Headshave to love

The breakup hit me like a rogue wave, pulling me under before I even knew what was happening. It wasn’t just the end of a relationship; it felt like the end of me. Everything I thought I knew about myself, about my future, was suddenly… gone. Empty. I was adrift, lost in a sea of grief and anger, desperately searching for something, anything, to cling to. I spent days holed up in my apartment, surrounded by takeout containers and crumpled tissues. Sleep was a battlefield, haunted by memories and regrets. Food was a chore, each bite tasting like ash. My reflection was a stranger, a ghost with swollen eyes and tangled hair. One morning, I woke up with a strange clarity, a desperate yearning for some kind of tangible change. I needed to shed something, to break free from the suffocating weight of my past. My eyes landed on myself in the mirror, specifically my long, dark hair – a symbol of the person I used to be, the person he loved. That's when the idea hit me, a violent, exhilarating jolt. I was going to shave it all off. The thought terrified me, but also filled me with a strange sense of liberation. My hair had always been a part of my identity, a source of pride and feminine energy. To get rid of it all felt like a statement, a declaration of independence from the expectations and baggage that had been holding me back. I knew I couldn't do it myself. The act felt too significant, too raw. I needed a witness, someone to guide me through the process, someone who wouldn't judge. So, I decided to go to a barbershop. The fluorescent lights of "Sharp Cuts" buzzed overhead as I walked in, the scent of shaving cream and aftershave filling my nostrils. It was a small, unassuming shop, the kind you’d find tucked away on a quiet side street. A couple of men sat waiting, flipping through magazines, their faces reflecting the quiet hum of the room. I approached the counter, my heart pounding against my ribs. A woman with short, choppy brown hair and kind eyes looked up at me, a warm smile gracing her lips. "Hi there," she said, her voice gentle. "What can I do for you?" "I… I want to shave my head," I blurted out, the words tumbling out in a rush. Her smile didn't falter. "Okay," she said calmly, as if people requested this all the time. "Take a seat. I'll be with you in a few minutes." I sat down in one of the worn leather chairs, my hands clammy as I waited. The woman, whose name I later learned was Riya, finished with the customer she was working on, carefully dusting his neck with a soft brush. As he left, she turned to me, her eyes filled with genuine curiosity. "So," she said, pulling up a stool in front of me. "Head shave, huh? Big decision." "Yeah," I managed to croak out. "It is." "Mind if I ask why?" I hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. "Just… a fresh start," I mumbled, hoping it was enough. Riya didn't push. "I get it," she said softly. "Sometimes you just need to get rid of the old to make way for the new." She paused, studying my face. "Are you sure about this, though? There's no going back." I took a deep breath, meeting her gaze. "I'm sure." She nodded, a hint of understanding in her eyes. "Alright then. Let's do it." Riya draped a cape around my shoulders, carefully tucking it in at the neck. She then wet my hair, slicking it back against my scalp. The cool water felt soothing against my forehead, a momentary reprieve from the anxiety swirling inside me. She started with the clippers, buzzing away the length of my hair in methodical strokes. The sound was strangely hypnotic, a steady drone that filled the silence of the shop. As the hair fell to the floor, swirling around my feet like fallen leaves, I felt a strange sense of detachment. It was like watching someone else go through this transformation, someone I barely recognized. Once the clippers had done their work, Riya lathered my head with shaving cream, the scent clean and refreshing. She picked up a straight razor, its silver blade gleaming under the fluorescent lights. My heart pounded in my chest. This was it. "Ready?" she asked, her voice calm and reassuring. I closed my eyes and nodded. The first stroke of the razor was surprisingly gentle. I felt the cool metal glide across my scalp, removing the stubble with effortless precision. Riya worked slowly and carefully, her touch light and steady. There was something almost meditative about the process, a quiet intimacy that transcended the act itself. As she shaved, we talked. Not about my breakup, not about my sadness, but about everything else – about her passion for barbering, about her love for her dog, about the quirky regulars who frequented the shop. Her words were like a balm, soothing my frayed nerves and drawing me out of my own head. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she was done. Riya carefully wiped my head with a warm towel, then handed me a mirror. I opened my eyes and looked. My reflection was almost unrecognizable. Gone was the long, flowing hair, replaced by smooth, bare skin. I looked… different. Vulnerable. Raw. But also, strangely powerful. I ran my hand over my newly shaved head, the sensation unfamiliar and exhilarating. It felt… free. Riya watched me, her expression unreadable. "What do you think?" she asked. I swallowed hard, my voice thick with emotion. "I… I love it," I whispered. "Thank you." A soft smile spread across her face. "You're welcome." Then, she did something unexpected. She reached out and gently caressed my shaved head, her fingers tracing the contours of my skull. The touch was electric, sending a shiver down my spine. "It feels amazing," she murmured, her eyes locked on mine. My breath caught in my throat. I don't know what came over me. Maybe it was the vulnerability of the moment, the shared intimacy of the experience, or maybe it was just the simple, unexpected kindness of this woman. But in that moment, I felt a connection with Riya that I couldn't explain. Without thinking, I leaned in and kissed her. It was a tentative kiss, a hesitant exploration. Her lips were soft and warm against mine, and I felt a jolt of electricity surge through my body. She responded, her lips parting slightly, inviting me deeper. We kissed, a slow, deliberate dance of mouths and tongues. Her hand remained on my head, her fingers gently rubbing the smooth skin, sending waves of pleasure through me. I felt tears welling up in my eyes, tears of relief, of gratitude, of… something else. Something I couldn't quite name. We broke apart, breathless and flushed. Riya's eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed. "I… I'm sorry," I stammered, suddenly self-conscious. "I didn't mean to…" She shook her head, her gaze intense. "Don't be," she said softly. "I liked it." We stared at each other for a long moment, the silence thick with unspoken emotions. In that moment, I knew that something had shifted, something had changed. The breakup still hurt, the pain was still there, but it no longer defined me. I had shed the old, and in its place, something new had begun to grow. And maybe, just maybe, it was something beautiful.

