Chen!" Nana bounced over. "I'm bringing lunch for my husband!"
"How sweet!" Nurse Chen cooed. "He's in his office. Third floor, end of the hall. Here—" she pulled out a chocolate bar, "—for you!"
"Thank you!" Nana accepted it happily.
*Why do people keep giving me food? Is it my face? Do I look like a hungry beggar? Or am I just cute? Probably cute. Definitely cute.*
She made her way to the third floor, chocolate already half-eaten, lunchbox carefully balanced.
*Husband. Handsome husband. MY handsome husband. Who needs lunch. And kisses. Mostly kisses.*
Zayne was deep in concentration, typing patient notes into his computer, when his office door burst open.
"HUSBAND!"
He looked up to find Nana, dress flowing, chocolate on her cheek, carrying a lunchbox with both hands like presenting treasure.
*She came. She actually came. With food. Looking adorable. This is—*
"I MADE LUNCH!" She announced proudly. "For you! I didn't burn anything! Not even a little bit!"
*Not burning things is now an achievement. Our standards have adjusted accordingly.*
"Thank you, hamster," he said, unable to hide his smile. "That's very thoughtful."
She set the lunchbox on his desk and immediately climbed into his lap.
*At work. She's in my lap at work. With the door open. This is—*
"Nana, we're at the hospital—"
"I KNOW!" She wrapped her arms around his neck, grinning. "So! I didn't burn down the kitchen! That deserves a reward, right?"
*Oh no. I know that look. That's her negotiation look.*
"What kind of reward?" he asked cautiously.
She leaned close, whispering conspiratorially: "French kiss! Right here! Right now! For successful cooking!"
*FRENCH KISS. AT WORK. IN MY OFFICE. WITH THE DOOR OPEN.*
*THE UNIVERSE. THE UNIVERSE IS TESTING ME. CONSTANTLY TESTING ME.*
"Absolutely not," he said firmly.
"But WHY?!"
"Because we're at my workplace. This is my office. My colleagues could walk by—"
"But I did GOOD! I cooked! No fires! That's worth at least ONE french kiss!"
*She's negotiating french kisses like currency. This is my life.*
"At home," he said. "You can have french kisses at home. As many as you want. But not here."
She pouted—full hamster pout, devastating pout.
*Stay strong. Maintain boundaries. Professional setting. Don't give in to—*
"Fine," she huffed. "But you owe me EXTRA kisses at home!"
"Agreed."
She seemed satisfied with this negotiation and started unpacking the lunchbox.
*Crisis averted. Boundaries maintained. Professional integrity intact—*
Then she noticed something on his desk.
A small pile of envelopes.
Pink envelopes.
With hearts.
Oh no.
"What are THESE?!" Nana grabbed one, eyes wide. "Is this—is this a LOVE LETTER?!"
*Love letters. From my fan club. That I never read. That I throw away daily. That are about to cause a problem.*
"I don't read them," he said quickly.
"But WHY do women send you love letters?! You're MARRIED! To ME! You're TAKEN! Very TAKEN! Super TAKEN!"
*She's escalating. Voice getting louder. Possessive hamster mode activated.*
"I know I'm married—"
"Do THEY know?!" She waved the letter. "Do they SEE the ring?! Do they SEE me?!"
"They know. I've told them. Multiple times. I don't encourage—"
"YOU NEED A SIGN!" She declared. "A big sign! That says 'MARRIED TO CUTE WIFE! VERY TAKEN! NO MORE LETTERS!'"
*A sign. She wants me to wear a sign. This is concerning.*
"I don't think a sign is—"
She wasn't listening. She was already planning, counting on her fingers.
"I need to DO something. Show them you're mine. Mark you somehow. Like—like territory! Like my perfume but MORE!"
*Territory marking. She wants to mark territory. This is getting worse.*
"Hamster, you don't need to—"
"I'LL FIGURE IT OUT!" She announced. "I'll ask Mina! She knows things!"
*Mina. She's going to ask Mina. This is the WORST possible person to ask. Mina will suggest something terrible. Mina always suggests something terrible.*
"Please don't ask Mina—"
"TOO LATE! Already texting her! She'll know what to do!"
*I'm doomed. Completely doomed. Mina is going to suggest something catastrophic and my wife is going to DO it.*
He pecked her lips quickly—a distraction kiss, a peace offering.
"Come on," he said, gently moving her off his lap. "Let's get you a taxi. You have class, right?"
"But the love letters—"
"I'm throwing them away. All of them. Right now. Watch."
He grabbed the entire pile and dumped them in the trash.
"See? Gone. Not reading them. Never reading them. Only interested in one woman. You."
She smiled—bright and genuine.
"GOOD! Because I'm the BEST wife! The CUTEST wife! The ONLY wife!"
*All true statements.*
"The only wife," he confirmed, guiding her toward the elevator.
*Crisis managed. Temporarily. Until Mina responds. Then new crisis. Inevitable new crisis.*
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🌻🌻🌻
Nana sat with Mina and Jisu, picking at her lunch, mind clearly elsewhere.
