Promises That Come True

Time did not rush anymore.

It flowed—quietly, steadily—like a river that had finally found its course.

3 days after the surgery, the hospital room that once smelled of antiseptic and anxiety now felt lighter. Sunlight slipped through the wide windows, warming the pale curtains, touching the flowers that had long replaced IV stands and monitors.

Ailine sat upright on the bed, legs swinging slightly, eyes fixed on the envelope in Owen’s hands.

“Well?” she asked, unable to hide the impatience in her voice.

“Stop looking at it like it’s going to explode. Just say it.”

Owen exhaled slowly before opening the medical report again, even though he had read it more than once.

“The biopsy results are clear,” he said, finally lifting his gaze to meet hers. “The tumor was benign. Not cancerous. No malignant cells.”

Ailine blinked.

Once.

Twice.

“…That’s it?” she asked.

“That’s it,” Owen confirmed. “No chemotherapy. No radiation. No additional invasive procedures. Just routine follow-ups.”

For a full three seconds, Ailine did not move.

Then—

“YES!!!”

She threw her arms into the air, nearly losing her balance on the bed.

“I KNEW IT! I told you my body loves me too much to betray me!” she declared dramatically.

Owen quickly steadied her. “Careful. You’re still recovering.”

“I’m recovering very well, thank you very much,” Ailine replied smugly. “Did you hear that, world? I’m healthy! I’m alive! I’m officially allowed to be annoying for the rest of my life!”

Layla, Emma, and Ailine’s parents exchanged relieved smiles.

Her mother pressed her palms together, whispering a quiet prayer of gratitude. Her father closed his eyes briefly, shoulders finally relaxing after weeks of tension.

Owen watched all of them—then Ailine—and for the first time since the diagnosis, he allowed himself to fully breathe.

She was safe.

That was all that mattered.

The hospital stay officially ended two days later.

Ailine returned home—not to rest quietly, but to reclaim everything she felt had been delayed.

Including promises.

They sat together in the living room that afternoon. Owen on the sofa, posture straight as usual. Ailine beside him, leaning far too close, eyes gleaming with unmistakable intent.

Owen felt it immediately.

That dangerous look.

“Owen,” she said sweetly.

“…Yes?” he answered cautiously.

“You remember my birthday gift, right?”

Owen stiffened. “Which one?”

“The one you still owe me,” Ailine replied calmly. “The one you postponed because I almost died.”

Her parents froze mid-conversation.

Layla slowly lowered her coffee cup.

Emma leaned forward. “Oh no.”

Owen swallowed. “Ailine, now is not the time—”

“It is exactly the time,” Ailine cut in. “I nearly crossed over. That gives me special privileges.”

“What kind of privileges?” Owen asked warily.

Ailine raised one finger.

“This year’s birthday gift,” she said brightly, “I want to marry you.”

Silence.

Owen blinked.

Her parents stared.

Layla choked.

Emma whispered, “She didn’t even warm up.”

“And next year,” Ailine continued cheerfully, raising a second finger, “I want our first child.”

Owen’s eye twitched.

“And the year after that,” she added, third finger, “our second child.”

His jaw tightened.

“And the year after that—”

“Ailine,” Owen cut in sharply. “Stop.”

She paused. “Why?”

“How many children are you planning to have?” he demanded.

Ailine tilted her head, thinking seriously. “Hmm… a dozen?”

The room exploded.

“A DOZEN?!” Owen snapped, finally losing his composure. “Do you want to become a rabbit or something?! There is no such thing as giving birth every year! That’s extremely dangerous! Do you have any idea what pregnancy does to a woman’s body?!”

Ailine stared at him—then smiled innocently.

“So… you do plan on getting me pregnant?”

Owen froze.

Her parents stared at him.

Emma covered her mouth to stop laughing.

Layla muttered, “Oh, he’s doomed.”

“I—That’s not—That’s not what I meant!” Owen said quickly. “I’m talking about medical risks! Health! Recovery periods!”

Ailine nodded seriously. “Okay. Then ten.”

“Ailine!”

Her mother stood up, bowing slightly toward Owen. “I’m so sorry. She’s… very special.”

Her father sighed. “Her mother spoiled her too much growing up.”

“Hey!” Ailine protested. “I survived surgery. I deserve this.”

Owen pinched the bridge of his nose.

He had handled trauma patients. He had faced death. He had led surgeries under pressure.

But this?

This was something else entirely.

---

That evening, after the laughter faded and dinner was cleared away, Owen stood up.

“I have something important to say,” he announced.

The atmosphere shifted instantly.

Ailine straightened. Her parents turned their full attention to him.

Owen took a breath—deep, steady.

“I am aware,” he began carefully, “that I am not economically equal to your daughter.”

Ailine frowned. “Owen—”

He gently held up a hand, asking her to wait.

“My income as a doctor,” he continued, “may not even compare to a single advertising contract Ailine signs. I cannot promise luxury. I cannot promise extravagance.”

He bowed deeply.

“But I can promise this,” he said firmly. “I will protect her. I will care for her. I will never abandon her—physically, emotionally, or in health. I will respect her choices, her parents, and the life she has built.”

His voice lowered, sincere and unwavering.

“I am asking for your permission… to be her husband.”

The room was silent.

Ailine’s eyes trembled.

Her mother wiped her tears quietly.

Her father studied Owen for a long moment—long enough to make Ailine nervous.

Then—

“You stand up straight,” her father said.

Owen obeyed.

“You’re right,” he continued. “You are not equal to her financially.”

Ailine’s heart sank.

“But,” her father added calmly, “money was never what we wanted for our daughter.”

Owen’s breath caught.

“What we wanted,” her father said, “was someone who could stand beside her without fear. Someone who could tell her ‘no’ when she’s wrong, and stay when things become difficult.”

He smiled faintly.

“You’ve already done that.”

Ailine’s mother nodded. “You scold her when she’s reckless. You worry when she’s stubborn. Honestly—”

She glanced at Ailine.

“You behave more like our child than she does.”

Ailine gaped. “Mom!”

Owen bowed again, overwhelmed. “Thank you.”

Ailine jumped up despite everyone’s protests.

“So it’s approved?!” she squealed. “Owen's officially mine?!”

“Yes,” her father replied dryly. “And apparently, he’s the obedient one.”

Ailine crossed her arms. “Betrayal.”

Then she grinned brightly and leaned toward Owen.

“Don’t worry. If my parents hadn’t approved, I was ready to run away with you and live as farmers on a remote island.”

Owen stared at her in disbelief.

“…Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“Because that would be disrespectful to parents who fought so hard for our lives,” he replied firmly. “Don’t ever say something like that again.”

The room fell silent.

Then her mother smiled softly. “See? Ideal son-in-law.”

Her father nodded. “Agreed.”

Ailine groaned. “I’ve been replaced.”

Owen sighed—but a small smile curved his lips.

Outside, the evening light settled gently over the house.

Promises had been made.

Lives had been saved.

And two grown men—one who stepped aside, one who stepped forward—had proven that love, when mature, did not destroy.

It built.

And this time—

It stayed.