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From where you stood in the kitchen, you heard the door to your apartment open, and you grinned. Zen was home from his morning run, but you wouldn't call out to your husband just yet. You two had a system to your mornings.
As you set breakfast on your small table a short while later, Zen emerged from the bedroom. A smile split your face, and he crossed the space between you, instantly filling your expectant arms. Steam still clung to his body, his damp hair a cool contrast to the warmth of his back beneath your fingers. You drank in his scent and presence. He was constantly trying new products, so you never could place exactly what his after-shower smell was aside from wonderfully fresh. His breath puffed warm and familiar on the skin between your neck and shoulder.
"Good morning, Jagiya," he murmured, and pulled away just enough to press his lips to yours. The kiss was slow, solid, and tender. You're here , it said. It felt like the comfortable reassurance of knowing this is exactly where you were meant to be.
And when you broke apart and saw the adoration overflowing from his scarlet eyes, you knew it was true. With him was always where you were meant to be. You slipped a hand from around him to brush delicate fingertips over his ivory eyelashes, free of their usual mascara. He held still and let you, not even flinching. After a moment of your adoring touches, one of his own hands fell away to grab your wrist and press featherlight kisses to your fingertips, and then a lingering touch to the ring that bonded you together.
You breathed out a laugh, your heart overflowing. "Good morning to you too, baby."
You pressed up to nuzzle your nose against his before you both sat down for breakfast.
"Oh, guess what I saw being set up in the park during my run?" Zen said between sips of his smoothie.
You hummed in question, eyebrows raised curiously.
"A farmer's market! Do y—"
"Ooh let's go!" You jumped in your seat, cutting him off before he could even ask.
Zen's eyes became slits as he laughed, the sound bright and airy. "Wonderful! We can get some fresh fruits and veggies, and support the local farmers while we're at it. Mm I can't wait."
You recognized the thoughtful look that had come over his face, the expression of a man dreaming about good food. You giggled and stood up from your half finished breakfast.
"I really want to get some cantaloupe," you said as you all but pranced to the bedroom.
Zen leaned over the table to watch you, confused. "Cantaloupe? Where are you going?"
"I can't very well go in my pajamas, can I?" you called back, not bothering to close the door as you crossed the room to the dresser. "And don't tell me you've never had cantaloupe before."
"Can't say I have."
"Well it's a melon that's kind of white and lacy on the outside and... You know what just look it up."
When you walked back out in proper daytime clothes, you found your husband slurping the last of his smoothie and scrolling on his phone.
"So you know what we're looking for?" you asked, taking a bite from your own discarded breakfast.
"I know what it looks like now, even if I can't spell it right," he grunted, and you stifled your giggle horribly. He quirked a brow at you, but you redirected his attention by looping your arm in his and pulling him to his feet. "Oh, we're going now?"
"Why not?" you tossed him a smile, and he kissed your upturned cheek.
Grabbing your purse, a paper bag, and sunscreen and locking up the apartment, you two were off. However, you didn't make it far before Zen pulled you to a stop.
When he spoke, his tone was high and tight. "Wait, I haven't put on my—"
You held firm to his arm when he tried to pull you back. Putting a hand to his face, you turned him to look back at you. Insecurity flashed in his gaze. As you looked at the beautiful man you loved, your heart swelled and you passed your thumb over his cheek. If only he could see himself the way you saw him.
"Baby you don't need the makeup," you said honestly. "You look wonderful."
"But what if someone recognizes—"
"Zen it's not even seven in the morning," you giggled. "I think the farmers will forgive you if you don't look paparazzi perfect." You could tell he was listening now, really listening. You slid your other hand down his arm to weave your fingers with his. "You really do look wonderful." He knew you never lied.
He hesitated. "Yeah?"
"Mm hmm," you hummed, and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He smiled back down at you, his eyes soft, grateful, and trusting.
"Ready to find some cantaloupe?" you smiled.
"Yes," he nodded with some of his usual vigor. "And I'd like some zucchini too."
