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It had been a shitty week. Neither of them had gotten much sleep, working endless shifts to cover for colleagues who’d fallen ill during a flu epidemic. But that night, when you arrived at your penthouse, silence welcomed you with open arms, like a much-needed balm. Brendon had gone straight to the shower, eager to wash off the smell of antiseptic, while you prepared a simple dinner. You’d eaten in whispers, sharing stories from the shift and simply enjoying not having to rush off to an emergency.
You had no idea that for days he’d been carrying more than just exhaustion on his shoulders.
Now you were sunk into the huge leather sofa. The screen was playing an episode of Chicago Fire that Brendon was barely paying attention to; his back was relaxed against the backrest, and you were resting reclined, your head resting on his chest. The rhythm of his heartbeat was steady, but somewhat rapid, a curious contrast to the calm of the moment. His large hand, with its long, rough fingers, stroked your hair with methodical slowness. Here, with you, Brendon didn’t feel the need to rush; he simply savored the peace you gave him with your mere presence.
“Doll…” he whispered.
His voice, hoarse from exhaustion, sounded unusually soft, tinged with a nervousness that was extremely rare for him. You shifted slightly, resting your chin on his chest so you could look at him. His blue eyes—the ones that used to intimidate interns, residents, and nurses alike—were looking at you with such profound tenderness that it took your breath away. There was something in his gaze, a spark of vulnerability that made your heart skip a beat.
“What’s wrong, Big Guy?” you asked in a whisper.
He stopped caressing you and cradled your cheek, tracing your jawline with his thumb. He smiled slightly; a real smile, the kind he never showed in the hospital hallways. It was the expression of a man who, after a long struggle, had finally found his home.
“At the hospital, I spend my days fixing bones, following strict protocols, and making sure everything is under absolute control. But when I walk through that door and see you… I don’t need to fix anything. I don’t need to be Park The Shark,” he said, and the vibration of his chest against your chin gave you the first hint of what was to come. “I just need to be Brendon. To be your man.”
He leaned down and kissed your forehead with extreme tenderness, letting his lips linger there for a few seconds. It was such a tender touch that you felt tears welling up in your eyes. The beating of his heart became a wild drum.
“You’re the only thing that’s real and pure in my life, Doll. The only thing I’ve let into this chaos… the only one who knows who I am when I take off my scrubs,” he continued, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “You were the only one who saw through my armor and the only one who didn’t give up until you really got to know me.”
Without breaking eye contact, he reached into the pocket of his sweatshirt and pulled out a small red velvet box. He opened it carefully, revealing an elegant, timeless ring: a platinum band—since he knew how little you liked gold—crowned by a deep red ruby that sparkled in the dim light of the lamp.
“I don’t want to go to work every morning without the certainty that you’re mine, my home, forever,” he confessed with a sincerity that disarmed you. “I’m not asking this because I need to control you, but because I desperately need to know that I belong to you. I want to wake up every day of my life, no matter how bad the shift is, and know that you’re my wife. That when I go down to the ER for a consultation, I’ll be able to see my wife being the best damn nurse they have down there. So… will you marry me, Doll?
“Damn it, Brendon…”—the lump in your throat barely let you speak.—“Of course I do. Yes, a thousand times yes, Big Guy.”
He let out a sigh of relief that washed over his entire body. He took your hand with an almost sacred reverence, kissed your ring finger, and slipped the ring onto it. The cold metal against your skin made you shiver, but the warmth of his hand covering it soon restored your composure. There were no demands, nor a trace of his usual arrogance; it was simply Brendon giving you his heart.
Brendon stared at your hand, admiring how the jewel seemed to have been created to be there, before resting his forehead against yours. The relief was almost tangible.
“You have no idea how many times I rehearsed this in my head while I was in surgery,” he admitted with a soft chuckle. “Sometimes I caught myself wondering what kind of stone would suit you best. I didn’t hesitate when I saw the ruby: it’s just like you. A rare gem, hard to find. Fire trapped in crystal. It’s intense, vibrant, and has that touch of mystery that makes you want to look closely to understand its power.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of the fearsome surgeon distracted in the middle of surgery by a ring. You stroked the back of his neck, playing with those short curls that only you were allowed to touch.
“So the great Brendon Park has a romantic side after all,” you joked, though your eyes were still misty.
“Just for you, Doll. The rest of the world can keep thinking I’m a heartless bastard; I don’t give a damn about their opinion,” he replied. This time, when he kissed you, it wasn’t the usual hungry kiss. It was a slow kiss, full of promises and the taste of the future. Your future together.
He settled himself more comfortably on the couch, pulling you until you were sitting astride his lap. His hands settled on your waist with protective firmness. Brendon looked at you in silence, committing every detail of your face to memory.
“Tomorrow we’re going to walk into that hospital and everyone is going to know that I’ve finally convinced you,” he murmured with a hint of amusement. “You have to tell me how your colleagues react when they see the ring.”
“Bren, you’re mean. You know they’re going to place bets on who the lucky fiancé is,” you scolded him gently.
“I know, but I love watching everyone go crazy trying to figure out who’s won over their Sunshine,” he replied with a sinful half-smile. “But that’s for tomorrow. Tonight… tonight I just want you to be my wife in every way but on paper. Because, Doll, you’ve been mine ever since you said yes.”
He lifted you into his arms with astonishing ease and stood up without breaking eye contact. As he carried you toward the bedroom, with the moonlight streaming through the windows, you knew that no matter how many terrible blows life threw your way, you would always have that safe haven in the arms of the PTMC’s most feared surgeon.
“I love you, Big Guy,” you whispered into his ear.
Brendon stopped right at the threshold, pressing you against his chest.
“And I love you, Mrs. Park,” he replied in a voice that resonated deep within your soul. “More than anyone will ever know. Because, Doll, you're my final destination”