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“Do I put the pin here?”
“Wha- no.. nononono, you’re going to prick me!”
“Ah sorry!”
You smiled, gently taking the safety pin from his hand and securing your hijab. Choso handed you another pin, pouting at how easily you slid it into the fabric of your scarf.
“No need to look so sad. Trust me, I was struggling at first too.”
“You? But you always make it look so easy.”
“Let’s just say you don’t want to see what I looked like when I first started wearing it,” you giggled, dramatically rolling your eyes in a useless attempt to erase the cringy memory.
“Now I’m curious,” he said, cupping his face in his hands as he watched you stare intently in the mirror, hands carefully adjusting the scarf.
You glanced at his reflection, breathing out of your nose when noticing how much he looked like a little school girl.
“What?”
“Nothing,” you said, stressing the ending.
“Hey, y/n. You think I’d look good in one?”
“In what?”
“This,” he said, leaning in and grasping the dangling end of your hijab with the utmost care.
Your breath caught in your throat, not daring to breathe with how close he was. Of course, he was simply gesturing to your hijab, not having an idea how much he stirred your heart.
Though you were married, he still seemed to be every drop of the word dense mixed in one person.
You cleared your throat, getting off the stool and turning in his direction.
“Guess we’ll find out,” you excitedly announced, interlacing your fingers and pulling him by his hands to the seat.
“I’m sorry but the space buns have to go, at least for now,” you breathed in his ear, hands resting on his shoulders.
He felt himself melt into your touch, like a drizzle of black molasses gathering into itself after being poured. You were always so kind in everything you did, and the way you touched and spoke to him like he could slip through your fingers like sand on a beach cradled his heart.
You started untying his hair and gathering it into a single bun, which proved difficult considering his short hair. Some strands escaped, but you managed to secure them with a few bobby pins.
“What color?” You asked, running over to your closet.
“Red,” he answered, and you rummaged through your thousands of scarves to take out a single blood-red chiffon hijab.
“Here, put this on for now,” you said, throwing him a red undercap to match. He put it on with ease, which made you a bit giddy since you knew he always watched you get ready.
You walked back over to him, making him look straight at you while you wrapped the scarf around his head, expertly holding the pins with your lips.
He stared at you the entire time, from how you would quickly grab a few pins to stick to the fabric, to how you would stand back a bit to make sure the hijab looked secure and pretty on him.
“Done! You can look in the mirror now,” you said, watching as Choso turned to look at himself. While he did that, you grabbed your phone, unlocking it with a desperate attempt at an inconspicuous face ID behind him and waiting for him to turn to you again.
“So? Do you think I’m pretty?”
You held in your laugh, nodding while simultaneously trying to position your phone so he would not notice.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing at all! I was just thinking how you’re the prettiest hijabi I’ve ever seen. The red really compliments you.”
“Hand over the phone, y/n,” he demanded and you froze like a deer in headlights before scurrying off, phone tightly grasped.
You were so close to the door, but he had caught you and pulled you into his chest. This was the moment where your heart would be racing, but he still had the hijab on and your stomach was doing somersaults from laughing so hard.
“I’m..oh god- I’m sorry. But I can’t take it. Don’t get me wrong, you’re really cute, but you look so funny,” you said gasping in between laughter.
“Agh, this was a bad idea,” he groaned, slowly taking the pins off and removing his hijab.
“But you’re so pretty~”
“Be quiet.”
“Choso!! Don’t be mad,” you whined, showing him the picture you snagged in a false attempt of cheering him up. You managed to take it when he noticed the phone and started approaching you. It came out blurry, with the red hijab smeared like a lipstick stain and for some reason you found it the funniest thing in the world.
He silently watched you lose yourself laughing, and could not help the way the corners of his mouth curved up and how he too started chuckling at the stupidness of the whole ordeal.
“I’m not mad. It’s kind of deserved, since I had an ulterior motive,” he said, plopping himself on the bed and working on putting his hair in the usual style.
That made you stop laughing, and more curious about what he was talking about.
“What motive?”
“I’ll tell you if you sit next to me,” he said, patting the space next to him. You did as told, excited to hear what he had to say.
“So..” he started, his large hands going up to fix your slightly messed up hijab, fingers brushing your cheek as he did.
