The Price of Submission Pt2

Layla twirled the scissors in her fingers, tilting her head as she pretended to consider how to begin. “Hmm, maybe I should start with some layers… or maybe I should just—”

Before she could finish, the salon door suddenly swung open.

Mariam stepped in, setting down her handbag on the counter. “What’s going on here?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she took in the scene—Sana, sitting rigidly in the chair, her long damp hair hanging down her back, and Layla standing behind her, scissors in hand.

Layla, caught off guard for only a brief second, quickly put on her sweetest smile. “Oh, hey, Mom! I was just helping Sana out. She wanted a trim, and since you weren’t here, I thought I’d do it for her.”

Mariam’s eyes narrowed slightly. Something about the situation felt off. Sana was too tense, her hands gripping the chair’s armrests, and Layla’s tone was a little too casual.

“Sana,” Mariam said, her voice softer but firm, “is that true?”

Layla’s grip on Sana’s shoulder tightened subtly, a silent warning. Sana swallowed hard before nodding. “Y-yes… I wanted a trim,” she said, forcing a small, unconvincing smile.

Mariam’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before she let out a small sigh. “Alright, then. If you want a trim, let me do it.” She walked over, holding out her hand. “Give me the scissors, Layla.”

Layla pouted slightly but handed them over without argument. “Fine,” she said, stepping aside.

Mariam took her place behind Sana, gently combing through her hair with practiced hands. “You should’ve waited for me, Layla. A trim might seem easy, but it’s best to let a professional handle it.”

Layla giggled, leaning against the counter. “I was just trying to help! Besides, I was telling Sana how much fun short hair can be. She should really try something different for once.”

Sana’s stomach twisted at Layla’s words, but she forced herself to stay calm. Now that Mariam was here, the situation felt much less tense.

Mariam, focused on her work, smiled slightly. “Short hair is fun, but it’s not for everyone. Some girls love their long hair.” She sectioned off the ends and began snipping away, evening out the damp strands with smooth, precise movements.

Layla crossed her arms, her tone still playful. “Yeah, but I think Sana would look really cute with something fresh! Maybe even an undercut like mine.”

Sana stiffened slightly, but she quickly relaxed and played along, forcing out a light chuckle. “I-I don’t know about that… I think I’ll just stick to a trim for now.”

Mariam chuckled. “That’s her choice, Layla. Not everyone has to be as bold as you.”

Layla smirked but said nothing, simply watching as Mariam continued trimming Sana’s hair with gentle precision.

Sana exhaled quietly, relieved that the situation hadn’t escalated further. But deep down, she knew that Layla wasn’t done with her yet.

As Mariam unfastened the cape, she paused, realizing just how tightly it had been secured around Sana’s neck. A soft frown crossed her face as she loosened it.

“Oh, dear, I had no idea Layla tied it this tight,” she said, concern lacing her voice. “That must have been uncomfortable. I’m sorry about that.”

Sana, despite everything, simply smiled and shook her head. “It’s okay, really. She just did it to make sure I stayed still. For my safety.”

Mariam gave her a skeptical look, but seeing no signs of distress, she let out a small sigh and ruffled Sana’s shoulder affectionately. “If you say so.”

Sana stood up, smoothing down her uniform as she reached for her hijab. “I should get going now. It’s getting late.” She carefully wrapped her hair and turned to Mariam with a polite nod. “Thank you so much, Mariam. And you too, Layla.” Her voice was steady, but there was a clear distance in her tone when she spoke to Layla.

Layla noticed.

She grinned, acting casual. “Anytime, little servant.”

Sana gave her a fleeting glance, not even forcing a smile this time, before heading out the door.

As soon as she was gone, Mariam turned to Layla, her expression shifting from warm to slightly irritated. “Layla,” she said in a firmer tone, “what was really going on here?”

Layla, still leaning against the counter, folded her arms and tilted her head. “I told you, Mom. Sana wanted a trim, and I was just helping her out since you weren’t here.”

Mariam narrowed her eyes. “And she told me the same thing. But if something was wrong, would she have really said anything in front of you?”

Layla shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, that’s on her, isn’t it? If she had a problem, she could’ve spoken up.”

Mariam studied her daughter for a long moment, then let out a sigh. “You didn’t force her into anything, did you?”

Layla smirked. “Mom, come on. You know Sana—she wouldn’t let me do anything she didn’t secretly want.”

Mariam exhaled through her nose but didn’t press further. “Just… be mindful of your friend, Layla.”

Layla only smiled.

The Next Morning

Layla stood at the school gate, shifting on her feet impatiently. She kept glancing at her watch, waiting.

Finally, she spotted Sana approaching in the distance.

Sana walked with her usual composed posture, her hijab neatly in place. But as she neared Layla, she didn’t slow down. She wasn’t looking at Layla with her usual warm expression—there was no shy smile, no hint of nervous obedience. Instead, there was something different in her eyes.

Layla stepped in front of her, forcing Sana to stop. “Hey,” she said, softer than usual. “I wanted to say… I’m sorry about yesterday.”

Sana’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You should be.”

Layla blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Oh, come on, Sana. You know I was just messing around—”

“No, Layla.” Sana’s voice was firmer than Layla had ever heard it. “You weren’t just messing around. You almost cut my hair against my will. You—” She stopped herself, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “You went too far.”

Layla opened her mouth, then shut it.

She had seen Sana upset before, had even enjoyed teasing her when she got flustered. But this… this was different.

Sana wasn’t just upset. She was angry.

And for the first time, Layla didn’t know how to fix it.

Layla could feel Sana slipping further away with every passing second. Desperation creeping into her tone, she suddenly blurted out, “Okay, if you want, you can slap me. Right here, in front of everyone.”

Sana turned her head slightly, eyes narrowing. “What?”

“I mean it,” Layla insisted. “If that will make you feel better, do it. I was really, really sorry. And you know I can’t control myself when I get like that.”

Sana scoffed, folding her arms. “That’s your excuse? That you can’t control yourself?”

Layla bit her lip, realizing that wasn’t exactly the best defense. She hesitated, then changed tactics. “Fine,” she said, her voice suddenly more serious. “Then let’s make a deal. If you still don’t believe I’m sorry… you can choose my haircut. Anything you want. I’ll get it done today. Just say the word.”

