Emily
Mike and Lily lived in the same town and occasionally passed each other on the street. Mike admired her gentle beauty and the look in her eyes that held a secret.
“She’s so sweet,” he always thought. His affection grew stronger by the day, but something kept him from taking the next step. All he could do was gaze at her. It felt as if she had cast a spell on him, and all his courage simply vanished. If only he knew how fast her heart raced every time she saw him, how much she adored his almost waist-length dark hair dancing in the wind. It was extraordinary. She dreamed of touching it, feeling its softness, but didn’t know how to catch his attention.
One day, Mike grabbed a beer with some friends but was completely absent-minded. He’d rather be with Lily, though he didn’t even know her name yet. Staring straight ahead, lost in thought, he suddenly felt someone tugging at his long locks, cascading down his back like a waterfall.
“Are you okay, Mike?” asked Tom. “You don’t seem to be in the mood.”
Mike told him about the beautiful girl he was smitten with.
“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Tom said, curious.
“I don’t know,” Mike replied, trying to understand it himself. “She overwhelms me. I don’t even know her name.”
He took a sip of beer and stared out the window. And then, to his utter surprise, he saw her. She was just walking down the street.
Mike leapt to his feet, unable to believe his luck.
“Tom, it’s her! It’s her!” he shouted, drawing startled glances from everyone around.
Tom followed Mike’s gaze and smiled.
“That’s Lily. We were in the same class back in high school.”
“You know her?” Mike was stunned.
“Yeah,” Tom said with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I guess I might be able to help you.”
A few days later, Mike ran into Tom again.
“I’ve got something for you,” Tom said with a grin, handing him an envelope.
“What is it?” Mike asked, a little confused.
“A gift from Lily. I talked to her and mentioned you.”
“And what did she say?” Mike felt his heart start to beat much faster.
“She wrote you a letter,” Tom replied with a mysterious smile.
“But… don’t you have her number or address? Couldn’t you just give that to me?” Mike wanted to act quickly — not write letters like in medieval times.
“Read it first,” Tom said. “That’s what she asked me to tell you.”
Mike rushed home to open the letter, although something about the whole thing struck him as a little strange.
“Maybe she’s just shy,” he thought. “Maybe writing is easier for her.”
But with every line he read, he felt like his world was falling apart.
Hi Mike,
I hope you don’t mind me writing — I just found this the easiest way to share how I feel.
I’m really flattered that you like me, and I think I’d like to go out with you. But… there’s one thing I need to say. It’s about your hair.
Please don’t take this the wrong way — it’s nice, really — but I’m not sure a guy should keep it that long.
If you really care about me, maybe… you could consider cutting it?
I’d love to give this a chance, I really would. I’ve seen you a few times and you seem like a great guy — but I just don’t like long-haired men, you know?
I think I’d be happy to see you without the mane.
Let’s meet tomorrow at 6, by the fountain in the park.
Lily
Mike felt like someone had held a pistol to his head.
He stared at the letter in disbelief. He read it once. Then again. And again.
“No, this can’t be true”, he couldn’t believe it. He had hoped so much that this could turn into something real, something lasting. But Lily’s request felt like a dagger to his chest.
With a trembling hand, he reached for his hair — thick, shiny locks flowing down his back and chest like silk.
“How could I cut it?”
The thought made his stomach turn.
“But… lose her?”
He was trapped between pain and longing, torn by a choice that felt impossible.
He stood up and began pacing the room, restlessly running his fingers through his hair, as if it were the last time. The soft weight of it calmed him slightly, the way it always had. But she doesn’t like it… she doesn’t like me like this.
He looked at himself in the mirror, trying to imagine his face without the familiar cascade of dark hair. His reflection looked back with silent dread.
Maybe it’s not that bad. Hair grows back. And if it means being with her…
“But why would she ask that?” he whispered to himself. “Does it really matter that much?”
Part of him wanted to ignore it. Pretend he hadn’t read it. Just show up tomorrow, as he was. Maybe she’d change her mind.
But another part — the one that was already in love — couldn’t let it go. If this was the price, maybe it was worth it.
He took a shaky breath. It’s only hair, he told himself, over and over, like a prayer.
But deep down, it felt like much more than that.
Meanwhile, Lily was daydreaming about Mike. In her imagination, she took his hair and twisted it around her fingers. How nice of Tom to tell her about Mike’s feelings.
Back in school, Tom had been in love with her, without it being returned, but now he just wanted to help her. What a nice change. Lily couldn’t wait for the date with Mike by the fountain (it seemed so romantic), and for the moment when she could finally touch the beautiful mane framing his face.
