Might As Well

The sun beat down on the busy Kabul streets, and Sana could feel the sweat pooling under her headscarf as she walked with her mother and older sister, Amina. Her knee-length hair, braided and heavy, felt like a thick blanket against her back. She tugged at the braid nervously, trying to twist it into a more comfortable position, but it only made her hotter.

“Sana, you can’t keep your hair this long in the summer,” her mother said, her tone firm. “It’s going to make you sick in this heat.”

Sana didn’t reply, instead quickening her steps as they neared Aunt Mariam’s small salon. It was a three-chair space with colorful woven rugs on the floor and a long mirror stretching across the wall. The smell of rosewater and freshly brewed green tea wafted through the air. The salon was cozy and warm, with faded floral curtains hanging over the windows that let in slivers of bright sunlight. Aunt Mariam was at the front, sweeping hair from the last customer, while her two daughters—Hadia, who was as old as Amina, and Zainab, the eldest—chatted softly as they set out a new kettle of tea.

“Salaam!” Aunt Mariam called out cheerfully as they walked in. “What brings you ladies here today?” She wiped her hands on her apron, her eyes twinkling as she noticed Sana. “Ah, Sana-jan! I think I know why you’re here. A summer cut, hmm?”

Sana bit her lip, hesitating as she sat down on a low, cushioned stool near the corner. “I don’t know, Auntie Mariam,” she said quietly. “I don’t really want to cut my hair. It’s taken me so long to grow it.”

Her mother exchanged a glance with Amina before replying, “It’s just too long for summer. And it’s not just about the heat— it’s healthier to get it trimmed. Your hair is so thick, Sana, it’ll be much easier to manage when it’s shorter.”

“Mid-back length is still long!” Amina added, sitting down in one of the worn, comfortable chairs. “You’ll still be able to braid it. Besides, think of how much lighter it will feel.”

Hadia and Zainab came over, curious about the discussion. Hadia, the younger of the two sisters, leaned down to inspect Sana’s hair with a practiced eye. “It’s beautiful, but Mama is right,” she said, touching the end of Sana’s braid. “You’re going to melt if you keep it like this all summer.”

Zainab, who was known for her no-nonsense attitude, nodded firmly. “And mid-back is a good length— practical but still lovely,” she said. “I cut my hair shorter last year, and it’s been so much easier.”

Sana’s eyes darted between the familiar faces—her mother’s expression was patient but determined, Amina’s encouraging, and Hadia and Zainab’s both thoughtful and sincere. But she still hesitated.

“Why can’t Amina cut hers, then?” she asked, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice. “She’s older than me!”

Amina laughed, tossing her hair back playfully. “Oh, Sana, I’m married now,” she said, adjusting her shawl. “And my husband likes my hair long. Besides,” she added with a teasing smile, “I’ve already learned how to manage this kind of length.”

Their mother, with a gentle sigh, placed a hand on Sana’s shoulder. “You’re still young, Sana. And we’re not asking for a short cut— just enough so you can enjoy your summer without feeling weighed down. Trust me, you’ll love it.”

Sana chewed on her lower lip, considering. Aunt Mariam stepped closer, her voice kind and encouraging. “How about this,” she said, kneeling down so she was at eye level with Sana. “I’ll only cut it to your mid-back. That way, you’ll still have beautiful, long hair. And if you don’t like it, you can always grow it back. What do you say?”

Sana felt the weight of all the eyes in the room on her and, finally, took a deep breath. “Alright,” she said softly, nodding. “Mid-back. But no shorter!”

Aunt Mariam beamed, and everyone in the salon relaxed, the decision finally made. Sana got up from the stool, feeling a strange mixture of dread and excitement as she approached one of the salon chairs. Her fingers twisted nervously around the end of her braid as she sat down, ready to say goodbye to the length that had been a part of her for as long as she could remember.

As everything was settled, Aunt Mariam gestured to one of the chairs with a warm smile. “Come, Sana-jan,” she said in a sweet, soothing tone, “I’ll give my sweet child a haircut myself.” She patted the back of the chair invitingly, her eyes gentle and understanding.