Sana stared at her, her frustration evident in her clenched jaw.

Layla watched her carefully, hoping she would just brush it off or pick something harmless. But instead, Sana’s anger pushed her to say something extreme.

“Okay. Fine,” Sana said sharply. “Then cut it all to the length of your undercut. If you really want me to forgive you, get it done. Otherwise, don’t bother me again.”

Layla’s eyes widened. She hadn’t expected that.

Sana didn’t wait for a response. She turned and walked into the school building without another glance at Layla, leaving her standing at the gate, stunned.

For the entire day, Layla kept trying to get Sana’s attention, flashing her usual confident smile, cracking jokes, even offering to carry her books. But nothing worked. Sana ignored her completely, making it clear that she had drawn a line.

For the first time, Layla felt genuinely guilty. She had never meant to push Sana this far.

If this was what it took to make things right, so be it.

As soon as she got home, Layla headed straight for the home salon, where Mariam was tidying up after a client.

“Mom,” she said, her tone unusually serious. “Can you cut my hair?”

Mariam raised an eyebrow, setting down her comb. “Again? Didn’t we just do your undercut recently?”

Layla shrugged, acting casual. “Yeah, but I’ve been thinking… it’s causing problems. My ponytail keeps coming loose because of it.”

Mariam studied her for a moment, clearly sensing there was more to it. “Alright,” she said finally. “What do you have in mind?”

Layla hesitated for just a second before saying, “A bowl cut. Just to where my undercut ends.”

Mariam’s brows lifted slightly in surprise. “That’s a big change,” she noted.

Layla nodded, maintaining her carefree act. “I know. I just feel like doing something different.”

Mariam tilted her head, still unconvinced. “Does this have anything to do with Sana?”

Layla hesitated for just a moment before flashing a grin. “Mom, not everything is about Sana.”

Mariam gave her a knowing look but didn’t push further. “Alright, then. Let’s get started.”

Layla took a deep breath and stepped toward the chair. She had made a promise, and she intended to keep it.

Layla settled into the salon chair, her heart pounding slightly despite the confident front she put on. Mariam grabbed a black cape, shaking it out before draping it over her daughter’s shoulders. As she fastened it securely around Layla’s neck, she smiled.

“You sure about this?” Mariam asked one last time, resting her hands on Layla’s shoulders.

Layla gave a small smirk, nodding. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

Mariam picked up a wide-toothed comb and began running it through Layla’s thick, dark locks, smoothing out any tangles. The feeling was familiar, comforting even, but the knowledge that soon all this hair would be gone made Layla feel an odd mix of excitement and nervousness.

She had always been bold with her looks, but this time, it wasn’t just for fun—this was about proving something. To Sana. To herself.

Mariam parted Layla’s hair, sectioning off the top portion and clipping it away, leaving only the hair that would be cut to match her undercut. Layla could already feel the cool air on the shaved portion at the back of her head, knowing that soon, the rest would be joining it.

Mariam picked up the scissors and held them up with a teasing grin. “Last chance to change your mind.”

Layla rolled her eyes. “Mom, just do it already.”

With that, Mariam took a firm hold of a thick section of Layla’s hair and, with a decisive SNIP, the first lock tumbled down onto the cape.

Layla exhaled sharply as she watched the strands slide down into her lap.

There was no turning back now.

Mariam continued cutting, working efficiently but carefully, ensuring the hair was cut evenly all around. With each snip, more of Layla’s long hair fell, creating a growing pile on the floor beneath her.

Layla remained still, feeling the weight of her hair being lifted away. She kept a smirk on her lips, but deep down, she was already anticipating the shock on Sana’s face tomorrow.

Once the main length was gone, Mariam switched to finer scissors, carefully shaping the bowl cut so that it was even, with a clean, blunt line circling Layla’s head just above her ears. The contrast between the sharply cut top and the buzzed undercut made the style bold, edgy—exactly what Layla wanted.

After perfecting the shape, Mariam grabbed the clippers. “Time to clean up the undercut,” she said, flicking them on.

The low buzz filled the room, and Layla felt a chill as the clippers touched the nape of her neck, gliding smoothly upward. She was no stranger to the sensation, but this time, it was different. She was shedding more than just hair—she was proving a point.

Mariam expertly cleaned up the undercut, blending it neatly into the newly cut bowl shape. She stepped back, tilting her head as she examined her work.

“Not bad,” she said with a proud smile.

Layla grinned, reaching up to run her fingers along the freshly buzzed nape, then over the sharp line of her new cut. The contrast was striking—the soft, straight top and the bare, exposed undercut beneath it.

It was different. It was daring.

And it was perfect.

Mariam unfastened the cape, shaking off the fallen strands before draping it over the chair. Layla stood up, brushing her hands over her clothes and looking at herself in the mirror.

She smirked. “Well, that’s one way to make an apology memorable.”

Mariam chuckled, crossing her arms. “You better not have done this on a dare.”

Layla turned, giving her mother an innocent look. “Of course not. I just wanted something new.”

Mariam raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. “Well, I hope you like it because it’ll take a while to grow out.”

Layla grinned. “Oh, I love it.”

And with that, she had only one thing left to do—show Sana.

Layla stood outside the school gates, her hands casually tucked into her pockets, waiting for Sana. A cool breeze brushed against her freshly shaved nape, sending an exhilarating shiver down her spine. The feeling was addicting.

Her new haircut was bold—very bold. The stark contrast between the sleek, sharply-cut bowl and the completely shaved undercut was impossible to ignore. She had already caught stares on the way to school, whispers of shock and admiration following her every step. Layla didn’t mind—she thrived on attention. But the real reaction she was waiting for was Sana’s.

Then, she spotted her.

Sana walked toward the school entrance, her usual composed expression in place—until her gaze landed on Layla.

She froze.

Layla smirked as she watched Sana’s eyes widen in disbelief. The way her friend’s lips parted slightly, her steps faltering—it was perfect.

Sana rushed up to her, gripping her arm. “Layla… what did you do?”

Layla tilted her head dramatically, making sure Sana got a full view of the sharp, perfectly shaped bowl cut and the freshly exposed undercut beneath it. She then turned around, lifting her hair slightly to let Sana see just how far it went.