Kiss my shaved head

The night before had been one of the loneliest I’d ever experienced. I sat alone in my tiny apartment, the remnants of a half-eaten takeout meal cooling on the table, scrolling through photos of us—smiling, tangled in each other’s arms, plans for the future whispered between laughs. Now, all that felt like someone else’s story. The breakup wasn’t messy, not really. Just a quiet unraveling, the kind that leaves you wondering why you didn’t see it coming. My heart ached with a dull, persistent throb, and my mind spun with all the ‘ifs’ and ‘whys.’ But by morning, I made a decision. I needed to feel some kind of control, something real, and radical enough to mark the end of all this uncertainty. I decided to shave my head. The idea had been swirling around for days, a wild fantasy that mutated from a whim into a necessity. Cutting off my hair wasn’t just about a new look—it was a severing of the past, a shedding of the woman I was before him. Smooth skin against my fingers, raw and exposed, a blank slate. I chose the little barber shop I’d passed countless times but never entered. The rusty sign read ‘Ramu’s Barber Shop’ in faded letters. It was quiet inside, the scent of aftershave mingling with the hum of a ceiling fan. An older man was trimming a customer’s hair; the clippers buzzed rhythmically. I caught his eye and nodded, the gesture enough to communicate my request. “Full shave?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. I nodded. “Take a seat, miss.” As I settled into the worn leather chair, I felt the weight of the moment settle on me. The barber draped a cape over my shoulders with a practiced smile. He lifted the clippers, running them along the sides of my head, the vibrations prickling against my scalp. Then, I saw her. A young woman sitting in the next chair, waiting her turn. She had an edgy vibe—pierced ears, tattoos peeking from beneath her sleeves, and eyes sharp but kind. As the barber finished with me, she caught my gaze and offered a small, encouraging smile. “First time?” she asked, tilting her head. “Yeah. Thought it was time for a change,” I replied, still stroking at the stubble forming on my scalp. Her name was Riya, she said. We slipped into easy conversation while the barber prepared a straight razor. She had a smooth-shaven head herself, radiant in its boldness. I watched as she deftly ran her hand over her scalp, smoothing out the faint stubble like it was a caress. “Shaving your head isn’t just a haircut,” she said softly, as if reading my thoughts. “It’s like an exorcism.” I laughed, a sound catching in my throat. “Exactly why I’m doing this.” When it was my turn for the razor, the barber cleaned off the last bits of hair, carefully dragging the blade over my scalp. The coolness of the metal was sharp against the warmth of my skin, a sensation both alien and exhilarating. And then, I felt it—a gentle touch, a hand over mine. “I can finish it if you want,” Riya whispered. I looked up, surprised by her tenderness. Without waiting for a reply, she took the razor in her hand. Her fingers were steady, and her touch was gentle, almost reverent. She moved with confidence, shaving the last patches of hair smooth. I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the mix of vulnerability and intimacy in the gesture. When she finished, she leaned closer, her breath warm against my ear. “You’re beautiful,” she said sincerely. I opened my eyes, searching hers, and saw no pretense, just an honest connection I hadn’t expected to find in a barbershop on a random Tuesday morning. Without thinking, she reached up, fingers trailing over my bare scalp, her touch sending shivers down my spine. Then, softly, she pressed her lips to my smooth head. The kiss was fleeting but charged with meaning—comfort, acceptance, and something tender I hadn’t realized I craved. Emotion welled up in my chest, a sudden rush that caught me off guard. Tears stung my eyes, but this time, they weren’t from heartbreak. They were from relief. Riya smiled gently, the kind of smile that held promises. Before I knew it, our lips met. The world tilted and spun, but in that moment, wrapped in the warmth of a stranger’s embrace, I found a sliver of hope. Her hand traced circles on my scalp, grounding me, reminding me that breaking away from the past didn’t have to mean being alone. When we finally pulled apart, my reflection in the cracked mirror caught my eye—bald, bare, but infinitely brave. “Looks like your new story is just beginning,” Riya whispered. And for the first time in weeks, I believed her.