Sana hesitated, then slowly walked over, taking a deep breath as she settled into the chair. Aunt Mariam moved with practiced ease, draping a soft cape around her shoulders. “There,” she said, gently smoothing the fabric. “Let’s start with a nice shampoo before we cut. It’ll be relaxing for you, and your hair will be easier to manage.”

Sana nodded, feeling a little comforted by Aunt Mariam’s kindness. She was led to the shampoo chair, the familiar sight of the reclining seat and deep basin making her heart beat a little faster. But when Aunt Mariam leaned the chair back and gently cradled Sana’s head, she felt herself beginning to relax.

Warm water cascaded over her scalp, and Aunt Mariam’s fingers worked through her hair with practiced tenderness. “This will help you unwind,” Aunt Mariam said softly as she lathered the shampoo, her fingers kneading Sana’s scalp in slow, deep circles. The scent of the rose-scented shampoo filled the air, calming Sana’s nerves, and she let out a small sigh of relief. The deep scalp massage sent waves of warmth down her spine, melting away her tension bit by bit.

For a moment, the buzz of conversation in the salon faded, and all Sana could focus on was the rhythmic, soothing movements of Aunt Mariam’s hands. Her initial anxiety began to ebb away, replaced by a pleasant, dreamy haze as the cool water rinsed away the suds.

“There we go,” Aunt Mariam said, her voice soft and almost melodic. “You’re doing great, Sana. Just relax.”

Sana’s shoulders loosened, and she closed her eyes, letting herself enjoy the gentle tug of fingers in her hair, the soothing sounds of running water, and the safe, comforting presence of her aunt. It was the first time in a while that she allowed herself to truly relax, and she almost forgot why she had been so anxious in the first place.

When the shampoo was finished, Aunt Mariam gently patted her hair with a soft towel, her movements unhurried and careful. “How do you feel?” she asked, smiling down at Sana with a reassuring warmth.

“Better,” Sana admitted, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Her fears hadn’t vanished, but they seemed smaller now— manageable, somehow.

“Good,” Aunt Mariam said, guiding her back to the salon chair with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Now, let’s get you ready for that beautiful summer cut.”

Just as Aunt Mariam finished toweling off her hair, Sana turned in the chair, eyes wide and pleading. “Is there any way… not to cut it?” she asked, her voice small and hopeful. She wanted to find an ally in her aunt, a way out of the change she wasn’t ready to face.

Aunt Mariam’s face softened, but she shook her head gently. “I’m sorry, Sana-jan,” she said, her tone firm yet kind. “It’s your mother’s decision, and she knows what’s best for you.”

Sana’s shoulders slumped slightly as Aunt Mariam guided her back to the salon chair, wrapping the damp hair in a towel that sat like a heavy turban on her head. “Come, sit,” Aunt Mariam said softly, patting the back of the chair. Once Sana was seated, her aunt adjusted the cape again, making sure it was snug but not too tight. “There, now you’re comfortable,” she said, her fingers light and gentle as she smoothed the fabric one last time.

With a practiced flick, Aunt Mariam unwrapped the towel, letting Sana’s long, wet hair tumble down the back of the chair like a waterfall. She picked up a wide-toothed comb and began to gently work through the long strands, section by section, untangling them with care. Each stroke was slow and deliberate, easing Sana’s nerves. The coolness of the water lingering in her hair was soothing, but the anticipation made her heart race.

When every knot was gone, Aunt Mariam paused, looking up at Sana’s mother for the final confirmation. Sana’s mother gave a slight, encouraging nod, her expression both proud and sympathetic. Aunt Mariam caught her eye in the mirror, and Sana felt a surge of warmth from the supportive gaze. She managed a faint smile as her aunt’s own smile widened, a mixture of encouragement and reassurance.

“Let’s start,” Aunt Mariam said softly, holding the comb with one hand and the scissors in the other. She ran the comb down Sana’s long hair one last time, the gentle tug giving Sana a strange sense of finality. She held her breath as Aunt Mariam lifted the scissors, lining them up carefully for the first cut.

The room seemed to fall silent as the sharp blades closed on the thick hair. With a precise snip, Aunt Mariam made the first cut, and a heavy clump of hair fell to the floor, its damp, dark strands coiling softly on the tile. Sana watched it fall in the mirror, her heart catching in her throat as the next section was lifted and cut, more long pieces joining the growing pile around the chair.