“Just keeping my promise,” Layla said smugly. “You said I should cut it up to my undercut if I was really sorry. So… I did.”

Sana blinked rapidly, still staring in shock. “I— I didn’t think you’d actually do it!”

Layla shrugged. “Well, I did. So, am I forgiven now?”

Sana hesitated, looking at the dramatic transformation before sighing in defeat. “You’re insane, Layla.”

Layla grinned. “You love me for it, though.”

Sana bit her lip, clearly still processing it all. “I mean… it does look good on you,” she admitted, her fingers twitching as if she wanted to reach out and touch the freshly shaved nape.

Layla leaned in closer. “Go on, you know you want to.”

Sana flushed but hesitated only for a second before lightly brushing her fingers over the buzzed area. The soft, velvety texture was strangely satisfying, and she felt a strange mix of envy and admiration.

Layla smirked at the look on her face. “See? Told you short hair was fun.”

Sana quickly pulled her hand away, shaking her head. “That doesn’t mean I’m doing it!”

Layla chuckled. “Not yet, anyway.”

Sana huffed. “You’re impossible.”

Layla just flashed her a playful wink. “And you’re stuck with me.”

With that, she threw an arm around Sana’s shoulders, leading her toward the school building. The tension from the previous day had vanished, replaced with their usual dynamic—Sana rolling her eyes at Layla’s antics while Layla reveled in pushing her buttons.

The difference was, this time, Layla had proven something.

And Sana would never forget it.

Weeks passed, and life at school returned to normal. Layla, as usual, remained the center of attention—her daring bowl cut had become the talk of the school. Some admired it, some were shocked, and others, like Sana, found themselves unconsciously intrigued.

Sana wouldn’t admit it out loud, but ever since that day, she couldn’t stop thinking about Layla’s haircut.

Every time Layla would run her fingers through her hair, every time she casually showed off her freshly buzzed undercut, every time Sana accidentally brushed against it—it made her heart race just a little.

But more than that, it made her curious.

One day, as they sat outside during lunch break, Layla was lazily leaning against a tree, her legs stretched out in front of her while Sana sat beside her, quietly picking at her food.

Layla yawned and ruffled her hair. “Ugh, it’s already growing out. I need to have my undercut cleaned up again.”

Sana glanced at her before quickly looking away. “You just got it done last week…”

Layla smirked. “Exactly. It feels way better when it’s fresh.” She then nudged Sana with her foot. “You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?”

Sana stiffened. “What? No!”

Layla gave her a knowing look. “Mhm. Sure.”

There was silence between them, only the sound of students chatting around the schoolyard. Layla stretched her arms over her head and closed her eyes, letting the sun hit her face.

Then, out of nowhere, Sana spoke.

“Do you think… I should get a haircut?”

Layla’s eyes snapped open.

For a moment, she thought she had misheard. But no—Sana was looking down at her lap, fingers lightly gripping the fabric of her uniform, her voice quiet but serious.

Layla sat up straight, fully turning to face her. “Wait. Are you serious?”

Sana swallowed, still not meeting her gaze. “I… I don’t know. Maybe. I just…” She hesitated before continuing. “It’s just hair, right? It’ll grow back.”

Layla’s lips slowly curled into a mischievous smile. “Sana, are you actually considering it?”

Sana hesitated before sighing. “Maybe just a trim.”

Layla scoffed. “A trim? Please. If you’re gonna do it, do it properly.”

Sana shot her a glare. “I knew you’d say that.”

Layla grinned. “Come on, Sana. You know you want to.”

Sana bit her lip, deep in thought. She had been thinking about it a lot. And it wasn’t like she had to go as short as Layla… right?

She exhaled. “I’ll think about it.”

Layla smirked, leaning in close. “That’s not a no.”

Sana rolled her eyes. “I said I’ll think about it.”

Layla just chuckled, leaning back against the tree with a satisfied look.

She had won the first battle.

Now, it was only a matter of time.

The next morning, everything seemed ordinary. Sana and Layla walked to school together, chatting about random things—teachers, exams, the usual gossip floating around the school. Sana was laughing at something Layla said when suddenly, she noticed the shift.

Layla’s expression changed.

Her playful smirk had sharpened into something more… intentional. She slowed her pace just slightly, falling a step behind Sana, her eyes scanning her up and down like a predator analyzing its prey.

Sana didn’t realize it immediately.

But when she felt Layla’s hand grip her wrist firmly—just tight enough to make her heart skip—she knew.

Layla was in one of those moods.

Sana’s stomach tightened.

She knew exactly what this meant.

Layla leaned in, her voice just above a whisper. “You remember the rules, don’t you?”

Sana’s breath hitched. She nodded automatically.

Layla smirked. “Good.”

Sana swallowed. Today was going to be a long day.

From the moment they stepped onto the school grounds, Layla made it clear—Sana would obey today.

Sana was made to carry Layla’s bag.

She was made to fetch Layla’s water from the canteen.

She was made to wait outside Layla’s class between periods, just in case Layla needed something.

Layla didn’t even have to order her outright most of the time—one glance, one raised eyebrow, and Sana knew what she had to do.

At lunch, Layla took Sana’s seat, forcing her to stand next to her.

When Sana hesitated to do something, Layla’s fingers would gently graze her ear—a silent reminder of what could happen if she disobeyed.

And every time Layla caught Sana looking irritated or frustrated, she would grin.

Layla loved this.

Sana hated that she loved it too.

Sana’s feet ached as she trailed behind Layla, her schoolbag slung over one shoulder, while Layla strutted ahead like she owned the world. It had been a long day at school, made even longer by Layla’s relentless commands.

“Little Servant, tie my shoelace,” Layla had ordered in the middle of the hallway, smirking as Sana hesitated before kneeling down to obey.

“Little Servant, carry my bag,” she had added later, tossing her heavy bag onto Sana’s shoulder.

Sana had tried to protest—just a little, just to see if today could be different. But Layla’s sharp glare, the one that promised punishment, made her swallow her words.

Now, as they stepped out of the school gates, Sana let out a breath of relief. Maybe this was the end of today’s torment. Maybe she could finally go home and rest.

But Layla had other plans.

“You’re coming with me,” Layla announced, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Sana blinked. “But I have homework—”

Layla turned to her, stepping closer until their noses almost touched. “Little Servant,” she whispered, her voice dripping with authority. “Do you really want me to stop using words?”