I love my shaved head

I still remember the day I walked into that barber shop, my heart heavy with the weight of a recent breakup. My name is Seema, and I had just gone through a messy split with my long-term boyfriend. The pain and sadness were suffocating me, and I didn't know how to cope. As I wandered aimlessly, I stumbled upon the barber shop, and on a whim, I decided to step inside. I had a crazy idea - I wanted to shave my head smooth with a razor. It was a drastic measure, but I felt like it was the only way to erase the memories of my past and start anew. As I entered the shop, I was greeted by the friendly barber, who looked at me with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "What can I do for you?" he asked, eyeing my long hair. I took a deep breath and blurted out my request. "I want to shave my head completely." He raised an eyebrow but nodded professionally. "Okay, let's get started." Just as he was about to begin, a young woman with a pixie cut and a bright smile walked into the shop. "Hey, Raj! I'm here for my appointment," she said, nodding at the barber. He smiled back and said, "Riya, you're just in time. This lady wants to shave her head, and I think you might be more... sympathetic to her cause." Riya's eyes met mine, and I felt a spark of connection. "Hey, I'm Riya," she said, extending her hand. I took it, feeling a jolt of electricity as our palms touched. "I'm Seema," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. Riya's eyes locked onto mine, and I felt like she could see right through to my soul. "So, Seema, you're looking to shave your head?" she asked, her voice gentle. I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. Riya nodded understandingly. "I get it. Sometimes, you just need a change, right?" She smiled, and I felt a sense of calm wash over me. The barber, Raj, stepped aside, and Riya took his place. "Let me do it," she said, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. "I've got a steady hand." As Riya began to shave my head, I felt a sense of trepidation. The cold blade glided across my scalp, and my long locks fell away, one by one. Riya worked with precision, her touch gentle but firm. I closed my eyes, letting the sensation wash over me. It was almost therapeutic. As the shaving continued, I felt a sense of liberation. It was like I was shedding not just my hair but my past, my heartache, and my pain. Riya chatted with me, making small talk, and I found myself opening up to her. She was easy to talk to, and I felt a connection that I couldn't quite explain. When the shaving was done, Riya handed me a mirror. I hesitated for a moment before looking at my reflection. My scalp was smooth, bald, and vulnerable. I felt a pang of emotion as I gazed at my new self. Riya smiled, and I saw a glimmer of something more than friendship in her eyes. "You're beautiful, Seema," she said, her voice low and husky. I felt a flush rise to my cheeks as she reached out and touched my smooth head. Her fingers grazed my scalp, sending shivers down my spine. I looked up at her, and our eyes met in a charged moment. Without warning, Riya leaned in and kissed me. Her lips brushed against my smooth scalp, and I felt a rush of emotion. It was a tender, gentle kiss, but it sent shockwaves through my entire being. I was taken aback, but I didn't pull away. Instead, I found myself responding, my lips parting as I kissed her back. As we kissed, Riya's hand continued to caress my scalp, her fingers tracing the curves of my head. It was a sensual, intimate moment, and I felt myself getting lost in the sensation. I was emotional, my heart still raw from the breakup, but with Riya, I felt a connection that I couldn't ignore. As we broke apart, gasping for air, I looked into Riya's eyes. They sparkled with a mix of attraction and affection. "I'm so sorry," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to... but I couldn't help it." I smiled, feeling a sense of wonder. "It's okay," I replied, my voice equally soft. "I didn't mind." We stood there for a moment, the tension between us palpable. Then, Riya took my hand, and we walked out of the barber shop together, into a bright, uncertain future. I had come to shave my head, but I ended up finding something much more valuable - a connection, a spark, and a sense of possibility. As we walked, I realized that sometimes, the most unexpected moments can lead to the most profound connections. I had walked into that barber shop a broken, heartbroken person, but I walked out with a newfound sense of hope, and a kiss that lingered on my smooth, shaved head.