While she was longing to finally see him, Mike was in total despair. Cutting his hair was the last thing he wanted to do, but losing Lily seemed even worse. He reached for her letter again, as if trying to make sure she had really written it.
“It’ll grow back, it will… it’s nothing,” he tried to convince himself. He touched his hair again and felt a shiver run down his spine. It was almost agony.
Then suddenly, without even knowing what he was doing, he stormed out of the flat and ran to the nearest salon.
“I’ll do it for you, Lily,” he whispered, standing in front of the door.
He stepped inside on shaky legs, sick with fear. “It’s for Lily,” he kept telling himself, trying to stay calm. The salon felt like a chamber of torture — and for him, it really was. He inhaled the scent of shampoo and hairspray with disgust, but he wanted to be brave. For her.
“What can I do for you?” asked a young woman with a warm smile, her eyes scanning his beautiful locks.
“I want to cut my hair,” Mike said hesitantly, sinking into the chair.
“Just a trim?” she asked.
“No.” He gathered the courage to say it aloud. “I want to chop it off.”
She looked at him in surprise, running her fingers through the thick, glossy mass. “Are you sure?”
“I have to,” Mike murmured, tears stinging his eyes. He nearly stood up and left — but then Lily’s face appeared in his mind, and he forced himself to stay.
“Cut it short, please,” he repeated more firmly.
“If that’s what you want,” the stylist said gently, noticing his determined expression.
Mike glanced into the mirror for what felt like the last time. He reached out to touch his hair — but his hand stopped mid-air. It was too much.
The girl draped a cape over him and reached for the scissors. When Mike saw them, his stomach turned. His heart pounded like a drum as he looked in the mirror, wide-eyed with dread.
She brought the scissors closer.
Mike shut his eyes. He couldn’t watch.
But he could hear. T<span;>he hostile sound of the steel was tearing his soul apart. His identity was being stripped away, snip by snip. The feeling of coolness on his nape made him tremble when the cutting edge sank its teeth into the strands.
The girl worked gently, but swiftly, sending soft, dark tufts to the floor like fallen feathers. Mike clenched his hands under the cape, wishing for the nightmare to end.
Moments later, it was done. His hair
formed a dark sea that lapped at his shoes.
He slowly opened his eyes and saw a stranger staring back at him.
“Oh my God,” he whispered, devastated.
The strands looked beautiful — like a silky carpet — but they were no longer a part of him.
The girl knelt to gather them. “I don’t want to tread on it,” she explained softly. Mike watched her place them on the cabinet beneath the mirror — which only deepened the pain.
“How short do you want the cut?” she asked, holding clippers in her hand, pulling him out of his daze.
She could just as well have asked if he wanted it dyed pink or green. He looked at the pile of hair. It didn’t matter anymore.
“Do what you think is best,” he said weakly.
She flicked the clippers on and ran them over the back of his head. The short cut became even shorter, and Mike tried to think only of Lily.
A few final touches with the scissors, and she was done.
“How do you like it?” she asked.
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t lie. He only wanted to leave, to find Lily, to make it all worth it.
It was all for her.
“Don’t you want to keep your hair?” the girl asked as he stood.
“No,” he said, and left without looking back. It was better to forget.
Mike walked like a sleepwalker, eyes fixed on nothing, seeing no one. All he wanted was to get back to his flat, shut the door behind him, and cry — like Anne of Green Gables after the mishap with the green hair dye.
He tried to banish the regret and think only of Lily, but the reflection in the mirror haunted him.
The new Mike looked like someone else.
He touched his short hair for the first time.
It felt like something toxic.
Tomorrow he was to meet Lily.
He had to be strong for her.
That night, he couldn’t sleep at all. He missed the sight and feel of his heavy locks draping over his body like a soft blanket. He could only hope Lily would like his new look. His head felt unnaturally light, and the short strands rustled strangely beneath his fingers.
“Oh, Lily,” he sighed, “why don’t you like long-haired men? Everything would seem so much easier then.”
But he couldn’t avoid looking at himself for the rest of his life. He had to be charming for her. He put on his favourite shirt and studied his reflection in the mirror.
Yet it was obvious—he would never look the same as before, not even in the same clothes, not without the hair that once wrapped around him like armor and silk.
The worst, however, was still ahead.
The first date with Lily was supposed to be Mike’s reward for his suffering. Instead, life had written a different script.
They met at the agreed place a few hours later. Mike was on pins and needles, waiting not only to see her—but to see her reaction.