Sana swallowed hard. The last time Layla had said that, she had twisted her ear so hard it stung for hours.

“No…” Sana muttered, lowering her gaze.

“Good girl,” Layla purred, running her fingers under Sana’s chin before gripping it firmly. “Now, let’s go.”

With Sana carrying both of their bags, they walked toward Layla’s house. Each step felt heavier than the last, a silent warning of what was to come.

The moment they stepped inside, Sana knew she was trapped. The house was eerily quiet. Layla’s mother wasn’t home.

Perfect.

Layla took off her shoes, stretching like a cat that had just cornered its prey. She tossed her blazer onto the couch and turned to Sana, who still stood near the door, clutching both bags.

“Drop them,” Layla ordered.

Sana obeyed immediately.

Layla smirked. “Now, go to my room.”

Sana hesitated. “Layla, I—”

A sharp slap across her cheek silenced her.

Layla leaned in, her breath warm against Sana’s ear. “Did I say you could talk?”

Sana shook her head, eyes watering.

“That’s right.” Layla grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her upstairs.

Inside Layla’s room, Sana stood still, hands clasped in front of her. She already knew what was coming.

Layla flopped onto her bed, stretching out lazily before sitting up and patting the floor in front of her.

“Kneel.”

Sana hesitated. Another slap—this time on the back of her head.

“I said kneel.”

Biting her lip, Sana lowered herself onto the floor, kneeling in front of Layla like an obedient pet.

Layla ran a hand through Sana’s thick hair, playing with the strands. “So much hair…” she mused, tugging at it slightly.

Sana winced.

“You know, Little Servant,” Layla said, her voice sweet but laced with something sinister, “you really should do something about this mess.”

Sana stiffened.

Layla grinned, seeing her reaction. She leaned down, tucking a loose strand behind Sana’s ear.

“You saw my new haircut, didn’t you?” Layla continued. “Short, clean, easy to manage… and so freeing.”

Sana remained silent, her heart pounding.

Layla sighed dramatically. “But I suppose a girl like you wouldn’t understand. You probably like hiding under that hijab, pretending to be invisible.”

Sana’s fists clenched in her lap.

Layla smirked, sensing her frustration. “Unless… you’re too scared?”

Sana’s head snapped up. “I’m not scared.”

Layla laughed. “Oh really? Then prove it.”

Sana opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Layla tilted her head. “Go on. Say it.”

Sana swallowed.

“Say you want a haircut.”

Silence.

Layla sighed, rubbing her temples. “Tsk, tsk. Looks like we have to do this the hard way.”

Before Sana could react, Layla grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back.

Sana gasped, tears forming in her eyes. “Layla, please—”

“Say it,” Layla ordered, her grip tightening.

Sana whimpered. “I-I…”

Layla tugged harder.

“I want a haircut!” Sana finally blurted out, panting.

Layla released her, clapping her hands in delight. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Sana sat there, trembling. She had said it. She had actually said it.

But Layla wasn’t finished.

“Not just any haircut,” Layla said, brushing a hand over her own short hair. “You’re going shorter than me.”

Sana’s eyes widened in horror. “No—”

Layla’s fingers wrapped around her chin, tilting her face up. “Yes.”

Sana bit her lip, tears threatening to fall.

Layla wiped a stray tear with her thumb, her touch deceptively gentle. “Oh, don’t cry, Little Servant,” she cooed. “You’ll thank me later.”

Sana’s body felt numb. She had no choice. She never did.

“Now, let’s go see my mother,” Layla said, standing up and stretching. “And this time, you’ll be the one asking for it.”

Sana’s stomach twisted into knots.

There was no turning back now.

Layla stretched her arms above her head, sighing in satisfaction. The thrill of breaking Sana, of making her submit, sent a rush of pleasure through her. But just as she was about to call her mother downstairs, she suddenly remembered—

“Oh.” Layla turned back to Sana, a slow, wicked grin creeping onto her lips. “Mother’s not home yet.”

Sana, still kneeling on the floor, barely lifted her head, her eyes glistening with unspoken fear.

Layla tapped a finger against her lips, feigning deep thought. Then, as if struck by inspiration, she gasped theatrically. “Well, Little Servant, since we have some time… why don’t we have some fun?”

Sana’s breath hitched. She knew what that meant.

Layla walked over to her study chair and plopped down, crossing her legs like a queen on her throne. She leaned back comfortably, gazing down at Sana, who remained frozen on the floor.

“Strip off your blazer.”

Sana flinched. “W-what?”

Layla rolled her eyes, clicking her tongue. “Are you deaf, Little Servant? Take. It. Off.”

Sana hesitated, but the sharp glare Layla shot her left no room for defiance. With shaky fingers, she unbuttoned her school blazer and slid it off her shoulders, folding it neatly in front of her as if that would somehow restore her dignity.

Layla laughed. “Oh, you really are pathetic.” She pointed at the floor beside her. “Now, on all fours. Crawl to me.”

Sana’s cheeks burned with humiliation, but she obeyed, slowly lowering herself onto her hands and knees. The wooden floor felt cold beneath her palms as she crawled forward, her head hanging low.

Layla’s foot suddenly lifted, pressing against Sana’s forehead, stopping her just before she reached the chair.

“Ah-ah,” Layla teased, tilting her head. “Who said you could look up? Eyes down.”

Sana squeezed her eyes shut, biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from crying.

Layla’s foot trailed down to Sana’s shoulder, pushing her down further, until Sana’s forehead touched the floor. “That’s more like it,” Layla purred, wiggling her toes against Sana’s covered shoulder. “Now, kiss it.”

Sana’s entire body tensed.

Layla giggled. “What’s wrong? Too proud, Little Servant?”

Sana remained still.

Layla sighed dramatically. Then—SLAP!—her foot smacked against the side of Sana’s face, just hard enough to sting.

“I said, kiss it.”

Tears pricked at Sana’s eyes as she hesitated for only a second before leaning down, pressing her lips against the top of Layla’s foot through her sock.

Layla beamed. “Good girl. You’re learning.”

She retracted her foot and clapped her hands together. “Now, let’s get serious.”

Sana’s shoulders stiffened.