Yes, shave it smooth!

In the quiet embrace of my apartment, I found myself at a crossroads. The echoes of a recent breakup lingered, each memory a sharp reminder of what once was. Desperate for a change, I sought something more than a new haircut—I craved transformation. The decision was made: I would shave my head. The barber shop, a cozy haven in the heart of the city, welcomed me with familiar comfort. The scent of sandalwood and the hum of clippers created an atmosphere that was both nostalgic and inviting. I hesitated, my heart pounding, as I pushed open the door. Riya, the barber, greeted me with a warm smile. Her eyes, brimming with understanding, put me at ease. "It's a big step," she said gently, leading me to her chair. I nodded, my voice caught in a tangle of emotions. As the buzz of the clippers faded, Riya switched to a razor, her touch precise and comforting. Each stroke was a liberation, strands of hair falling away like shed tears. I closed my eyes, the cool blade gliding smoothly over my scalp, each pass a reminder of renewal. Conversation flowed naturally, a dance of words that bridged our connection. Riya's calm demeanor soothed my anxiety, her questions probing gently into my world. I found myself opening up, sharing fragments of my recent heartache, and she listened with empathetic silence. The moment the razor finished its work, Riya stepped back, her gaze a mix of admiration and affection. "Beautiful," she murmured, her fingers tracing my scalp, sending shivers down my spine. It was a touch that spoke volumes, a connection that transcended words. Her lips met mine in a kiss that was both tender and charged with emotion. The world around us melted away, leaving only the two of us, suspended in a moment of raw vulnerability and connection. As we pulled back, I smiled, a sense of hope I hadn't felt in months blooming within me. Riya's hand rested on my head, a gentle reminder of the transformation, both inside and out. In that moment, I knew I was stepping into a new chapter, one where heartache was just the beginning of a story yet untold. The barber shop door closed behind me, the city streets bustling with life. I walked with a newfound lightness, the world ahead no longer daunting, but full of promise. Bare, both in body and spirit, I was ready to embrace whatever came next.