Finally, she appeared. But when her eyes found him, a startled, almost frightened look flashed across her face.
“Hi, Lily,” Mike said in a trembling voice, his chest tight with hope and fear.
She didn’t answer right away. Her gaze swept over him—over his hair—searching, confused, uncertain if what she saw was real.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, his voice cracking under the weight of growing dread.
“What… what happened to your hair?” she finally whispered. “Why did you cut it? It was so beautiful…”
And just like that, Mike felt the ground disappear beneath his feet.
“Lily…” He looked into her eyes, searching for answers. “But it was you who suggested I should cut it. You told me that in your letter. You have no idea what my hair meant to me. I went through hell to make you happy. I really thought you’d… appreciate it. It wasn’t a piece of cake.”
He hadn’t meant to sound harsh, but the words came out like accusations.
Lily blinked, confused, her lips parting in shock. Her eyes began to fill with tears.
“What are you talking about? What letter? Why would I ever want you to cut your hair? I loved it,” she said in one breath, then broke into sobs.
Mike stood there frozen, wishing he could wake up from this nightmare. But it wasn’t a dream.
And then, like a cold slap, it hit him.
“Tom,” he whispered, fury and disbelief rising in his chest.
“What about him?” Lily asked, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“He wrote this letter!” Mike finally understood. “But why? He’s my friend… Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know,” Lily whispered, just as stunned. “I’m so sorry about your hair.”
Mike’s world had turned upside down in just a few days. What else was waiting for him?
He stepped closer and looked into her eyes. “You don’t want to go on a date with me anymore, do you? Because I cut my hair?”
“Of course not,” she said quickly, not wanting to hurt him even more.
But deep inside, she wasn’t sure. All her fantasies, her hopes, had vanished — along with his hair.
They went to a café to talk in peace.
Mike decided to confront Tom later and focus on Lily for now. Still, he wasn’t sure how to behave or what to say. He realized she had been drawn to him mostly because of his hair – a painful thought, especially since he missed it so badly himself. Lily, on her part, felt a bit ashamed, knowing he might have guessed the truth. They both tried to smile and pretend everything was fine.
But then, after a while, Mike said something funny and laughed – and Lily suddenly noticed she truly liked him.
She began to see things she hadn’t paid attention to before: his beautiful, green eyes framed by thick lashes, the soft freckles on his cheeks, and his calm, soothing voice. A pleasant chill ran through her.
At the end of the day, they arranged another date. Mike was happy that his sacrifice hadn’t been in vain. Still, he needed to see Tom and get everything straight.
<span;>Tom didn’t hide his surprise.
“You’ve cut your hair,” he said, staring at Mike in disbelief.
“You didn’t expect that, did you?” Mike asked ironically.
“I didn’t,” Tom admitted, gazing at Mike like he was wearing a clown wig.
“What game are you playing, Tom?” Mike’s patience was wearing thin. “I know the truth. You wrote that stupid letter.”
“Yes, I did,” Tom sighed. “But I never thought you’d believe it was from Lily.”
“So…?” Mike waited for more.
“It was supposed to be a joke. I thought you’d figure it out. I was a little jealous of Lily, so I planned to tell her you’d be waiting in the park and tease you a bit with that message. I’m sorry, man.”
“You know how much my hair meant to me,” Mike said, struggling to understand.
“I didn’t think you were that in love with her — enough to cut it off without hesitation,” Tom admitted, beginning to regret everything.
“Please forgive me. I really want you and Lily to be happy”.
Mike’s thoughts were spinning.
If it hadn’t been for Tom, maybe he would’ve never met her.
If he hadn’t cut his hair — the very thing she liked so much — she would’ve never seen him as he was without it.
But she wants to meet him again.
She really does.
He saw Tom approaching, offering an olive branch. Mike hesitated, then finally shook his hand.
“Don’t ever pull something like that again,” he said quietly. “That haircut… it was the worst thing I’ve ever been through. I wanted to die when I saw my hair on the floor.”
He winced at the memory.
“It’ll grow back,” Tom said, still holding his hand.
He knew it would grow back. But it would never be the same. Neither would he. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
Another date with Lily was much better. They both discovered they had a lot in common, and the connection between them grew stronger. Lily was falling more and more in love — even if she still missed Mike’s hair a little.
A few days later, she made a decision.
“What was the name of the salon where you got your haircut?” she asked unexpectedly.
Mike hesitated. “Why do you want to know that?” He would’ve rather erased that place from his memory forever.