Layla stood from her chair and walked around Sana, circling her like a predator. “Let’s see… what else can we do while we wait?” She hummed, pretending to think.

Then, she snapped her fingers. “Oh! I know. You’re going to give me a massage.”

Sana lifted her gaze slightly.

Layla smirked. “What? Did you think I was going to let you sit there and do nothing? Get up and get behind me.”

With wobbly legs, Sana pushed herself up and moved behind Layla, who sat down on the edge of the bed, rolling her shoulders.

“Start with my shoulders,” Layla ordered.

Sana reached forward hesitantly, placing her hands on Layla’s shoulders and applying light pressure.

Layla scoffed. “Is that all you’ve got? You call that a massage?”

Sana pressed harder, her fingers trembling.

Layla let out a content sigh, tilting her head slightly. “Mmm… there we go. Keep going.”

Minutes passed, and Sana’s arms began to ache, but she didn’t dare stop.

Layla’s fingers suddenly reached up, tracing the edge of her own freshly cut hair. “You know,” she mused, “I think you’re going to look so adorable with short hair, Little Servant.”

Sana’s stomach twisted.

Layla leaned back into the massage, closing her eyes. “I bet it’ll feel amazing, just like mine does. So easy to wash, no weight pulling you down… no need to hide under that hijab anymore.”

Sana remained silent, her hands shaking as she continued the massage.

Layla smirked, feeling her hesitation. “Tell me, Little Servant… are you excited?”

Sana swallowed hard.

Layla turned her head slightly, just enough to see Sana’s expression. “Answer me.”

Sana bit her lip. “I… I don’t know.”

Layla tsked in disappointment. “Wrong answer.”

Before Sana could react, Layla reached up, grabbing Sana’s wrist and twisting it slightly—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make her yelp.

“Try again,” Layla said sweetly.

Sana gasped, struggling to keep her composure. “I-I… yes.”

Layla let go and patted her lap. “That’s better. Now, let’s move on. Sit here.”

Sana blinked. “W-where?”

Layla patted her own lap again, grinning. “Right here, like a good little lapdog.”

Sana hesitated, but Layla’s eyes darkened, daring her to disobey.

Heart pounding, Sana moved forward and carefully sat on Layla’s lap, stiff and uncomfortable.

Layla wrapped her arms around Sana’s waist, pulling her in close. “See? Isn’t this nice?”

Sana barely nodded.

Layla giggled, leaning in until her lips were right next to Sana’s ear. “I can’t wait to see you in that chair,” she whispered. “Begging for a nice, short haircut.”

A shiver ran down Sana’s spine.

Layla chuckled, her grip tightening slightly. “Now, what do we say?”

Sana swallowed the lump in her throat.

“…Th-thank you.”

Layla grinned, leaning back in satisfaction. “Good girl.”

Just then, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the house.

Layla’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “Looks like mother’s home.”

She nudged Sana forward, pushing her off her lap.

Sana stumbled slightly but quickly straightened herself, her heart pounding.

Layla dusted herself off and stood. “Go on, Little Servant.” She motioned toward the door. “Time to get your haircut.”

Sana’s breath hitched.

There was no escaping this.

The sound of the front door clicking shut sent a jolt through Sana’s already tense body. Her heart pounded as Layla grinned, stretching her arms casually, as if this were just another ordinary day.

“Well, well,” Layla hummed. “Looks like it’s time.” She clapped her hands together and leaned in close to Sana, her voice dripping with amusement. “You know what to do, don’t you, Little Servant?”

Sana’s fingers curled into fists. Her body still ached from the humiliating tasks she had been forced to do, and now… now she was about to walk into yet another trap.

Layla leaned against the doorframe, watching Sana with predatory amusement. “You’re going to be such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

Sana swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “…Yes.”

Layla beamed. “That’s my Little Servant.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel and led the way downstairs, her steps light and playful. Sana followed silently, feeling like she was walking toward her own doom.

As they entered the living room, Mariam was setting her bag down on the table. She looked up, a warm smile spreading across her face. “Oh, you girls are still here?”

Layla skipped forward, throwing her arms around her mother in an exaggerated hug. “Of course, Mama! We were just having so much fun while waiting for you.”

Mariam chuckled, stroking her daughter’s back. “That’s nice, sweetheart.” Her eyes flickered to Sana, who stood stiffly near the staircase, her hands tightly clasped in front of her. “You okay, dear?”

Before Sana could open her mouth, Layla swooped in, grabbing Sana’s hand and tugging her forward. “Oh, Mama! Guess what?” she chirped, bouncing slightly on her heels. “Sana has something she wants to ask you!”

Sana’s breath hitched. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

Mariam raised an eyebrow, looking between the two girls. “Oh?”

Sana’s eyes darted toward Layla in panic, but Layla was all smiles, tilting her head innocently. “Go on, Little Servant,” she cooed under her breath, just loud enough for Sana to hear. “Be a good girl now.”

Sana inhaled sharply. She had no choice.

She turned to Mariam, forcing her voice to sound steady. “A-auntie… I-I was thinking…” She hesitated, feeling Layla’s hand press lightly against the small of her back—a silent warning.

“I… I want a haircut,” Sana finally blurted.

Mariam blinked in surprise. “Oh?” She studied Sana’s expression carefully. “Are you sure, dear?”

Layla gasped dramatically, squeezing Sana’s arm. “Isn’t it so exciting, Mama? She told me earlier that she’s been thinking about it for a while!”

Sana’s mouth felt dry. “Y-yes.”

Mariam’s brows furrowed slightly. “Well, that’s quite a change. You’ve always kept your hair long.”

Sana opened her mouth, searching for an excuse—anything to make this seem natural. But before she could come up with a response, Layla jumped in.

“She’s just been so inspired lately!” Layla giggled, linking her arm through Sana’s. “You know, after seeing my new haircut and how easy it is to manage, she started thinking… maybe she’d like one too!”

Mariam tilted her head. “Hmm…”

Layla giggled, swinging their linked arms playfully. “Come on, Mama! I mean, you’re the best hairdresser ever! And it’s not like hair doesn’t grow back, right?”

Mariam tapped her fingers against the table, still watching Sana closely.

Sana felt her heart hammering against her ribs. If she hesitated too much, Mariam might sense something was wrong. And if that happened… Layla would make her regret it.