Baldgirl Headshave experiance

The razor felt cold against my skin, a stark contrast to the burning in my chest. My reflection stared back, a stranger with tear-streaked cheeks and a wildness in her eyes. Seema. The Seema who just hours ago had been clinging to the tattered remnants of a three-year relationship, now reduced to this: a desperate act of self-destruction disguised as liberation. A smooth head. It had been Liam’s favourite thing about me – my long, thick, raven hair. The way it cascaded down my back, the way it smelled of vanilla and sunshine after I’d washed it. Now, it was going. Gone. Erased, like the memories I desperately wished I could erase alongside it. The barber shop smelled of antiseptic and hairspray, a scent that usually soothed me now felt suffocating. I sat in the chair, the worn vinyl cold beneath my jeans. I'd never done anything like this before. My heart pounded a frantic rhythm against my ribs. “Ready?” the barber asked, his voice gruff. He barely glanced at me. Another day, another head. Another broken heart. I nodded, unable to speak. The weight of my unshed tears pressed down, threatening to spill over. I wanted oblivion, a clean slate, a fresh start… even if it meant obliterating the one thing Liam had truly loved about me. Then I saw her. She was standing near the counter, her own hair a vibrant shock of crimson, cut short in a fierce pixie style. She was effortlessly cool, a pair of dark sunglasses perched atop her head, contrasting with a soft, almost shy smile playing on her lips. She radiated an energy that cut through the sterile atmosphere of the barbershop. She looked like she belonged in a band, a powerful one, the kind that makes you shiver. As the barber’s electric clippers buzzed against my scalp, I stole glances at her. She noticed me looking and offered a small, almost hesitant smile. There was something about her eyes, a deep understanding that transcended words. My tear-filled gaze didn't seem to frighten her. When the clippers were finished, the barber held up a handful of my dark hair; a tangible representation of my heartbreak. He gestured to the razor. “Final pass?” This was it. The moment of no return. “Yes,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. He began to shave. The cold steel against my scalp, the slight sting, the feeling of my hair disappearing… it felt strangely liberating. A strange sort of peace settled over me, a quiet acceptance. “It’s… beautiful,” the woman said softly, her voice cutting through the silence. She had approached unnoticed. I blinked, startled. She was even more striking up close. Her eyes, the same shade as her hair, were captivating; pools of molten crimson. “I… I’m Riya,” she said, extending a hand. Her touch was surprisingly gentle. “Seema,” I replied, my voice still shaky, offering my hand back. She looked at my smooth-shaven head. “It suits you,” she said, her gaze lingering on my face. “It really does.” There was something about her genuine admiration, something that brushed away the layers of self-loathing I’d been carrying. As she talked about her own reasons for preferring short hair – practical, rebellious, self-expressive – I found myself opening up to her, confessing my heartbreak, my impulsive act of self-mutilation. She listened patiently, never interrupting, her crimson gaze fixed on me with an intensity that both surprised and comforted me. There was a vulnerability in her eyes, a knowingness that hinted at similar struggles, similar battles fought and won. Then, she did something unexpected. She gently touched my shaved head, her fingers tracing the contours of my skull. The touch, so simple yet unexpectedly intimate, sent a shiver down my spine. “It’s… smooth,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers continued their exploration, a gentle caress, and then she leaned forward, her lips brushing softly against mine. The kiss was brief, yet electrifying. It wasn’t a kiss of pity, not a kiss born of sympathy. It was a kiss of understanding, of acceptance, of a shared humanity that transcended the pain we both carried within our hearts. When she pulled away, her fingers still running across my scalp, I felt something shift within me. The hollow ache in my chest began to ease. The tears that had welled up earlier were no longer tears of sorrow, but tears of release, of unexpected joy. She kissed me again, and this time, it was longer, deeper, filled with a passion I hadn't expected, couldn't have predicted. She held my head in her hands, her thumbs gently stroking my shaved scalp, and I let myself melt into her arms, comforted by the feel of her hands, her body, her love. In the sterile environment of a barber shop, surrounded by the scent of antiseptic and hairspray, I found something unexpectedly beautiful: a connection, a spark, a new beginning. A love born from the ashes of heartbreak, built on the smooth canvas of my freshly shaved head. Liam might have loved my long hair, but Riya loved me. And that, more than anything, filled the void he had left behind.

Headshave after effect

I am not a professional story writer, but I will do my best to create a story based on your prompt. I woke up that morning feeling like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders. My heart was heavy, and my mind was consumed with thoughts of my recent breakup. I couldn't bear the idea of going to work or facing anyone I knew, so I decided to do something drastic. I picked up the phone and called the local barbershop. As I walked into the shop, I felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over me. I had never been in a barbershop before, let alone asked a stranger to shave my head. But I was determined to make a change, to start anew. The barber, Riya, looked at me with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "What can I do for you today?" she asked. "I want you to shave my head," I replied, trying to sound more confident than I felt. Riya raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. She wrapped a cape around me and got to work. As she ran the clippers over my head, I felt a sense of relief. Each strand of hair that fell to the ground felt like a weight being lifted off my shoulders. When Riya was finished, she handed me a mirror. I looked at my reflection and barely recognized myself. My head was smooth and bare, and my eyes looked brighter and more alert. I felt like a new person. As I was paying, Riya asked me why I had decided to shave my head. I hesitated for a moment, then decided to be honest. "I just went through a tough breakup, and I wanted to do something drastic to start over," I said. Riya's face softened. "I understand," she said. "Sometimes we need to make a big change to move forward." We fell into easy conversation after that, talking about everything from our favorite books to our dreams and aspirations. I was surprised to find myself opening up to this stranger, but something about Riya made me feel comfortable and at ease. As I was leaving, Riya reached out and gently ran her hand over my smooth head. "You look beautiful," she said, with a soft smile. I felt a jolt of electricity run through my body at her touch. I looked into her eyes and saw something there that I couldn't quite put my finger on. Without thinking, I leaned in and kissed her. Riya's eyes widened in surprise, but then she kissed me back, her hand still resting on my head. The kiss was soft and gentle, but it sent a wave of emotion through me. I felt a connection to Riya that I couldn't explain, a sense of understanding and acceptance. When we pulled away, we both looked at each other, our faces flushed. "I'm sorry," I said, feeling self-conscious again. But Riya just shook her head. "Don't be," she said. "I've been wanting to do that all day." We exchanged numbers before I left, promising to keep in touch. As I walked back to my apartment, I felt a sense of excitement and possibility that I hadn't felt in a long time. Over the next few weeks, Riya and I spent more and more time together. We went on long walks, explored the city, and talked for hours about our lives and experiences. I had never felt so seen and understood by anyone before. One night, as we were sitting on my couch watching a movie, Riya reached out and started rubbing my smooth head. It felt like a electric current was running through my body, and I couldn't help but lean into her touch. Without thinking, I turned to face her and kissed her again. This time, the kiss was deeper and more passionate. I felt a sense of longing and desire that I had never felt before. Riya responded with equal intensity, her hands running through my hair and down my back. I felt like I was melting into her, like we were two pieces of a puzzle that had finally found their place. As we pulled away, we both looked at each other, our breaths heavy. "I think I'm falling in love with you," Riya said, her voice barely above a whisper. I felt a sense of joy and relief wash over me. "I think I'm falling in love with you too," I replied. From that moment on, Riya and I were inseparable. We spent every moment together, exploring the world and each other. I had never felt so alive, so happy, and so fulfilled. And as I looked at my reflection in the mirror, I couldn't help but smile. My smooth head was a symbol of the change I had made, the new beginning I had created for myself. But it was also a symbol of something more: the love and connection I had found with Riya. A love that was deep, passionate, and true. A love that I knew would last a lifetime.