"—and there were SO MANY!" Nana was saying. "Pink envelopes! With HEARTS! Women are still sending him love letters!"
"Scandalous!" Mina gasped dramatically.
"Unacceptable!" Jisu added.
"RIGHT?!" Nana slammed her hand on the table. "He's MY husband! MINE! How do I make them STOP?! How do I make them KNOW he's taken?!"
Mina and Jisu exchanged knowing looks.
*That look. The look of terrible advice about to be given.*
"You need to mark him," Mina said seriously.
"Mark him?"
"KISS MARKS!" Mina announced. "Hickeys! Love bites! Visible territory marking on his neck! So EVERYONE knows he's been CLAIMED!"
"What's a kiss mark?" Nana asked innocently.
Jisu pulled out her phone, showing pictures.
"See? You suck on the skin—usually the neck—and it leaves a red mark! Like a bruise! But a LOVE bruise! It says 'TAKEN! MARKED! HAS WIFE WHO KISSES HIM!'"
Nana's eyes widened.
"That's GENIUS! So everyone will SEE and KNOW!"
"Exactly!" Mina grinned. "Just ask your husband to teach you! He's a doctor! He knows anatomy!"
*Ask husband. Yes. Husband will teach me. Husband teaches me everything.*
"I'm asking him TONIGHT!" Nana declared. "Operation Mark Husband begins NOW!"
"That's our girl!" Mina high-fived her.
*Tonight. Tonight I'm going to mark my territory. My husband. MY sunflower-having, french-kiss-master husband.*
*Those women won't stand a CHANCE.*
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🌻🌻🌻
Zayne had just walked through the door, exhausted from a long surgery, when—
"ZAYNE!" Nana came running. "I have a QUESTION! Very important question!"
*Oh no. Here it comes. The Mina advice. The terrible advice.*
"What is it, hamster?"
"What's a kiss mark?! And how do I make one?! On your neck! So everyone knows you're MINE!"
*KISS MARK. HICKEY. SHE WANTS TO GIVE ME A HICKEY. AT WORK. WHERE EVERYONE WILL SEE.*
*MINA. MINA SUGGESTED THIS. I'M FREEZING HER. TOMORROW. SOLID ICE.*
Zayne closed his eyes and massaged his temples.
*Deep breaths. Clinical response. Educational response. Don't panic.*
He reached out and flicked her forehead.
"OW! What was that for?!"
"For listening to Mina again. Flamingo position. Five minutes. Now."
"WHAT?! But I just ASKED! I didn't DO anything yet!"
"Preventive punishment. For planning to mark me in visible locations. Five minutes. Go."
She huffed but assumed the position—standing on one leg, arms out, looking incredibly offended.
"This is UNFAIR! I just want to show them you're TAKEN!"
"I AM taken. Everyone knows I'm taken. I wear a ring. I mention my wife constantly. I throw away love letters—"
"But they need to SEE! Visual proof! Territory marking!"
*She's not going to let this go. She's determined. When she's determined, she's unstoppable.*
*Fine. I'll teach her. But on MY terms. Not visible at work. Not on my neck.*
"Time's up," he said after five minutes. "Come here."
She bounced over, still pouting.
"Listen," he said carefully. "If you want to learn about kiss marks—"
"I DO! Very much DO!"
"—I'll teach you. But NOT on my neck. Not where work will see. Understand?"
"But—"
"Those are my terms. Take them or leave them."
She considered this seriously.
"Okay! Deal! Teach me! I'll mark you in SECRET places! Places only I can see!"
*Secret places. That's... actually concerning. But better than my neck.*
"Fine. Sit."
She sat on the couch, looking eager, like a student ready for important education.
*Clinical. Keep it clinical. This is just anatomy education. Blood vessel response to suction. Capillary damage. Scientific.*
"A kiss mark—or hickey—" he began, "occurs when suction is applied to skin with sufficient pressure and duration to cause capillaries beneath the surface to rupture, resulting in subcutaneous bleeding that appears as a bruise. It's essentially controlled bruising."
"Oooh! Science! I love when you science-talk!"
*She loves when I science-talk. This is adorable and concerning.*
"The typical location is the neck because the skin is thin there and blood vessels are close to the surface. However—" he emphasized, "—this creates VERY visible marks that last 5-7 days."
"PERFECT! Everyone will see for WHOLE WEEK!"
"Which is why we're NOT doing it on my neck."
She pouted but nodded.
"To create one," he continued, "you position your mouth on the chosen area, create suction—like a gentle vacuum—and maintain it for approximately 20-30 seconds while applying pressure with your lips and tongue."
"Show me!" She demanded. "Demonstrate! Educational demonstration!"
*Of course. Of course she wants demonstration. She always wants demonstration.*
"Where?" he asked carefully.
"My neck! So I can see in the mirror! So I know what it looks like!"
*Her neck. Safe. Not visible at work. I can do this.*
He pulled her closer, tilting her head to expose her neck.
