Halfway through, she almost laughed—out of disbelief more than humor.

She hadn’t planned for it to feel this real.

Sitting in the salon chair, draped in a striped cape, Ananya stared at her reflection. Her hair—thick, dark, familiar—framed her face like it always had. It was part of how she recognized herself. Part of how everyone else did too.

“Are you sure?” the stylist asked gently, fingers already sectioning her hair.

Ananya hesitated—but only for a second.

“Yes.”

The clippers buzzed to life.

At first, it was just a sound. Loud, steady, impossible to ignore. Then came the first pass.

A strip of scalp appeared.

Her eyes widened slightly, instinctively darting upward as if she could catch the moment her identity changed. Loose strands slid down the cape and into her lap. She swallowed.

This was happening.

Halfway through, she almost laughed—out of disbelief more than humor. One side of her head was nearly bare, smooth and pale, while the other still held onto the old version of her. It looked strange. Uneven. Incomplete.

“Too late to go back now,” she muttered.

The stylist smiled, continuing carefully.

With each stroke, more hair fell away. The weight she didn’t even realize she carried began to disappear. But it wasn’t just physical.

Memories surfaced.

The compliments.
The bad hair days.
The time she cried after a bad haircut.
The way she used to hide behind her hair when she felt unsure.

All of it—falling, piece by piece.

When the razor replaced the clippers, she tensed. The sensation was new—cool, close, intimate. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, scrunching her face as the final layers were removed.

Then… silence.

“It’s done.”

Ananya opened her eyes slowly.

For a moment, she didn’t recognize herself.