Each cut was firm and steady, the weight of her hair disappearing in chunks. Aunt Mariam’s face was focused and calm, her hands working with confidence, while Sana’s mother and sister watched from the side, quietly supportive. Sana couldn’t help but feel a pang of loss, seeing the familiar length disappear. But as she looked at her reflection in the mirror, the sight of her hair being transformed bit by bit, she felt something else— a tiny flicker of curiosity about what she might look like when it was all done.

Aunt Mariam combed through the freshly cut hair, the mid-back length now falling in a soft, even line. “See? All done,” she said with a warm smile, meeting Sana’s eyes in the mirror. Sana’s hair felt strange—so much lighter, and cooler against her neck. She reached a tentative hand out from under the cape to touch the ends, feeling a pang of loss mixed with relief. It was shorter, but not as drastic as she had feared. Her expression was hesitant, caught between sadness and curiosity, a smile trying to break free but not quite making it.

Aunt Mariam stepped to the side, letting the rest of the family get a good look at the result. Sana sat there, still caped, her fingers playing with the new length. Her heart was still racing, but she didn’t dislike it. In fact, she felt… different. Lighter, and somehow a bit older. Yet she couldn’t quite shake the uncertainty that lingered.

Sana’s mother stood up from the cushioned chair where she had been waiting, her eyes bright with curiosity as she approached. But before she could get too close, Amina gently reached out and stopped her. “Wait, Mama,” she said quietly, motioning for Aunt Mariam to come closer as well.

The three of them stepped away from Sana, who watched their retreat in the mirror with a growing sense of unease. She couldn’t hear their conversation, only the soft murmurs as Amina leaned in and whispered something to her mother, her expression serious.

“Aunt Mariam, come here,” Amina said softly. Aunt Mariam joined them, and they spoke in hushed voices, careful not to let Sana hear.

“Mama,” Amina began, her voice low and persuasive, “I think we should go shorter.”

Her mother’s eyes widened slightly, and she shook her head. “But we agreed on mid-back. This is what we decided. Look at her—she’s already nervous enough.”

“I know,” Amina said, her tone gentle but firm. “But it’s still too long for this heat. It’s going to be a hassle for Sana to manage, even at this length. It’s beautiful, but she’s young. It should be something easier for her.”

“But what if she doesn’t like it?” her mother asked, glancing back at Sana’s reflection, her face clearly torn. “She’s already given up so much length.”

“That’s why I’m saying we should decide now, while she’s already in the chair,” Amina said with quiet urgency. “Might as well go shorter. To her shoulders—it’ll be so much easier to manage, and she’ll still look beautiful.”

Aunt Mariam nodded slowly, her eyes thoughtful as she listened. “Amina’s right,” she said gently. “She’ll be more comfortable, and it’s easier to handle at that length. The heat is only going to get worse, and this way, it’ll grow back healthier.”

Sana’s mother hesitated, clearly torn between the decision they had made and the new suggestion. Her eyes darted between Amina and Aunt Mariam, and finally, with a resigned sigh, she nodded. “Alright,” she said, almost reluctantly. “You’re right. Better to do it now than have her struggling with it later. Let’s go shorter.”

Sana couldn’t hear the exact words, but she saw her mother’s hesitant nod, and her stomach sank. Amina’s hand rested reassuringly on their mother’s arm, and she knew a new decision had been made. Her fingers gripped the edge of the cape nervously, her heart pounding as she waited to find out what would happen next.

Sana’s mother and Amina returned to their seats, their expressions neutral, though a flicker of uncertainty lingered in her mother’s eyes. Aunt Mariam moved back to Sana’s side, her steps slow and deliberate, and without a word, she picked up the spray bottle, misting Sana’s hair with cool water. Sana’s heart skipped a beat as she watched her aunt work, the feeling of unease creeping back in.

“What were you talking about?” Sana asked nervously, her voice almost a whisper. Aunt Mariam paused, then offered a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Oh, it was just a grown-up talk, Sana-jan,” she said gently, her tone light. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

She continued to comb through the hair, each stroke making the strands straighter and wetter, preparing them for another cut. Sana’s anxiety grew with every pass of the comb, and she finally blurted out, “Are you… are you going to cut it shorter?”

