That couple in that cafe

She bumps her head against the faulty sliding doors in the cafe. The husband, a charming Arab man in her 40s, takes her by the arm and walks with her towards the table. They sit down. She is wearing a hijab. The husband holds her hand. She tilts her shoulders slightly to the front. He whispers something to her, probably "are you ok?". She nods, timidly. Not because of him, because of the people in the cafe looking at "the Arab couple". He is the definition of the classic man, the one we all want, even radical [heterosexual] feminists, secretly. He knows where his place is as a man, takes care of her woman, respects her and is protective of her, but not in a patronising or possessive way. No, he would kill for her, but he trusts her, knows her love is real and sees her as a whole human being. He can be tough and seem unsentimental sometimes, but that's only from the outside, she knows he isn't cold hearted. She sees him and he sees her.