Rhea Ripley Haircut Mga Nobela at Kwento

On a day like this where she needed all her attention and wits about her, the last thing she wanted to worry about was her hair. “Yes ma’am.” The makeup artist who had paused, continued, using only the most neutral colours on her face. They were done in no time. Her hair was simple but gorgeous. Braids that looked like a fishing net started from both the right and left side of her front edges, and connected to the low bun at the nape of her neck. “Thank you.” Racheal said, just as Steffan stepped into the room. The team nodded, packed up their things and left.

Four women were getting their hair cut, one was getting her hair dried and the last one was getting her hair washed. "Rita." Ziggy walked the middle row to a woman who wasn’t doing anything. Her hair was pure black, cut in a sassy way and she has a setting green eyes. She was beautiful. "She needs something to compliment the dress.” Ziggy said. "Alright.” Rita stepped closer and began pulling at the strands of Ria’s hair gently. "When was the last time you had a proper treatment and haircut?" "I don't remember.” Ria replied sharply. She doesn’t want to go down the lane of when she was blind and she didn't have the chance to visit the salon. She just washed her hair in the shower.

“She’s building a cult.” “I’m seriously considering asking the hospital for a refund,” I muttered. “Ponytail done,” Rhea announced. I checked the mirror. Poppy’s long hair was now pulled into a slightly crooked high ponytail—dramatic enough for someone who couldn’t read fluently yet. Her bangs still covered half her forehead like a tiny curtain, doing absolutely nothing to hide the fact that the face beneath it was a miniature replica of someone I’d very much like to pretend wasn’t on the same continent.

“Hi, I’m Rieka! You must be Gina, right?” She’s gorgeous! About 5’ 9” with light tawny skin and long honey brown hair that falls in layers from her face down to her hips. She could easily be a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model, or a Victoria’s Secret Angel. “Yes, I’m Gina. So nice to finally meet you.” Even her voice sounds sensual and smooth. Although her look is totally different, something about her reminds me of Drea.

We did not want to risk anyone looking too closely as to what made things different. “Voilà,” I said and turned Rhea towards the mirror. She gasped when she saw herself, eyes widening as she took in her entire look. This look definitely suited her quite well. A pair of black skinny jeans with rips along her thighs. It was paired with a silver long-sleeve blouse that had cutouts on her shoulders and perfectly fit her curves. Hair was styled in waves and hung down her back. Makeup was kept simple. Black eyeliner, mascara, a smokey eye that made her seafoam eyes pop, and a simple gloss.

Before I could finish, she cut me off rudely, "How do you still have the nerve to call me? Do you know I've become the laughingstock among my classmates because of you? Don't ever contact me again. A shameless guy like you isn't fit to be my brother!" And before I could reply, she hung up. When I tried to call back, I found she had already blocked my number. The fever dulled my reactions. I stared at the phone for a long time, still wondering what to do, when a notification chimed. It was from someone on my follow list. Hadrian had posted something. My finger moved before my brain caught up, and I opened the post out of habit. "The photos leaked of Scott Sterling point to his personal indisc

CHAPTER 5 TELL As Ria stood at the locker, her tired eyes scanned her lifeless phone screen, longing for any sign of connection or excitement. Her long, auburn hair was tied up in a messy bun, revealing a few loose strands framing her pale face. The fluorescent lights of the locker room cast an unflattering glow on her features, highlighting the dark circles under her eyes. Her cute apron, adorned with coffee stains and crumbs, hung loosely off her this frame. It was a reminder of the long hours she had spent on her feet.

disbelief washed through me Is that what's been whispering to me? I thought. I must be dreaming. What am I… Medusa? Still unsure if the voice was real or just in my head, I began searching the room for a blade, scissors__ anything sharp enough to cut my hair. I found nothing. I moved to my closet, digging through the drawers. There, nestled neatly inside one, was a small pair of scissors. I grabbed it without hesitation and raised it to my head. My heart pounded with a mix of fear and adrenaline. Still, I didn’t stop. I dug deeper into my thick strands, and with one exhale, I cut off a chunk of the front part of my hair.

From the moment I had first met her, her hair had been messily dyed to resemble the hue of freshly spilled blood or a pint of vibrant red paint splattered across her head. Rylee's appearance was a striking display of her rebellious nature. Pierced brows, nose, ears, and even her lower lip adorned her face, while her hands were adorned with spiky, gold, and beaded bracelets, six out of her ten fingers ringed. Her piercings extended to her nipples and belly button as well, further emphasizing her bold and unconventional style.

“This is—this isn’t a formal visit.” They sit. I remain standing. Too nervous to sit. “Is Rhea here?” I ask. “I’ll get her.” Rica stands. Goes to the stairs. “Rhea! Prince Ryker is here!” A pause. Then footsteps above us. Rhea appears at the top of the stairs. She’s wearing simple clothes—jeans and a sweater. Her hair is down. No makeup. She’s beautiful. Our eyes meet. Something passes between us. Complicated. Unresolved.