“No, no,” Aunt Mariam said quickly, her voice smooth. “I’m just fixing the cut, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.” She gently nudged Sana’s hands back under the cape, concealing them from view. “Keep your hands here, sweetheart,” she said softly.

Then, with a gentle yet firm hand, Aunt Mariam pushed Sana’s head forward, instructing her to look down. “Just keep still for me, alright? If you move, it might get cut even shorter,” she said in a sweet, soothing tone. Her fingers continued their steady, rhythmic movements, combing the wet strands down toward the ends.

Sana’s breath quickened, a sense of dread tightening in her chest as she felt the cold metal of the scissors touch her hair. The snipping began again, the familiar sound sharper, more deliberate. With each precise cut, the length of her hair was reduced further, barely brushing her shoulders now. Chunks of dark hair slid off, falling silently to the floor around her feet. She couldn’t see what was happening, only feel the tension in Aunt Mariam’s movements, each tug making her heart race.

The last thick lock, still damp, slid off her shoulder and landed heavily in her lap. It took a moment for the reality to hit Sana. When it did, she stared down at the severed strands, disbelief turning quickly into panic. A scream burst from her lips, raw and desperate. “No! Why did you cut it shorter?” she cried, her voice breaking with a mixture of shock and betrayal. Her wide eyes filled with tears as she looked up at the mirror, her gaze finding her mother’s reflection.

Her mother’s expression tightened, a shadow of regret crossing her face. Sana’s tears spilled over, running down her cheeks as she clutched the edge of the cape with trembling fingers. “You promised! You said it would only be to my mid-back!” she sobbed, her voice rising in anguish. She ran a shaking hand through the new, shorter length, feeling the ends barely touching her shoulders, so different from the heavy braid she had known all her life.

The sense of loss overwhelmed her, and she buried her face in her hands, muffled sobs filling the small salon. Aunt Mariam’s face reflected sadness, a regret that matched Sana’s, but she remained silent, gently patting Sana’s shoulder as she waited for the storm of tears to pass.

Sana’s scream echoed through the small salon, startling Hadia and Zainab. They hurried over, leaving their customers momentarily unattended, sensing the urgency in the room. Zainab’s face turned concerned as she saw Sana, still caped, red-faced and crying, her shoulders shaking with sobs.

“What’s going on?” Zainab asked, her voice edged with worry as she knelt beside the chair, wrapping her arms around Sana in a comforting hug. Sana buried her face in Zainab’s shoulder, her words tumbling out between sobs. “They cut it shorter, Zainab! They promised only mid-back, and now look!” she cried, her fingers tugging at the new, unfamiliar ends. Zainab listened patiently, rocking Sana gently, her expression soft and understanding. She pulled back just enough to make silly faces at Sana, a childish attempt to coax a smile out of her.

Meanwhile, Hadia, the more practical of the two sisters, shot an exaggerated look of annoyance at Aunt Mariam, Sana’s mother, and Amina. She pulled them to the side, her voice low and firm. “What happened here?” she asked, though she already guessed most of it. Aunt Mariam explained quietly, her tone regretful, about the decision to go shorter for the summer, how they thought it would be more comfortable for Sana.

Hadia listened, arms crossed, and as the conversation ended, she glanced over at Sana. Zainab had managed to calm her down considerably. Sana’s cries had faded to soft sniffles, her face blotchy but calmer as she talked in a low voice with Zainab, who made exaggerated, sympathetic faces to keep her distracted.

Seeing that the worst was over, Hadia gave a small nod. “Go back to your client,” she said to Zainab, her tone gentle but direct. “I’ll take care of this.”

Zainab shook her head with a soft smile. “No, I’ve got Sana,” she said, squeezing her cousin’s hand reassuringly. She turned to Aunt Mariam and her aunt, her eyes more serious now. “Mama, can you take the lady in my chair? I’ll handle this.”

Aunt Mariam nodded and stepped away, relieved to have Zainab’s help. As she moved to her customer, Zainab focused on Sana’s mother and Amina, her expression turning critical. “You really should have convinced her better,” she said, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice. “Of course she’s upset. Look at her! She feels like she looks terrible—she hates this cut.”

