Novel & Cerita Bleached Hair Turned Orange

“Orlando…Oh! God…” I had to see her flushed face. It gave me a sense of satisfaction to see her half-closed eyes. Her now jet black hair, highlighted with purple and blue, stood out against the white sheets. They were two of my favorite colors and it suited her better. She looked exotic, with her mouth slightly open, teeth biting her lower lip as her manicured fingers dug into my biceps.

It was a few hours to the ball and I was getting myself ready. I’d decided I wanted to look totally different so I decided to dye my hair. I had ordered some products and following the instructions, I mixed them and applied them to my hair. I also watched an instructional video online. After about 20-25 minutes, I stood in front of the bathroom sink, my hair covered in a messy blob of bleach. As I rinsed out the bleach, I watched in horror as chunks of my hair fell out. I had been going for a subtle blonde, but it seemed I had gotten the mixture all wrong.

His fingertips moving on my scalp felt like heaven. “Wow!!”I said as I looked at the color of my hair after Mr Louis was done washing and drying it. The bleaching turned our prefect. The honey brown color fit my face and my skin, it boosted my confidence. Ahh ahh. He laughed. That is not all Mrs Arya. He said, smiling at me. There's more?” I asked, laughing.

I yelled after the steam cleared from my eyes. "Sorry," she said, and the water became cold, soothing the scalding sensation I had felt earlier. Thirty minutes later, and after several washes using vinegar, baking soda, and a coconut-smelling shampoo, my hair was mostly back to its original color. Even though it was still wet, I could see the red, albeit darker. "I don't think it will go back to the exact color it was," I said as I fingered the dark burgundy locks. "It might be a bit darker," she said as she dropped a towel on my head.

"The color is supposed to be stubborn because you didn't apply oil. You see. The Color wasn't very stubborn on me because I applied oil" A growl left from his mouth as she began to rub his hair dry. "It's okay. Maybe tomorrow another head bath might help. Don't fret". "Don't fret. My blond hair was literally bleached". "Don't exaggerate. The color will go tomorrow ". " If it doesn't you'll be dead, finish Adhri". " How was it my mistake ". " I don't know but you'll work on it". He grunted as she pouted at him. " I'm still angry at you. Don't forget you a week late. a week late".

I touch it and on looking at my hand, I find that I'm bleeding. I look in horror at the blood on my fingers, and quickly get up to go check the cause of the bleeding in the mirror. As my eyes meet my image in the mirror, a loud scream exits my throat. My hair! My hair has turned white. Full of shock, I run my bloody fingers under the tap, using some of the water to wipe my hair, in hopes that the change of color is just a figment of my imagination. Nothing changes, but I continue to rub on my hair frantically, not realizing when I start yanking on it.

“Convenient for him, isn’t it? His troublesome wife slips out of the picture just as he’s settling down with his true mate.” Clara resumed working on my hair. “We still don’t know that for sure, Alpha.” “We don’t know otherwise, either.” We fell silent after that. Clara continued bleaching my hair, section by section, until my entire head was covered. Then came the waiting, followed by rinsing, toning, and more waiting. Finally, after what felt like hours, Clara washed the last of the chemicals from my hair and dried it. When I looked in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. My once raven-black hair was now an almost white blonde. It made my gray eyes look pale and empty, and it didn’t fee

I spun toward the small dressing mirror by the wall. What I saw made my knees weaken. “What?” The word fell from my lips like a whisper. There it was. Clear as daylight. Green. My hair. My precious blue hair, the color I had known since birth, was streaked with sparkling green. Thin at first, then deeper as it spread through the strands like wildfire. The glow of it shimmered faintly under the light, unnatural, alive. “No, no, no…” My fingers clawed at it as if rubbing hard could wipe the color away. But it stayed, brighter with every touch.

They worked in silence, the only sound the gentle rustling of hair against fabric and the occasional splash of water. Once her hair was thoroughly detangled, the maids began the delicate process of fixing it. They wove the strands together, creating an intricate ombre effect that blended seamlessly from dark ebony at the roots to a soft, silvery white at the tips. The final touch was a loose braid that hung down her back, its ends tied with a simple ribbon. The effect was stunning—her hair seemed to shimmer with its own inner light, complementing her pale skin and accentuating the sharp angles of her face.

And when I hit my first billion, the worry of losing it all left. Now all I can think about is her. Her red hair, her hazel eyes rimmed in gold that has a deep red tint. I looked it up needing to know if it was contacts or if it's natural. It seems that it is natural. Pheomelanin it's called. It causes the red-orange color. It also seems to have been the cause of her red hair. Ugh that red hair. I have never once been a fan of redheads. But hers? Makes me want to wrap my fist around it.