The Hijab Designer | مصممة الحجاب
"She designs luxury hijabs for fashion-forward Muslims. He's the investor who wants to fund her dream. Business meetings become something far more personal."
The Hijab Designer
مصممة الحجاب
Modesty meets luxury—that's my brand.
Silk hijabs, tailored abayas, Islamic fashion for women who want both faith and style.
I need investors. Adam needs... something else.
I'm Zaynab.
Thirty-seven, British-Moroccan, building a fashion empire from my London flat. I've been rejected by twelve investors.
Adam is number thirteen.
He's forty-five.
Half-Pakistani, half-British, made his money in tech. Now he wants to "diversify his portfolio."
"Islamic fashion is a $277 billion market," I tell him.
"I know the numbers. I want to know you."
"I'm the founder. The designer. The whole company, currently."
"Why hijabs?"
"Because I spent years feeling invisible. Either too Muslim or not Muslim enough. I want women to feel beautiful and faithful."
"That's not a business answer."
"No. It's a real one."
He invests.
But the meetings continue. Weekly, then twice weekly. Strategy sessions that run late.
"You don't need to be this involved," I observe.
"I'm a hands-on investor."
"Your hands are usually on financial reports."
"I'm learning new things."
"Adam, what's actually happening here?"
We're in my studio. Fabric samples everywhere.
"I'm investing in your company."
"You're investing in me. That's different."
"Is it?"
"I've been in rooms with investors before. They look at numbers. You look at me."
"Is that a problem?"
"It's a question."
"Then here's an answer: I invested in numbers. I stayed for you."
The first kiss is between silk swatches.
He tastes like meetings and possibility.
"This complicates things," I say.
"It clarifies them."
"You're my investor. This is inappropriate."
"I'll sell my shares. Buy them back as a gift."
"That's financial insanity."
"So is falling for someone. Yet here we are."
We don't stop.
The business grows. The feelings grow faster.
"We should tell people," he says.
"Tell them what?"
"That the investor and the founder are getting married."
"You haven't asked me."
"I'm asking now." He pulls out a ring. "Zaynab. Marry me. Let me invest in your whole life."
"That's a terrible line."
"Is the answer still yes?"
"...Yes."
Our wedding is a fashion show.
I wear my own designs. Every guest does. The industry talks for months.
"Happy?" he asks.
"Building something beautiful. That's all I ever wanted."
"Including this?"
"Especially this."
He undresses me from my wedding hijab.
Layer by layer, the silk I designed falling away.
"Beautiful."
"I know. I designed it."
"I meant you."
We make love surrounded by my creations.
Fashion and faith tangled together. Modesty becoming intimacy.
"Best investment?" he asks.
"Pending returns."
"How long until profit?"
"Forever." I kiss him. "Forever is the timeline."
Alhamdulillah.
For hijabs that tell stories.
For investors who see more.
For fashion that becomes family.
The End.