Sana’s mother, caught between guilt and concern, shot an annoyed look at Amina, who shifted uneasily. “What can we do now?” Sana’s mother asked in a worried tone, her eyes flicking back to Sana. “She’s already so upset.”

Zainab crossed her arms, thoughtful for a moment, then spoke with certainty. “I can fix it. Give her a cute cut, something that will suit her better—something fresh and pretty. But… I’ll need to go a bit shorter.”

Sana’s mother’s eyes widened slightly. “Shorter?” she repeated, her voice hesitant. She looked at Amina, who seemed unsure. “Are you really sure about this?”

Zainab nodded confidently. “Yes, I’m sure,” she said. “It’ll look better, trust me. It’s already too short for her liking, so we might as well go shorter. I promise I’ll make it look adorable.”

Sana’s mother hesitated, glancing at Amina, who gave a small, uncertain nod. “Alright,” she said finally, her voice resigned but hopeful. “If you think it’ll be better…”

“I do,” Zainab replied, determination in her eyes. “Just trust me on this.”

She turned back to Sana, her smile warm and encouraging. “Alright, Sana-jan,” she said softly, “I’m going to give you a haircut that’s really cute. Something you’ll like, I promise.”

Sana, still sniffling, looked at Zainab with wide, doubtful eyes, not entirely convinced but willing to trust her cousin’s gentle confidence. Zainab’s smile widened, a glint of playful determination in her gaze. “Let’s make you look fabulous,” she said, picking up the comb and scissors with a renewed sense of purpose.

Sana remained still, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and dread as she clung to the edge of the cape, lost in the horror of her new haircut. The weight of her long hair, now reduced to something so much shorter, was still hard to process. She barely noticed Zainab approaching her, a playful, gentle voice breaking through her anxious thoughts.

“Sana-jan,” Zainab called in a light, teasing tone, bending down so her voice would be sweet and reassuring. “I’m going to fix your hair, alright? Don’t worry.”

Sana’s eyes flicked up at her cousin, the tension clear on her face. “Fix it? But… it’s already so short!” she protested, shaking her head as though trying to block out the dread building in her chest.

Zainab smiled warmly, her tone playful and a little comical to ease the tension. “Oh, come on, don’t be scared. You’re so brave, Sana!” she said, leaning in to touch her shoulder comfortingly. “I promise I won’t cut much—just a little, enough to make it look adorable. I’ll make you look like a doll. And you know I love you, right? I would never do something you won’t like. You trust me, don’t you?”

Sana’s eyes softened slightly, the words comforting her even though she still felt uneasy. The sweet sincerity in Zainab’s voice made her feel a little more at ease. “Okay…” she mumbled, her body relaxing slightly as she nodded. “But… not too much, okay?”

Zainab’s grin widened, full of affection. “I promise, just a little trim. You’ll look so cute, I’ll make your sister jealous!” she teased, making the whole idea sound fun. “You’ll look so beautiful, even Amina will wonder if she can pull off a cut like this.”

Sana gave a small, nervous laugh, a flicker of hope starting to replace the fear. “Really?”

“Really,” Zainab assured her with a wink, giving her a gentle pat on the back. “Just wait.”

With that, Zainab spun the chair around, making sure to face Sana’s mother and Amina so they could see the progress. As Zainab began to comb through the damp hair, spraying it lightly to keep it in place, she spoke in her usual playful tone, as if distracting Sana from the weight of the moment.

“See, I’m going to make you look so cute, everyone will think you’re the prettiest girl in the room,” Zainab continued, working through the sections of hair with ease. “Amina might just wish she had the same cut! Who knows, maybe she’ll even think, ‘Why can’t I look as cute as my little sister?’” She chuckled lightly, making Sana feel a little more at ease, the nerves starting to settle with each word.

Sana relaxed into the chair as Zainab’s reassuring voice continued, making the snip of the scissors feel less terrifying. Zainab worked with practiced ease, cutting the hair in neat sections, carefully shaping it into something more manageable. As she worked, she kept up a steady stream of praise, “Look how brave you are, Sana. You’re handling this so well. You’re gonna love the way you look, trust me.”

