Cafune : run your fingers through the hair of someone you love.
Cafune
It was the most mundane scene from an early morning. She stood in their private terrace drying her hair looking at the beginning of orange rays of sun spread on the horizon. He was not fully awake. He was still in the bed with his one hand under his head and other around the pillow as he lay on his stomach, his face on the side, looking at the blithe picture she created in dawn. The city hasn't woken up fully and that gave the birds the comfort of sitting by the trees crooning sweetly, making the perfect score for the sight he behold.
In the fraction of second between the lighting of the screen and buzzing of the alarm, he hit the dismiss button. He didn't want any noise to disturb the serenity of the morning, not even the perceived commitments that awaited him. He wanted to savor the moment. Take in her natural beauty lightened only by the shade of the sun and the mirth of her eyes. Her skin glistened as if she was lit from the inside.
She was oblivious to his attention on her as she stood looking on the vast city that spread beyond with an innocent smile that rivaled the infant. Her one hand aimlessly patted her hair with the towel, while her other hand rested on her stomach, unconsciously feeling the life they both created there, inside her.
His lips involuntarily curved into a smile as he saw her bit her tongue between her lips, something she does when she finds something that catches her interest. He saw her walk towards the home garden he prided upon and bend near a plant that bore a bright red rose. Her smile widened, brightening up his whole being, as she took the plucked flower near her nose to smell it. He regarded the inhale of her chest with attention of a child who looks at the fireworks and when she pulled her head back hit by the fragrance, his entire being exploded.
There was only so much patience a man can boast before he had to get pleasure of love for all his senses.
In slow strides, meant not to alert her on his presence, he reached her. His one hand covered her hand that held the rose, while the other touched her hair. The smoothness of her silk hair mixed with wetness and smell of freshness compelled him to move forward and place a kiss on her hair line. Her free hand touched his chest with her finger tips. She moved closer to him, her way of letting him in her cocoon.
His lips traced a smooth line from her forehead to her cheeks, her chin and finally landed on the corner of her lips. Her lips curved into small smile and he kissed her smile.
"Geet." He said. If happiness had a name and face, it was her. His friend. His lover. His wife.
Pulling away from him with a teasing smile, she took her hand away from her hair and held it in her small, soft palm. She tip toed to reach his face and he indulged by bending down to reach her. She brushed his nose on hers before placing a languid kiss on his cheeks. His palm flattened on her belly and she placed her hand over his. They shared a smile of common pride and happiness.
He bent his knees, coming face to face with the abode of the symbol of their love for next few months. With eyes that radiated fatherly pride, he leaned to place a lingering kiss there.
Closing her eyes at the gratification the simple act bestowed, she wove her fingers through his rough hair, caressing slowly, letting him bond with their child in his own way as she fell in love with him some more.
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