Summoning every ounce of strength she had left, Sana forced a smile and nodded. “Yes, auntie. I… I want you to cut my hair.”

Mariam exhaled, finally softening. “Alright, dear. If that’s what you really want.”

Layla squealed in delight, clapping her hands. “Yay! This is so exciting! Mama, you should totally give her a short, fresh new look!”

Mariam chuckled, ruffling Layla’s hair. “Alright, alright. Let’s head to the salon.”

Layla turned to Sana, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she leaned in, whispering against her ear.

“Good girl, Little Servant,” she breathed. “Now let’s make you pretty.”

Sana’s stomach twisted.

She had just sealed her own fate.

The salon smelled of shampoo and freshly cleaned floors, a scent that Sana now associated with unsettling memories. The gleaming mirrors reflected the three of them as Mariam walked ahead, guiding the girls inside.

Sana’s feet felt heavy, each step echoing in her mind like the ticking of a countdown. She had been in this room before—first for her nape shave, which had been thrilling in a strange way, and then for the near disaster when Layla had nearly chopped her hair before Mariam saved her.

But this time… there was no escape.

“Alright, dear,” Mariam said warmly, patting the chair. “Have a seat.”

Sana hesitated for only a second before Layla’s hand pressed lightly against her lower back, a silent push forward.

“Go on, Little Servant,” Layla murmured sweetly, just for her to hear.

Sana swallowed the lump in her throat and sat down. The leather was cool against her arms as she settled in, gripping the armrests tightly.

Mariam reached for a cape, shaking it out with a practiced flick before draping it over Sana’s shoulders. The heavy fabric cascaded down, covering her completely, sealing her fate like a shroud. As Mariam pulled the edges around her neck, securing it snugly, she spoke in a gentle tone.

“So, what are we doing today?”

Sana opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her mind raced, looking for a way to delay, to escape—but there was none.

Layla wasted no time. “She should go short, Mama,” she said eagerly, stepping beside the chair with a gleam in her eyes.

Mariam chuckled, shaking her head. “It’s Sana’s choice, sweetheart. Let her decide.” She turned back to the girl in the chair. “Well, dear? What are you thinking?”

Sana’s lips parted again, but the words wouldn’t come.

Layla leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching her with quiet amusement. Sana could feel her there, looming like a shadow.

“Something short,” Layla murmured again, this time softer, almost coaxing.

Mariam, still adjusting the cape, nodded. “Alright, we can do something lighter. Maybe some layers? A nice trim to shape it up?”

Sana hesitated. That… that wouldn’t be so bad.

But then, as if sensing her thoughts, Layla let out a tiny, almost disappointed sigh. Just enough to make Sana’s heart skip.

Sana dropped her gaze. “Shorter,” she whispered.

Mariam blinked in surprise. “Shorter?”

Layla beamed but stayed silent, letting things unfold naturally.

Mariam began suggesting cuts. “Well, we could do a shoulder-length cut—very classic, very easy to manage.”

Sana inhaled deeply. “Shorter.”

Mariam’s brow furrowed slightly, but she nodded. “Alright… maybe a chin-length bob? It would be stylish and still give you some length to frame your face.”

Sana clenched her hands beneath the cape. “Shorter.”

Layla let out a small giggle, quickly covering it with a cough.

Mariam, now visibly surprised, tilted her head. “A pixie cut, then? That would be a big change.”

Sana’s throat tightened. Her skin burned under Layla’s knowing gaze. She forced herself to meet Mariam’s eyes through the mirror and nodded. “Shorter.”

This time, Mariam’s hands stilled. “Sana…” she said carefully, studying the girl’s reflection. “Are you sure?”

The room was filled with a tense silence. Mariam’s question hung in the air like a warning, but Sana knew she couldn’t back out now.

Layla finally broke her silence, placing a hand on Sana’s shoulder, squeezing it just enough for her to feel the unspoken command beneath her touch.

Mariam sighed, rubbing her chin. “Well, the only thing shorter than a pixie would be—” She stopped, chuckling to herself. “Unless you want a bowl cut like Layla.”

Sana felt the weight of the moment pressing down on her. The cape was suffocating. The walls seemed to close in. She opened her mouth, heart hammering.

Then, before she could stop herself, she whispered:

“Shorter.”

The room fell dead silent.

Mariam’s smile faded. Her hands lowered. Even Layla, for all her amusement, went momentarily still.

Mariam turned fully, her gaze sharp now, scanning Sana’s face as if trying to read something between the lines. “Sana,” she said slowly, “what exactly do you mean by shorter?”

Sana forced herself to swallow, to keep her voice steady. She glanced at Layla’s reflection—the sharp line of her bowl cut, the bare skin of her nape—then back at her own long, dark hair cascading down the back of the chair.

She met Mariam’s eyes through the mirror.

“I want it shaved,” she said, barely above a whisper. “Shorter than Layla’s.”

Mariam’s lips parted in shock.

Layla, behind her, grinned.

Sana had just crossed the final line. There was no turning back now.

Mariam’s hands were still frozen in place, her lips slightly parted as she processed Sana’s words. It wasn’t just the request—it was the way Sana had said it, the way her voice had barely made it past her lips, as if the words were forced out against her will.

A second passed. Then another.

“Sana,” Mariam said slowly, her voice gentle but firm, “are you sure about this?”

Sana opened her mouth to answer, but no words came. Her throat tightened. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even think. All she could feel was Layla’s presence behind her, the warmth of her hand still lingering on her shoulder from earlier, the subtle power in the way she had squeezed it.

She had no choice now.

Sana lowered her eyes, inhaled sharply, and gave a small, hesitant nod.

Mariam let out a quiet breath, studying the girl through the mirror. Even though Sana had agreed, something still didn’t sit right with her.

“Well…” Mariam hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “Shorter than a bowl cut would mean something much more drastic. Something like… a tapered cut.”

The moment the words left her mouth, Layla gasped.

“Yes!” she blurted out, unable to contain her excitement. “That would look so good on her, Mama!”

Mariam’s sharp eyes flicked to her daughter, instantly unimpressed. “Layla,” she said in a warning tone, “stop pushing her. This is her decision.”

Layla pouted slightly but took a small step back, raising her hands in surrender. “I know, I know—I’m just saying, it would really suit her!”