The cuts were deliberate, the hair falling in small, neat strands around the chair. Zainab’s tone never wavered, and with each snip, Sana felt a little more relaxed. Zainab was right—she did look cute. Despite her nervousness, a small part of her started to hope that maybe, just maybe, this cut wouldn’t be so bad after all.

As the final snips were made, a woman entered the salon. Her footsteps were light and quick, but her laughter echoed through the small space, catching everyone’s attention. Sana, still caped and focused on the sensation of her hair being cut, turned her head just slightly, trying to see what was going on.

The woman burst into laughter as she took in the sight of Sana, who was still in the chair with most of her long hair now gone. “Oh my!” the woman laughed, walking inside and heading toward the back. “That’s a big change!”

The sound of her laughter sent a wave of curiosity through Sana, making her nervous once more. What exactly had Zainab done to her hair? She couldn’t see the cut, only feeling the shorter strands fall to the floor with each snip. The hair around her shoulders was now much shorter, and the feeling of it against her neck was strange and foreign.

Sana’s heart raced again as she glanced at Zainab, still unsure about what the final result would be. Was it really going to be cute? Or had Zainab gone too far, like the woman’s laughter seemed to suggest?

As the woman moved toward the back of the salon, Zainab finished up the last few snips, the sound of the scissors cutting through the air punctuated by the occasional gentle spray of water. With a satisfied smile, Zainab cheerfully asked, “Alright, Sana-jan, are you ready to see your new look?”

Sana, still processing everything, hesitated for a moment, her hands gripping the arms of the chair. “I… I guess so,” she mumbled, her voice a mix of nerves and uncertainty.

With a swift motion, Zainab spun the chair around, positioning Sana in front of the mirror. Sana’s eyes widened as she looked at her reflection—her long hair, once cascading down to her knees, was now transformed into a bob that barely reached her earlobes. The blunt cut framed her face, sharp and unfamiliar. She touched the ends of her hair with trembling hands, her heart sinking as the reality of the change set in.

Sana’s eyes welled up with tears, the weight of the loss overwhelming her. Before she could stop herself, the tears began to fall, one after another, and soon she was crying uncontrollably. Her body shook with the force of her sobs, and she couldn’t even find the words to explain why it hurt so much.

Zainab stood helpless, her expression full of concern as she looked at Sana. “Sana-jan, please, it’s not that bad,” she said, her voice soft but strained. “You look so cute, really. Everyone’s going to love it, I promise.”

But it was no use. Sana couldn’t hear it. She was lost in her tears, the suddenness of the change too much to process. The room grew quiet as everyone stood around, unsure how to comfort her. Zainab’s cheerful demeanor faltered as she tried to calm her cousin, but the sobs only seemed to get louder.

Hadia, who had been helping another client, came back into the room at the sound of the crying. Seeing the state Sana was in, her anger flared. She walked up to Sana, a stern look on her face. “What’s the matter?” she asked firmly, crossing her arms. She could see how deeply upset her younger cousin was, but the severity of the reaction only irritated her.

Zainab tried to step in, softly speaking to Sana. “Come on, it’s okay. You look great, you’ll see. You’re so brave for doing this,” she said, but Sana just shook her head, tears still streaming down her face.

Hadia turned to Zainab, her frustration growing. “She looks cute, but she’s still crying like this? She can’t keep going on like this.”

Sana’s sobs were nearly deafening, her chest heaving with each breath. Hadia placed a hand on her shoulder, her tone soft but firm. “What do you want, Sana?” she asked, her voice surprisingly gentle but carrying the weight of authority.

Sana struggled to get the words out between her sobs. “I want my long hair back…” she managed to say, her voice breaking.

Hadia, sensing the frustration in her cousin, looked down at her. “It’s cut now, Sana. It’s done. They can’t grow back long again, not right now,” she said firmly.

Sana’s anger flared, and she shouted through her tears, “I don’t want this haircut!”

Hadia watched her for a moment, then finally nodded, understanding what Sana was really saying. She sighed, turning to Sana’s mother, who had been standing quietly, uncertain of what to do. “Aunty, do I have your permission?” she asked firmly.

