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“Why do you have my scrunchie on your wrist?”
“Hmm?” Zayne followed your gaze to the green scrunchie around his wrist. Without realizing it, this had become second nature to him, to wear a hair tie of yours—or in this particular case, a scrunchie—around his wrist, a subtle presence of yours that accompanied him even when you were physically away from him. He smiled when he heard his number called from behind the food counter.
Once he had retrieved the tray with two steaming bowls of noodles, he set them at your table. Before he sat down, he walked to behind your seat, surprising you, but that curiosity quickly dashed away, leaving in its wake a knowing smile when you felt his hands gathered your hair, wrapping his large hands around the long tresses as he smoothed it out before he secured your hair in a low ponytail.
“For you, my love,” he answered simply, returning to his seat across from you.
You didn’t know it at the time—and neither did Zayne—but years down the road, this familiar scene would repeat, and he would find himself responding similarly, but only this time, it was to the miniature version of yourself.
“Daddy, why do you have a hair tie on your wrist?”
Zayne smiled as his only daughter leaned across his thigh, pointing at the thin band on his wrist. She had the same length of hair as her mother, going down her back. Being only five, however, the girl hadn’t picked up on taking care of her hair yet, and with two active older brothers, she often found herself tagging along with their mischievousness.
Carefully, Zayne’s long fingers threaded through his daughter’s disheveled hair, gently combing out knots. He made a quiet note to himself to keep a spare comb and hair brush in his desk drawer for the future, but for now his fingers would suffice.
The girl peered up curiously, the perfect image of her mother but with her father’s brilliant hazel eyes instead. Zayne gathered the girl’s hair, smoothing out the long locks, and with practiced ease, he tied her hair into a high ponytail, marveling at her innocence as she playfully shook her head back and forth, giggling at the way her ponytail swung along.
“For you, sweetheart,” he answered, pressing a long kiss to his daughter’s cheek and cherishing her giggles.