Headshave Flirt

My name is Seema. It's been a month since my boyfriend Raj broke up with me. We were together for five amazing years. I thought he was the one. But then he left me, out of the blue, for someone else. It shattered my world. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. All I could do was cry and scream at the unfairness of it all. Thirty days had passed but the pain felt fresh as ever. My long dark hair had once been my pride, my crowning glory. But now it just felt like a burden, a reminder of Raj. A part of me, of us. So I finally made the drastic decision. I was going to shave my head. Completely bald. Smooth as a baby's bottom. I wanted to rid myself of the past, to become someone new. Someone Raj would never recognize. I walked into the barber shop with trembling hands. It was empty, a blessing. I approached the counter and told the barber, a pretty woman with kind eyes and short spiky hair, "I want you to shave my head. Razor to the scalp. No stubble." She looked up at me, concerned. "Are you sure? It'll take time to regrow." "I'm positive," I replied, voice shaking but determined. "I want a change." She nodded slowly. "Okay. Please have a seat." The barber's name was Riya, she told me as she began. I watched in the mirror, emotions swirling, as she sectioned my hair into clips. Then she picked up the razor. I squeezed my eyes shut. The first swipe was the weirdest sensation, like a kiss of cold metal against my scalp. It felt alien yet exhilarating. Riya worked in silence, her dexterous hands gliding along my head. With each pass, I felt lighter, freer. When she finished, I opened my eyes. I barely recognized the woman in the mirror. My dark locks were gone. In their place was a canvas of smooth, hairless skin. I turned my head from side to side, marveling at this new me. Tears pricked my eyes. "It's...I love it," I whispered. Riya smiled, looking pleased. "You're beautiful, bald suits you." Her brown eyes sparkled as they met mine. I paid, a giddy energy filling me. But I lingered. Riya and I chatted about hair, life, everything. A connection bloomed between us, natural and easy. I found myself laughing, really laughing, for the first time in weeks. "Thank you," I said softly as I prepared to leave. "You have no idea how much this means to me." Riya looked at me, her gaze tender. "You're welcome, Seema. I'm so glad I could help." Then slowly, she raised a hand to my bare head. I stilled, hardly daring to breathe. She rubbed her palm over my smooth scalp and I shivered at the sensation. "Your head feels amazing," Riya murmured. She bit her lip, looking at me through her lashes. "I wasn't expecting it but...I think I really like you, Seema. The real you." My heart pounded. "I...I like you too," I admitted shyly. "So much." Riya leaned in then. Our lips met, soft and sweet. I cupped her face, kissing her deeper, pouring my emotion into it. My fingers found her hair, delighting in the short spiky strands. Riya groaned and kissed me harder. Her hand slid down to grip my smooth head, massaging my scalp and sending tingles through me. We kissed until we were breathless, until I was dizzy with want. I pulled back, panting. "I want to see you again," I breathed. "Please say yes." Riya smiled, stroking my head. "Yes. God yes." We traded numbers and I floated out of the shop on a cloud of happiness. My heart felt full to bursting. I didn't know what would happen between Riya and me. But for the first time in a long time, I was excited for the future. Because I had found myself. A new self. And I had found her.