“I just wanted to..” he trailed off, leaning into you as his hands slid down to grab your hands.
You felt a soft kiss on your forehead, then the gentle feeling of Choso’s forehead on yours.
“I wanted to watch you do something that you do on a daily basis. There’s something precious about watching the woman you love so delicately care for you and for herself,” he said, kissing the inside of your palm with so much tenderness.
“Jeez, you didn’t have to make me embarrassed after just laughing at you like that,” you said, feeling your ears burn.
“But I like it when you get all bashful. Especially when with me.”
“Of course I’m like that with you.”
“And why is that?”
“You know why.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
Your eyes darted everywhere else but him, taking back your previous statement of him being dense.
“You’re such a tease, Choso. But that’s just one of the many reasons why I love you,” you admitted, wrapping your arms around his neck and snuggling into the crook of his neck.
You took a deep breath, as if taking him in and feeling his presence touch every cell inside you. You loved him so much. From how curious and childish he is at times, to how romantic and considerate.
You pushed yourself off him, speeding over to the mirror.
“What’s wrong?” He wondered, focusing his weight on the corner of the mattress, making his hand sink just slightly.
“Nothing, just taking it off since we’re not going anywhere. I thought it’d be more comfortable to hug you like that,” you said, quickly removing the pins and unwrapping the scarf.
When done, you ran over to him and excitedly jumped on him, earning a surprised gasp.
“Sorry, too hyper.”
“No, I like that,” he whispered, his arms snaking around your back and pulling your body into him. You stayed like that for a bit, your breaths syncing.
“I don’t get how you’re so gorgeous, with the hijab on or not. Mmm, I have such a pretty wife,” he mumbled, breaking the silence and softly placing his chin over your head.
“You’re exaggerating. I’m not that pretty,” you replied, shrinking into his chest.
“Sorry, that’s just not true. You’re simply perfect to me.” Choso grabbed your face in his hands, squishing your cheeks into each other and smiling at the way you struggled to regain control.
“I told you not to do that!” You whisper-yelled, putting your hand over his, which still remained on your cheeks.
“Then stop thinking badly of yourself. You were just laughing the night away a few minutes ago.”
“I know, I just can’t help it. You make me so happy, but sometimes I just get these thoughts. It’s like the more I fall in love with you, the harsher I am on myself and I don’t get why,” you leaned into his touch, now embarrassed to look him in his eyes.
He remained silent for a bit, thumb gently caressing your cheek. He turned your head to face him. Smiling at you, Choso bumped his nose into yours, wiggling from side to side in a gentle rhythm.
“Tell me what you think is so awful about you,” he said, pulling away and forcing you to look him in the eye.
“You’ll laugh.”
“You know I won’t.”
“Fine, well...my skin. I mean- whenever I go out my skin ends up uneven shades because of the hijab. I get it’s normal, but sometimes it just bothers me so much. And the marks it leaves on me. I know that I decided this and I know that I’ve been dedicated, but sometimes I just... I feel so insecure. Not just because of the whole skin thing, but sometimes I just don’t feel like I’m a good representation of a hijabi.” Your voice cracked at the end, and you felt pathetic for something so silly.
“My love, my reasons for loving you are endless. Yet, I feel you being a hijabi is definitely a main one,” he said rubbing your back.
“Why?” You asked, genuinely curious, but not budging from the comfort of his arms.
“Because...well I’m not sure how to best put it. I know you wear it to feel closer to God and as a way to physically represent your modesty and religion, on top of so much more. But to me, it reflects your confidence and beauty a hundred times more. With every hijab you wear, and every second of your day you take to put it on, I can see your dedication and loyalty to both yourself and your beliefs. I’m sure you kept going despite your surroundings and your bad days. Yet, you put it on everytime like it’s nothing. Like every bad time doesn’t affect you. That makes you stronger than anyone I know.”
You smiled against his neck, hands trailing up to play with his soft hair.
“I wouldn’t trade any one of those bad days if it meant being with you,” you mumbled, and felt his arms tighten around you as a form of assurance. As a way of telling you, “me too.”
“Should we go back to you teaching me how to do your hijab?”
You got up to look at him, a smile beaming on your lips.
“Alright, red riding hood.”