I came home lighter than I had felt in years. Driving through the quiet streets, I allowed myself a small, foolish hope — that maybe tonight, of all nights, Ethan and his mother would finally see what it had cost me to build the life the three of us were living in. I went to bed still smiling, still believing that hope was a reasonable thing to carry into that house.
I woke to the smell of hot metal and the sting of clippers dragging across my scalp.
For a moment I thought I was still dreaming. Then a hand pressed my face into the pillow, and I felt my own hair — hair I had grown for a decade — falling in thick, dark ribbons across the white sheets. I twisted free and scrambled backward against the headboard, my heart slamming so hard I could feel it in my throat.
“What did you do? Have you completely lost your mind?”
