EMMA'S POV
The salon smelled of lavender and hairspray, a mix that weirdly calmed me. My irritation began to melt away the moment I stepped inside.
“Ah, there she is!” chirped the stylist, a woman with perfectly gelled red hair and a smile that could outshine the sun. “Come, darling, let’s have a look at you!”
I barely had time to settle into the chair before she began fussing over me, her fingers quickly fluffing and smoothing my hair.
I sat quietly staring straight at the mirror quietly until she was done.She tilted her head dramatically in front of me, as though she were critiquing a masterpiece.
“Oh, honey, this cut is everything! Look at you! Just gorgeous,” she gushed, spinning me slightly so I could see myself from multiple angles.
I managed a polite smile, my reflection mimicking the same polite enthusiasm I didn’t quite feel even though I was glad I looked pretty. “Thank you,” I murmured.
The stylist leaned closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. “So, who’s the l
