Romantic Haircut Stories の小説・ストーリー

Richmond went and hugged Cooper with tears in his eyes. Everyone misjudged Cooper in the beginning, but it was obvious that no one really knew the amount of love he had in his heart for Rosie. “This is what I should have done for her. No one can make her happy like you do, but I will shave my hair too.” Cooper pulled away from the hug, but his hands rested on Richmond’s shoulders. “Don’t. Your girlfriend might not like it,” he said seriously, wondering why everyone wanted to shave their hair because of him.

I went to the bath to wash my hair so it would be easier for Louis to cut it. “How short do you want me to cut it?” He asks as I sat on a chair in front of a mirror. “Just here, right below my chin.” I tell him, putting my hand at the length where my bob cut used to be. “Here goes nothing.” He says and shrugs before cutting my hair. I watch the strands fall as he goes snip snip snip. “Girls,” he says, shaking his head. “What?” I asked him. “Did you break up with someone or something?” He says. “You girls would always get a haircut whenever you make a major life decision.”

All my life I had always been this pretty weak girl with long hair, but in this new life, I wanted something different, I wanted to be stronger and my kid should know me as a strong woman. “Are you sure?” he asked, and I dragged a pair of scissors that was sitting at his table. Without thinking, I placed it on my hair, cut my hair from the root, and watched Leo and Wick gasp. “That's how sure I am,” I smiled. Wick took me into a room in the shop and started cutting my hair. “I want pixie curls on it just like Donna, and I want my hair red,” I said and he nodded. “So why did you run away from home?” he asked, it seemed like Wick liked to poke nose, but I didn't see a reason not to tell him.

It gave him morbid pleasure to discover that Aaron Condor, The Casanova of Caines, still had it. Aria had gone out to get a haircut that morning, just when Aaron was getting used to the hair too. He decided it was in fact the hair that he didn't like. When he saw her again the day after meeting her, he went right up to her and pulled her hair out of the rigid ponytail she had it in and let it fall down onto her shoulders. As her hair spilled down, Aaron had to admit she was more than striking. She was gorgeous. He almost never changed his mind about these things.

he asked sarcastically. I carefully looked at his hair, which was very different. He had quite a unique haircut that was styled into a high ponytail that extended down his back. The sides of his head were shaved, with a sharp, defined line running parallel to the shaved area, giving a clean, edgy contrast to the longer hair on top.

Zayle was a mess as he cried, trying to fight the chains holding him back. Turning, I took a deep breath. Shrugging off my coat, I dropped it onto the floor next to me. I looked at one of the knights and smiled at him. “Will you do me a favor?” He looked nervously at me. Pulling my hair out of my pony tail, I leaned forward and pulled it tight as close to my head as I could. “Do you mind cutting this with your sword? I don’t have any scissors.” The knight took a moment before unsheathing his sword and the sound of my hair getting chopped filled the silence. Dropping it on the floor, I ruffled my now short hair.

My long hair spilled down my back like a dark waterfall, a stark contrast to the somber attire I was slipping into. Suddenly, an unexpected urge washed over me. I strode to my dresser, opening a drawer and retrieving a pair of scissors. My hair had always been an emblem of my identity—the Rogue King who defied tradition and expectation. Yet, in this moment, I wanted to signify something deeper to Aria. I wanted her to understand that she was far more than just a mate to me; she was my everything. With a resolve that surprised even me, I brought the scissors to my hair and began to snip away. The strands fell silently to the floor around my feet, each snip a deliberate act of transformation.

I said, pointing at her shirt. She rolled her eyes before answering me, "I have a date after work." "And you didn't tell me?" I asked, pouting. I grabbed her small comb and tidied my hair a bit, although I knew my hair would be messed up again by the wind when we left the restaurant. Three days ago, Lana made me cut my hair; she found my previous hair too boring. So now, my auburn hair, which is ten times better than before, is three centimeters shorter, layered, and has a few highlights.

In the end, I was quite happy I had listened to reasoning. Everyone in the salon behaved like a family. The hairstylist knew everything about everyone. No one was shy to share their life stories. Once they found out I was getting ready for a date, everyone came alive. The hairstylist knew right away what hairdo would be perfect for me. The other women around us were inclined to share their experiences of first dates and first real dates.