Mariam looked uncertain, but her concern for her daughter was evident. “But…” she started to protest, but Hadia interrupted her, her voice cutting through the room.

“It’s just hair,” Hadia said, her tone insistent. “Might as well go shorter if she’s so upset.”

Sana’s mother hesitated, glancing at Amina, who gave a small nod. “Alright,” Mariam said, resigned. “Do what you think is best.”

Hadia gave a sharp nod, the matter settled. She turned to Zainab, who had been standing back, observing quietly. “You go finish coloring the lady’s hair,” she said briskly, handing Zainab the bowl of color. “I’ll take care of this.”

Zainab gave a small, uncertain nod before turning to leave the room. Hadia took her place behind Sana’s chair, a more serious expression settling over her face.

Without another word, Hadia gently pushed Sana’s head forward, guiding her chin toward her chest. “Keep your head down, Sana,” she said, her voice firm but calm. “It’ll be over quickly.”

Sana, still crying softly but beginning to calm down, obeyed and lowered her head. She couldn’t see what Hadia was doing, but she felt the coldness of the clippers as they brushed against her neck. She had no idea what was about to happen.

Hadia pulled the clippers from the drawer, the buzzing sound of them filling the room with a sharp hum. She plugged them in, and the loud pop followed by a soft buzz made the air tense with anticipation. Sana flinched slightly as the clippers touched her neck, but she stayed still as Hadia moved the blades upward, her fingers steady on the machine.

“You enjoying this, Sana?” Hadia asked, her voice teasing but soft. She moved the clippers forward, pushing Sana’s hair out of her eyes as it fell in soft strands over her lap.

Sana, lost in the vibration of the clippers against her scalp, couldn’t help but close her eyes in a strange sense of comfort. She hadn’t expected the sensation to feel so soothing. She had no idea, however, that the clippers were buzzing away her hair, leaving only small stubbles barely covering her scalp.

The buzz continued, moving in all directions, as Hadia carefully shaved the hair from Sana’s head. She worked quickly but deliberately, trimming around the ears, down the back of the neck, and even the top of Sana’s head.

Finally, the room went quiet again as Hadia turned off the clippers. Sana’s head felt lighter, though she was still unaware of just how drastic the change was. Hadia’s voice, soft but final, broke the silence.

“Just as you wanted,” she said, a small, satisfied smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Before Sana could raise her head, Hadia gently removed the cape, brushing it aside. She grabbed a soft brush from the counter and began gently brushing Sana’s neck, head, and face. “That’s the last cut, Sana,” she said softly, her tone gentle but final. “After this, we can’t do anything. It’s all done.”

Sana’s heart pounded in her chest as Hadia’s words sank in. She felt an overwhelming sense of dread. Slowly, she lifted her head, her eyes unfocused as they landed on the mirror.

And then, it hit her.

Sana froze, her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. The reflection staring back at her was unrecognizable. All her long, knee-length hair was gone—completely shaved off. The only thing left was small stubbles barely covering her scalp, the soft fuzz of freshly buzzed hair.

Her eyes welled up with tears, but there was no sobbing now. There was only shock, confusion, and a deep, suffocating numbness. She had no words. She couldn’t understand what had just happened, what she was looking at. Her body stayed still as she stared into the mirror, her mind racing but unable to comprehend it.

Sana’s mother and Amina stood nearby, not knowing how to react. They, too, were uncertain how to handle the situation. Amina stepped forward and began to gently adjust Sana’s hijab, carefully wrapping it around her newly shaved head. She tried to hide the discomfort in her face as she secured the fabric, not wanting her younger sister to feel worse.

Sana’s mother, her voice hesitant, turned to Hadia. “How much is it?” she asked, still unsure of what had just transpired.

Hadia, with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, shook her head. “No, please. We’re family. I can’t take money from you,” she replied, her tone gentle yet firm.

Amina, having finished adjusting Sana’s hijab, gently took her hand. “Come on, Sana,” she said softly, guiding her to her feet. Despite the shock, Sana didn’t resist. She followed her sister out of the chair, still in a daze.

As they made their way toward the door, Sana’s mother turned once more to Hadia. “Thank you,” she said, her voice filled with gratitude, but also a trace of confusion. “We really appreciate everything.”