"You really liked those muffins my mom made."
"Yes in fact I did!"
You were cackling with glee when you two walked into the large white tent set up in the park.
Zen popped open the paper bag. "Lead the way, milady."
You two made your way slowly through the stalls, talking about the assortment of fruits and veggies both with each other and with the sellers. You shook your head, marveling at how Zen managed to be a good conversationalist with absolutely any topic provided. He listened attentively and with honest interest, and asked curiously about the products he didn't recognize. A time or two he raised his eyebrows at you playfully as a seller went off on a tangent. Your bag soon filled with all sorts of goodies. Zucchini wasn't hard to find, but cantaloupe was a different matter. It was simply bad luck, but you were getting impatient.
Zen must have noticed. With his shoulder he nudged you towards one side of the tent, himself taking a step towards the row of tables in the middle. "You check this way. We have a melon to find," he said with the determination of a man on a mission.
You laughed again, unsure whether he was acting or being genuine. Walking slowly down the row, you scanned the stalls for melons, smiling politely at the sellers as you passed. This was not a very large market, and with growing disappointment, you prepared yourself for the fact that there may not be any cantaloupes here after all. You came across someone who had backed their truck into the tent, the cargo space filled to the brim with watermelons. You paused and asked the seller if they had any cantaloupes for sale, but this endeavor turned out fruitless—quite literally.
Thanking them, you started to turn away when you felt a presence close behind you, accompanied by a hand on your shoulder. You jumped out of instinct, but relaxed when you recognized your husband's touch. White filled your peripheral vision as Zen's face came up next to your own. You caught a glimmer in his red eyes right before his arm came around you. In his hand was a perfect little lacy-white melon, and you squealed.
All at once you spun around, grabbed either side of his face, and planted a kiss somewhere on his lips. Your aim wasn't perfect, but you were too excited to care about a perfect execution.
Zen's laugh turned into a gasp, and he lurched towards you, fumbling with the melon behind your back. After a moment of panic he recovered. "I just found it, don't make me drop it!" He breathed out in relief and gave you a chastising look that you knew was meant to be playful.
You clapped, absolutely giddy at his success. "Way to go, baby; you found one!"
Emboldened by the praise, Zen puffed out his chest, but there was a boyish blush dusting his cheeks, too. "Three, actually. Or at least, that's how many I bought."
You gasped dramatically. "Oh my, how can my Lovely Zen bear that load with such ease?"
"'Tis only a trifle," Zen responded surely. "A man must always be at his best to take care of his princess." He lifted the bag in a couple of curls to prove his point.
You hummed appreciatively watching your husband's rolling muscles.
Zen winked. "Shall we return home to enjoy our spoil?" He held out the elbow of his free arm for you to take.
Gladly you stepped into his side, giving his bicep a quick squeeze for good measure. As you looked up at him, you fully intended on saying something flirtatious in response, but you were once again struck by the beauty of his frosted lashes. They framed a gaze that was confident. He wasn't concerned about the judgement of others; he knew who he was, and in this moment he only saw you.
His laughter broke your thoughts, that weightless sound that you never could get enough of. Then his voice, low and melodic. "Has my beauty left you speechless?"
"Yes. In every way you are lovely, my dear."
His cheeks bloomed at your sincerity. "Thank you," he whispered after a moment.
"Of course," you smiled. "I only speak the truth. Now let's go home, my love. You need to try the deliciousness that is cantaloupe!"
Back at home you wasted no time cracking open the melon. Beneath the pale rind was juicy flesh, orange and bright as a sunrise. Right there at the kitchen counter you speared a bite onto a fork and held it out to your husband. Obediently he opened his mouth and let you feed him. His ruby eyes widened with pleasant surprise.
"Isn't it good?" You popped a bite into your own mouth. Your hum of pleasure turned into a squeak of surprise when his lips unexpectedly came in contact with your own.
He pulled back with a gleam in his eyes. "Delicious."
You lightly swatted his shoulder to cover your blush, and he laughed.