Sana, still staring at her reflection, heard the pure excitement in Layla’s voice. It was different from before. This wasn’t just teasing—Layla wanted this. Layla approved of this.

Something in Sana’s chest twisted.

She had already gone too far. If she backed out now, Layla would never let her hear the end of it. She had to see this through.

Her lips trembled as she spoke. “Yes…”

Mariam turned back to her. “Yes, what, dear?”

Sana inhaled sharply. Her fingers curled beneath the cape, gripping the fabric like a lifeline.

“Yes,” she repeated, stronger this time. “I want the tapered cut.”

Mariam’s brows knitted together slightly. “Do you even know what that looks like?”

Sana hesitated. No. She had no idea.

But before she could answer, Layla moved closer again, standing right beside the chair. From the mirror, Sana saw her tilt her head ever so slightly—just enough to give her a subtle nod.

Sana swallowed.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice quiet. “But… if it’s shorter, then… I want it.”

Layla beamed.

Mariam, still watching carefully, gave a slow nod. “Alright then,” she said, her voice lined with the slightest trace of doubt. “A tapered cut it is.”

She reached for her scissors and comb, her movements smooth and practiced. “Do you want the top left straight or curled?”

Sana barely had a moment to process the question when she saw it—Layla’s reflection in the mirror, eyes locked onto hers. It was just a second, just the smallest flicker of control, but it was there.

Layla gave her a slight nod again.

Sana turned back to the mirror, her heart pounding. “Curly,” she whispered.

Mariam blinked, surprised. “Curly?”

Sana nodded, this time without hesitation. “Yes.”

A beat of silence passed. Then Mariam exhaled and gave a small shrug. “Alright,” she said. “If that’s what you want.”

Behind the chair, Layla’s smile widened.

This was really happening.

And Sana had just sealed her fate.

The heavy silence in the room was broken only by the soft snip of Mariam’s scissors as she tested the sharpness against her fingers.

Sana sat stiffly in the chair, the black cape tightly wrapped around her neck, trapping her arms beneath it like a prisoner awaiting her sentence. The weight of her still-damp hair clung to her back, the ends curling slightly as they rested over the chair’s seat.

Mariam combed through the long, dark strands with practiced ease, her fingers gliding from root to tip as if measuring the journey from knee-length to nothing. She sighed softly. “Sana, you do realize how short this is going to be, right?”

Sana’s fingers twitched beneath the cape. She knew.

Layla, standing just to the side with her arms crossed and an eager grin on her lips, giggled. “She knows, Mama. And she wants it. Right, Little Servant?”

Sana swallowed hard. The nickname made her cheeks burn. She nodded.

Mariam exhaled through her nose, still hesitant. “Alright then. No turning back.”

With that, she reached for the scissors.

Sana’s stomach twisted as she saw the blades glint under the salon light. The sharp, cold metal promised something irreversible. She braced herself, her hands curling into fists beneath the cape.

Then Mariam moved swiftly.

The first cut wasn’t slow or hesitant—it was a decisive schhhhnkkk!

A gasp slipped past Sana’s lips as the weight of years fell away in an instant.

Layla let out a delighted squeal. “Oh, wow! Look at that!”

Mariam held up the severed length of hair—thick, dark, still dripping from the wash. It was massive. A rope of silk that had once cascaded past Sana’s knees, now reduced to something lifeless in Mariam’s hands.

Sana’s chest tightened. It’s gone. It’s really gone.

But Mariam wasn’t stopping.

The scissors returned, slicing through more and more, reducing the remaining length at a rapid pace. More heavy strands tumbled down the cape, sliding to the floor in dark, coiled waves.

Sana clenched her teeth. Each snip sent a shiver down her spine. The cool air started to reach her nape, creeping up further with every pass of the blades.

“You’re really doing it,” Layla teased, leaning in close, her fingers ghosting over Sana’s bare shoulder. “No more long, flowing hair for my little servant. Just a nice, short cut—perfect for someone like you.”

Sana bit her lip, her eyes stinging, but she didn’t reply.

Mariam, oblivious to Layla’s words, was focused entirely on her work. Soon, the last of the long strands had fallen, leaving Sana with an uneven, shoulder-length mess.

Mariam combed through the remains, assessing her work. “Now, let’s even it out before we go shorter.”

She reached for the clippers.

The moment Sana saw them, her breath hitched.

Layla beamed. “Ooooh, now it’s getting good!”

Mariam flicked the switch, and the machine came to life with a deep buzzzzzz.

Sana’s heart pounded. The sound was terrifying.

Layla placed a firm hand on her shoulder. “Stay still, Little Servant. You don’t want it to get messy, do you?”

Sana couldn’t move. She couldn’t even breathe.

Then she felt it.

The cold steel pressed against the nape of her neck. A second later, Mariam tilted her head forward with a gentle but firm push. “Chin down, sweetie.”

Sana obeyed instantly.

And then—

Bzzzzzzzz—the clippers glided upward, shearing away everything in their path.

A deep, shuddering breath escaped Sana’s lips as she felt the vibrations against her scalp. The hair that had once taken years to grow was being wiped away in mere seconds.

Layla giggled. “That’s more like it!”

Mariam worked methodically, moving the clippers higher and higher, each pass making the back of Sana’s head feel lighter, barer, more exposed. She tilted Sana’s head from side to side, ensuring every last strand was reduced to a neat, even fade.

Sana squeezed her eyes shut. The cool air brushed against her freshly shaved nape, the sensation completely foreign, completely inescapable.

When Mariam finally shut off the clippers, the silence rang loud in Sana’s ears.

She slowly lifted her chin, dreading what she would see in the mirror.

Her long hair was gone.

In its place was something sharp, modern—short at the sides and back, gradually blending into slightly longer strands at the top. But the top wouldn’t stay straight for long.

Mariam wiped her hands on a towel. “Alright, time for the perm.”

Layla clapped her hands together. “Yes! This is gonna be adorable!”

Sana could only stare at her reflection in shock. Adorable wasn’t the word she would’ve chosen.

But there was no escaping it now.

Mariam reached for the smallest perm rods—tight, tiny rollers meant to create defined, springy curls. “Since you asked for curls, we’ll be using these. They’ll give you a nice, tight look.”