Sana’s smiled, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Thank Mariam and Zainab for me. It’s no problem. You’re family, after all.”

The trio left the salon, stepping into the warm summer air. Sana felt disconnected from the world around her, as if everything had become blurry and distant. The streets felt too bright, too loud, and yet everything inside her was cold and still.

As they walked toward home, Amina kept a gentle hold on her sister’s hand. Despite her own mixed emotions, Amina didn’t say anything more. She simply stayed close, knowing that Sana would need time to come to terms with what had happened.

Sana’s mind was spinning, but one thing was certain: her world had changed in a way she could never take back.

When they finally reached home, Sana still couldn’t believe what had happened. The door creaked open, and as they stepped inside, the warm, familiar scent of home hit her. But one thing was different—her world felt off balance.

Sana froze for a moment when she saw her father sitting on the couch, smiling and waiting for them. She had been trying to process everything, but seeing him now only made her emotions spill over. Before anyone could say anything, Sana rushed into her father’s arms, burying her face against his chest, her small frame trembling with sobs.

Her father, startled by her sudden outburst, pulled back slightly to look at his wife. “What happened?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Amina, who had been following closely behind, stepped forward. “It’s… it’s her hair, Baba,” she explained, trying to keep her own voice steady, though it was clear she was struggling. “The haircut didn’t go as planned. She… she was supposed to just have a little trimmed, but it ended up getting shorter and shorter, until… well, until it was shaved.”

Her father’s face darkened with confusion and concern. He turned to Sana, who was still crying quietly in his arms. “Come on, show me,” he said gently, though his voice betrayed a hint of worry.

Slowly, Sana pulled away, still sniffling. She hesitated, then carefully removed her hijab. The sight of her smooth, stubbled head made her heart ache all over again. She had no long hair anymore—no thick, beautiful locks that she had cherished for years. Her father’s eyes widened when he saw her head. He didn’t know how to react, but he instinctively pulled her close again.

“Oh, Sana,” he whispered, his heart aching for her. He kissed the top of her head, trying to console her. “Don’t worry, we’ll fix it. I’ll make sure you’re okay.”

Without another word, her father stood up and motioned for her to follow him. “Let’s go, Sana,” he said gently, “I’ll get it fixed.”

Sana nodded silently, still too upset to speak. She wrapped her hijab back around her head, but her mind was still lost in the overwhelming rush of emotions. She walked silently behind her father, though her heart was racing.

About an hour later, Sana and her father returned home. The front door clicked shut, and her mother and Amina, both still anxiously waiting, exchanged a concerned look.

Sana entered the house, and without saying a word, started to head toward her room. But her mother stopped her, her voice sharp with worry. “What happened, Sana?” she asked, her eyes filled with concern.

Sana didn’t respond. She only slowly removed her hijab once more, and as she did, her mother’s breath caught in her throat. The stubble that had been left from the buzzcut was gone, leaving behind a completely smooth, bald scalp. The transformation was stark, and it was clear to her mother that something had happened that was far beyond what anyone had expected.

Sana didn’t wait for a response. She ran to her room, tears streaming down her face, the weight of her loss too much for her to bear.

Her mother, in a mixture of shock and fear, turned to her husband. “What did you do?!” she exclaimed. “What happened to her hair? Why is it all gone?”

The father, who had been standing quietly for a moment, let out a small sigh. He had been hoping that Sana’s reaction would have been less intense, but now he understood the full scope of what had occurred. “I thought,” he began, choosing his words carefully, “that since she already had the buzz, might as well go all the way.”

He paused, his voice softening. “So, I took her to the barber. I had him shave it completely. She’ll have it grown back before she knows it. It’s just hair, after all.”

Sana’s mother stood frozen, her mind racing, trying to understand why her husband thought that would make things better. “But… but it’s gone! Completely gone!” she said in disbelief.

Her husband looked at her, his expression softened by regret. “I didn’t want to make her feel worse about the change. I thought… I thought she might feel more at peace if it was done all at once.”

But Sana’s mother didn’t respond. She stood still, lost in thought. What had started as a simple summer haircut had spiraled into something so much more. All she could do now was pray that her daughter would be okay with the new reality she had been thrust into.

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