Ding dong!
The bell rang just as I glanced at the clock in the kitchen. 5:00 PM.
He's home.
I quickly untied my apron and wiped the flour off my cheeks. Rushing to the lounge, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair looked like I'd just come out of a storm. Great. I ran my fingers through the mess, trying to tame the strands.
My face was already red from the kitchen heat, but it still needed a touch of color. I bolted to the bedroom, swiped on my favorite lipstick, sprayed a little perfume, and checked myself one last time.
Okay, I'm ready.
Just then, the doorbell rang again.
I ran.
Opening the door slowly, I saw him—my husband. Just the sight of him made my heart skip a beat. He looked a little tired, his shoulders slouched, his face weary from work, but his smile? That smile made everything better.
I smiled back as I opened the gate and let him in. He walked in carrying his laptop bag in one hand—and something hidden in the other.
My smile widened. What's he hiding?
I leaned forward a little, trying to peek, but he quickly turned his body.
Suspicious.
"What's your problem?" I half-pouted, playfully punching his chest. "What are you hiding, huh?"
He laughed, clearly enjoying my curiosity. Then he raised his eyebrows and said, "Close your eyes."
I did. By now, I wasn't even mad. The excitement had already melted my anger.
"Halime…"
He whispered my name in that lazy, soft tone of his. I don't know why, but I loved the way it sounded coming from his lips—even when he said it like he'd just woken up.
I peeked open one eye.
He was on one knee, holding a bouquet. A small tag dangled from the stems, swaying slightly.
"Happy three months, wifey."
I smiled like an idiot. This—whatever this was—was beautiful. I wish I had recorded it. Such a perfect moment.
"Thank you," I whispered, "but get up now. I had a surprise for you too."
"Oh? Then give it to me."
"Not now!" I rolled my eyes. "You just got back from work. Go freshen up first."
He chuckled. "Okay, but what did you plan?"
I gave him a mischievous look. "Will you go on a date with me?"
He burst into laughter.
I scowled. "Why are you laughing?"
"I just didn't expect the first girl to ever ask me out on a date would be my wife."
Tch. If not me, then who? Some random girl?
"Well then, go get ready. I will too."
"Alright," he said, but I stopped him just as he turned.
"Wait! There's a rule."
He raised an eyebrow. "What kind of rule?"
"We get ready in the same room, but we don't look at each other. No glancing. No sneaking peeks. We only see each other once we meet in the garden."
He stared at me like I'd just proposed climbing Mount Everest in flip-flops.
"That's a tough rule," he muttered.
I smirked. "Yeah, tough for you. You never stop looking at me."
I knew it would be hard for him. He couldn't help it. He always found excuses to glance at me—even when I was wearing his oversized T-shirt and messy buns.
But this time?
Oh, this time, I was going to wear the dress.
My red one.