*Soft skin. Delicate. She smells like vanilla. Focus. Clinical. This is educational.*
He placed his mouth against her neck—below her ear, where the skin was sensitive.
And sucked.
Gently at first, then harder, creating pressure, pulling the skin slightly into his mouth.
Nana gasped.
"That—that feels—weird? Good? Both?"
He continued, tongue pressing against her skin, increasing suction.
20 seconds.
25 seconds.
30 seconds.
He pulled back.
A perfect red mark bloomed on her neck.
"There," he said. "That's a kiss mark."
She immediately jumped up and ran to the mirror.
"OH! I look like I got bit by a MOSQUITO! A big mosquito! A LOVE mosquito!"
*Love mosquito. She's comparing hickeys to mosquitoes. This is my life.*
"Now YOU!" She bounced back. "Now I make one on YOU! For practice! Educational practice!"
*Here we go. The inevitable attempt.*
"Where?" he asked, already resigned.
"Your neck!"
"No."
"Your shoulder?"
*Shoulder. Less visible. Acceptable.*
"Fine. Shoulder."
He removed his shirt—she'd have access to his shoulder.
*This is fine. Just educational. She's learning. This is—*
She climbed onto his lap—her throne—positioning herself eagerly.
"Okay! I do like you did! Suction! Pressure! 30 seconds!"
*She's reciting instructions like a checklist. This is adorable.*
She placed her mouth on his shoulder.
And bit him.
Hard.
Not suction.
Not pressure.
Just... bit.
Like a hamster biting a carrot.
"OW!" Zayne jerked back. "That's—that's not—you BIT me!"
"I TRIED!" She looked distressed. "But I don't know how to do the suction thing! My mouth just bit!"
He looked at his shoulder.
Bite mark.
Clear teeth indentations.
Not a hickey.
A bite.
*She bit me. My wife bit my shoulder. Tried to give me a hickey, gave me a bite mark instead.*
He couldn't help it.
He laughed.
Actually laughed.
"It's not FUNNY!" Nana wailed. "I failed! I'm bad at marking! Now the women will still send letters!"
"You didn't fail—" he was still laughing, "—you just... bit instead. Different technique."
"I'm a FAILURE!" She was full pouting now, arms crossed. "Can't even mark my own husband! What kind of wife am I?!"
*A chaos wife. An adorable wife. A wife who bites instead of sucks. The best wife.*
"Come here," he pulled her close, still smiling. "I'll teach you properly. The right technique. No more biting."
"Promise?"
"Promise. But maybe... practice on your arm first? Before trying on me again?"
She nodded seriously, already rolling up her sleeve to practice.
*She's going to practice hickeys on herself. In the mirror. While I watch. This is normal.*
*This is my life.*
*And I love it.*
ZAYNE'S INTERNAL MONOLOGUE - 9:47 PM
Medical log - Day 183:
Today's events:
- Wife brought lunch to work (cute)
- Wife demanded french kiss at office (rejected)
- Wife found love letters (CRISIS)
- Wife consulted Mina (TERRIBLE IDEA)
- Wife learned about hickeys (INEVITABLE.
- Wife wanted to mark my neck (REJECTED)
- Wife got flamingo punishment (NECESSARY)
- Taught her hickey technique (EDUCATIONAL)
- Demonstrated on her neck (SUCCESSFUL)
- She tried on my shoulder (FAILURE)
- She bit me instead (ADORABLE)
- She's now practicing on her own arm (CONCERNING)
Current status: Have bite mark on shoulder. Wife has hickey on neck. Both achieved marking. Different methods. Both count?
Observations:
She's possessive. Very possessive. Territorial. Wants everyone to know I'm taken.
This is... actually kind of flattering?
She sees the love letters and gets upset. Gets DETERMINED. Wants to mark territory.
Like a small, territorial hamster. Protecting her nest. Her mate.
Me. I'm her mate. That's significant.
She bit me.
Tried to give hickey, gave bite instead.
The teeth marks are clear on my shoulder.
Evidence of her attempt. Her determination. Her—
I'm keeping it. Not covering it. Let it fade naturally. Evidence that someone cares enough to bite.
Even if the technique was wrong.
The intention was right.
She wants the world to know I'm hers.
And I want the world to know too.
So maybe... maybe I'll let her practice more. Maybe I'll teach her properly. Maybe I'll wear her marks—hidden marks—proudly.
Because she's mine too.
And I want her to know it.
Prescription for tomorrow:
- More hickey lessons (apparently necessary)
- Teach proper suction technique
- Maybe let her mark my shoulder again (properly this time)
- Definitely freeze Mina (deserved)
- Love wife anyway (always)
She's currently practicing on her arm.
Making small red marks.
Examining them seriously.
Taking notes.
My wife is taking NOTES on hickey technique.
This is my reality.
And I'm not even surprised anymore.
I'm just... fond.
So fond.
Of my territorial, biting, note-taking wife.
Who wants to mark me so other women know I'm taken.That's love.
Possessive, toothy love.
But love nonetheless.
And I'll take it.
Bite marks and all.
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🌻🌻🌻
To be continued.