Fantasia Hairstyles 2023 Novels & Stories

said Hunza. Hania trimmed her hair and it looked so soft and fresh. “Here, look,” said Hania. She opened her eyes. “Whoa, they are amazing, you got magic in your fingers,” said Hunza. “Whoa, I never knew that my hair could look this much beautiful,” said Saliha. “Now, makeover,” said Hunza. “What, no,” said Saliha. “Come on, we will show them we can do it better,” said Hania, annoyed.

— Okay, Rúbia I’m confirmed at her Happy Hour. Isabel, Lucia, Paloma, Rúbia, Laura, Raquel, Alba and me. These were the women who caught the bar people’s attention with their laughter and sharp tongues. To be honest, I don’t remember when was the last time I went out with several women to chat and drink for nothing, and I’m feeling great about it. Observing these girls I notice that they are very similar physically, almost as if they had been made in the same way: fleshy lips achieved through the aesthetic procedure, harmonized roso, silicone breasts, and with remodeling lipo. What changed was her hair. Isabel was blonde too but had short hair that made sure to leave with waves. Paloma alrea

Monalisa POV. I fluffed my hair with my fingers, the curls bouncing over my shoulders as I stepped out of my cab. Today was Saturday and I was returning from the salon after getting a makeover. My stylist, Fiona, was an expert at what she did. She owned a big beauty shop with various sections for women's complete makeover. She'd turned my straight black hair into wavy, long curls, adding some purple and red highlights at the end to make it look like a dark, blooming flame.

“Zoya—” They hit her like the weather. Both arms, both of them, overlapping and entirely unbothered about it. She laughed — the real one, the unguarded one — before she could stop it. “You cut your hair,” Shayla said, immediately pulling back to look. “Is that a crime?” “It’s illegal.” “What is it with you people? Faiyaz already said that.” “Because it is,” Farisa said. “It looks illegal. In a good way for your ego.”

' 'No wonder she needs to make her assistant look plain. 'Even if you look like a doll, you cannot compare to a literal fairy, like Lia.' After finishing Cecilia's makeup look, she fixed Cecilia's hair. Her curly auburn hair was long and healthy, reaching Cecilia's waist. "What style do you like for your hair?" Cecilia took a bedazzled purple barrette clip from her purse and passed it to Sheila. "Maybe just a half-up, half-down hairstyle. And can you use this clip?"

"Tonight, you're the most beautiful bride, Sophie." The bright red stood out sharply against my pale skin. Then, Max switched off the lights and put an eye mask over my head. "It's dark…" I whispered, gulping. With my sight gone, every other sensation felt heightened. I felt like I could barely breathe in my tight wedding dress. Before I knew it, the elegant fabric was being stripped away. Something slick was brushing lightly against me. Then, I heard Max's voice. "Sophie, take a guess whose this is."

She preferred a secret, private life anyway — an identity no one in this house truly knew. She took out her car keys and drove to the salon. She needed a better look for the woman who was about to seduce the right people and burn everything down. “How do you want it?” the hairstylist asked. “The usual curls, right?” “No,” Fidelia said firmly. “I don’t want the curls anymore.” The stylist looked shocked, but Fidelia didn’t care. She wanted long, sexy hair. Confident. Powerful. When she opened her eyes again, a beautiful, fierce woman stared back from the mirror. For the first time in a long time, Fidelia smiled at her own reflection.

Her hair was tied up in a high ponytail, with a few stray curls framing her face, and she wore a dainty silver necklace with a small heart charm that bounced with every step. Lena’s style was effortlessly bold yet minimalist. She wore a fitted black jumpsuit with cut-out shoulders, paired with sleek combat boots that made her appear both stylish and intimidating. Her low-cut hairstyle only added to her fierce, confident look, and her hazel eyes sparkled with a mischievous gleam. She was understated, powerful—a perfect balance to Cassidy’s brightness.

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.

Alison shot back, chin lifted. “Oh, sweet girl, everyone has a bad side.” The laughter that followed was easier, genuine this time. It felt good. From there, we moved into the next room where stylists were waiting. “They’ll be styling our hair in the Fiji way,” Lady Celeste announced with excitement, like she’d been waiting all day for this. Alison raised a brow. “Fiji way?” “It’s beautiful,” Lady Celeste promised. “Lots of braids, lots of texture. Very intricate.”