“Oh, nothing. Just curious,” she replied casually, not wanting to reveal her plan just yet.
<span;>But once she had the name, her mind was made up. She was going.
The next day, Lily found herself sitting in the salon chair.
“What can I do for you?” the stylist asked, smiling.
“I want to cut it short,” Lily said without hesitation.
The stylist paused, a flicker of recognition in her eyes. She seemed momentarily lost in thought.
“What is it?” Lily asked, noticing the shift in her expression.
“Oh, I just remembered someone who came in not long ago,” the stylist said. “He had the most incredible long hair — thick, shiny, almost unreal. He asked me to chop it all off. Held onto the chair like I was about to take his head off with a chainsaw.”
Lily smiled gently. “That was my boyfriend.”
The stylist blinked, surprised. “Really?”
“Cut mine as short as his,” Lily said, her voice steady.
The stylist raised an eyebrow, but didn’t ask any more questions. Clearly, there was a story behind this decision — and she respected that.
As she prepared her tools, Lily felt a wave of nerves. What if short hair didn’t suit her? But at the same time, a strange sense of calm settled over her. She was doing this for him. To show she understood. To be with him, not just in words, but in action.
And maybe, she thought, it was time to find out what it felt like to let go — just like he had.
She was thinking about Mike as the strands of her hair fell to the ground. Watching her reflection in the mirror, she felt her heart pounding while listening to the sound of scissors and clippers working over her head. The sensation was strange, almost surreal — but she knew it had been far worse for Mike. His hair had been much longer, more striking, more symbolic. Losing it must have felt like losing a part of himself.
Her own new look wasn’t so bad, though. She still looked quite nice, even with her hair so short.
When she got up from the chair, the stylist opened one of the drawers and pulled out a plastic bag.
“I think this belongs to you,” she said, handing it to Lily.
Lily peeked inside, her eyes widening in astonishment.
“This is Mike’s hair!” she whispered, moved.
“I usually throw my clients’ hair away,” the stylist explained, “but something told me not to this time.”
“Thank you,” Lily said softly, momentarily forgetting her own haircut, filled with happiness that she could hold this piece of him. “That’s really kind of you.”
At home, she buried her face in the silky ponytail. She inhaled its scent — Mike’s scent — and gently ran her fingers through the long strands. She had dreamed of doing this back when she first noticed him, and now she finally could. She placed it on her head, curious what she’d look like wearing it. Only then did she realise how long it truly was. She was much shorter than Mike, so the ends now reached her lower back.
And he had cut it for her. Because he loved her.
Lily’s eyes filled with tears.
Mike was about to drop by, so Lily laid his ponytail on the bed and waited.
When she opened the door, he froze — absolutely stunned and speechless.
“Why… why did you do that?” he asked, staring at her short hair in disbelief.
“I thought it could be a new beginning,” she said softly. “And I wanted to feel what you felt. You cut your hair for me, thinking it was what I wanted — and I wanted to show you how much that meant to me. I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t ask first.”
“Lily… you’re the most wonderful girl I’ve ever known,” he whispered, gently brushing his fingers through her short hair.
“Now I see… maybe losing mine wasn’t so bad after all.”
“There’s something else,” Lily said, taking his hand and leading him to the bedroom.
Mike saw the ponytail spread across the bed — and felt a strange shiver.
“The stylist gave it to me,” Lily explained. “Do you mind if I keep it?”
The sight brought back every dreadful second of that day — but it was a part of him. If anyone deserved to keep it, it was her.
“Of course I don’t mind,” he said, pulling her into his arms.
Then he reached for the ponytail, touching it just like he used to when it was still on his head — though his hand trembled slightly.
<span;>“I guess this’ll help me get used to it,” he said with a faint smile.
“But you have to promise me something,” Lily said, ruffling his short hair.
“Anything,” Mike replied, feeling a weight lift off his heart.
“Let’s grow our hair back together,” Lily said, her voice warm with hope. “Not because I don’t like the way you look now — I love every part of you. Your face, your eyes, your smile… your freckles,” she added, gently touching his cheek.
“Do it for yourself. I know you want to. And it has to be at least as long as before,” she teased with a grin.
“I promise,” he said.
And then she felt his warm lips on hers.
A few months later, Mike and Lily were walking through the park — the same place where they had spoken to each other for the first time.
It hadn’t been a fortunate moment back then, but now they could laugh about it without regret.
Lily gently brushed a wayward lock of hair from Mike’s face and smiled.
They didn’t need to say anything.
It was enough just to be together.
