Mira had always been known for her hair. Thick, black, flowing like a river of midnight—it was the crown she never asked for but one everyone admired. Compliments followed her like shadows, and over time, she began to feel as if her worth was somehow tied to each strand.
But life has a way of testing attachments. After months of inner battles, Mira walked into a small salon with walls painted in fading red. She sat down, hands trembling slightly as she looked at her reflection. The barber asked her twice if she was sure. She only nodded.
The first swipe of the clippers sent a shockwave through her body. Locks fell in clumps onto the striped cape. She watched herself transform in real-time, from the girl everyone expected her to be into someone she barely recognized. Her heart raced, but her eyes stayed steady.
When the last strand fell, Mira touched her bare scalp. For the first time in years, she felt light. Vulnerable, yes—but also free. There was a mischievous smile waiting at the edges of her lips, one that slowly grew when she placed a hair tie on her head just to laugh at the irony.