Layla practically purred in approval. “Tight sounds perfect for her, doesn’t it, Mama?”

Mariam, busy sectioning Sana’s remaining hair, didn’t catch the tone behind Layla’s words. “It’ll definitely be a big change,” she agreed.

Sana sat frozen as Mariam began rolling the damp strands onto the tiny rods, securing them tightly against her scalp. Each twist and snap felt like another nail sealing her fate.

By the time her entire top section was covered in tightly wound rods, her scalp felt stretched and tense. Mariam applied the perm solution, and the strong, chemical scent filled the air.

Layla leaned down next to Sana’s ear. “Smell that? That’s the scent of the new you.”

Sana swallowed hard.

There was no going back now.

The steady hum of the hooded dryer filled the salon, a constant, low vibration that buzzed in Sana’s ears. She sat stiffly beneath it, her scalp still tingling from the perm solution. The smell lingered, sharp and chemical, a reminder of how much had changed in just an hour.

Mariam wiped her hands with a towel and turned to the girls. “Alright, the dryer will take some time. I’ll be back once it’s done. Layla, keep an eye on her, okay?”

Layla, who had been sitting on the counter, swinging her legs playfully, beamed. “Of course, Mama!“

Satisfied, Mariam stepped out, closing the salon door behind her.

The moment the latch clicked shut, Layla’s sweet smile twisted into something else entirely.

She slid off the counter and took slow, deliberate steps toward Sana.

“Oh, Little Servant…” she cooed, her voice dripping with amusement. “Just look at you.“

Sana’s hands clenched beneath the heavy black cape, her shoulders rigid. She refused to meet Layla’s eyes.

But that didn’t stop Layla.

She crouched down beside the salon chair, her fingers trailing up the armrest before tapping lightly against the cape’s surface. “You used to have such long, beautiful hair… What a shame, huh?*”

Sana squeezed her eyes shut.

Layla leaned in, her breath warm against Sana’s cheek. “And now, you’re sitting here, trapped under this dryer, smelling like chemicals, looking like—” Layla pulled back slightly, studying Sana’s face before finishing with a cruel smirk, “—like a cute little boy.“

Sana flinched.

Layla giggled. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. It’s not that bad, is it?” She reached up and lightly flicked one of the tiny perm rods secured to Sana’s scalp. “Boing! Hehehe. Imagine how fun it’ll be when they’re all curly and tight~“

Sana turned her head away, blinking hard to keep the tears from spilling.

Layla, clearly enjoying herself, traced a lazy finger along the tight edge of Sana’s fresh taper cut. “Mmm… it’s so soft. So nice and short… You should thank me, you know.“

Sana swallowed the lump in her throat.

Layla tilted her head. “No? Nothing? Hmm.” She straightened up, tapping a finger against her lips in mock thought. Then her eyes gleamed. “You know what I really want to see?“

Sana didn’t answer.

Layla’s fingers hooked onto the thick, black fabric of the hijab that lay in Sana’s lap. “I want to see my little servant walk into school tomorrow without this. No more hiding.“

Sana’s entire body went cold.

Before she could protest, the timer on the dryer beeped.

Layla immediately straightened, her innocent, bubbly expression snapping back into place just as Mariam reentered the salon. “Oh, Mama! Perfect timing!“

Sana sat frozen, her pulse hammering.

Mariam smiled. “Alright, let’s get these out.”

She lowered the dryer hood, and cool air rushed against Sana’s damp scalp. The perm rods came out one by one, releasing tight, springy curls. Mariam worked quickly, her fingers fluffing and shaping the hair, applying setting lotion to keep the curls bouncy.

Finally, she turned the chair so Sana could face the mirror.

Sana barely recognized herself.

Her once knee-length hair was gone. In its place was an extremely short taper cut—buzzed at the back and sides, the top curled into tight, coiled ringlets. The curls clung close to her head, leaving her looking more exposed than she had ever felt in her life.

Mariam smiled warmly. “It suits you! It brings out your features.”

Sana could barely hear her.

She forced herself to nod, mumbling, “Thank you, Auntie.”

Her fingers fumbled to pull her hijab back over her head, hiding the damage as fast as she could.

Mariam patted her shoulder. “Come back if you need any touch-ups!”

Sana forced a polite smile, mumbled another thank you, and practically fled the house.

Layla followed her to the door, grinning ear to ear. “See you tomorrow, Little Servant.“

Sana didn’t respond.

“No More Hiding”

The next morning, Sana arrived at school as usual, her hijab neatly in place, covering the shameful evidence of yesterday’s ordeal.

But Layla was already waiting.

As soon as she spotted Sana, she crossed her arms and smirked. “Take it off.“

Sana froze. “W-what?”

Layla’s eyes darkened. “I said, take. It. Off.“

Sana swallowed hard. There were people around. Other students were walking past, chatting, laughing, oblivious to the tension in the air.

She shook her head. “Layla, please—”

Layla stepped closer, her voice lowering. “Did you forget what I told you yesterday?“

Sana’s hands trembled at her sides.

“I want everyone to see my servant’s new look.“

Sana clenched her jaw. “Layla…“

Layla’s expression remained playful, but her voice sharpened. “Now.“

Sana’s breath hitched.

She could feel the weight of Layla’s authority pressing down on her. The memory of yesterday—of the cape tightening around her throat, of the clippers stripping away everything she had, of Layla’s teasing voice in her ear—it all came rushing back.

Her fingers moved on their own.

Slowly, hesitantly, she reached up and pulled the hijab away.

Gasps rippled through the students nearby.

Sana felt their stares burning into her skin.

Layla beamed. “Now that’s better.“

Sana stood there, utterly humiliated, as Layla gently patted her freshly permed curls. “Awww, look at my little servant. Doesn’t she look adorable, everyone?“

The whispers and giggles around them grew louder.

Sana bit her lip, fighting the sting in her eyes.

She had never felt smaller in her life.

And Layla?

Layla laughed, looping an arm around Sana’s shoulder, leading her inside like a prize on display. “Let’s have a great day, Little Servant~“

Sana could do nothing but follow.

Tears threatened to spill, but she held them back.

Because she knew—

Today was only the beginning.

Sana sat at her desk, barely listening as the teacher explained an equation on the board. The day had been nothing short of a nightmare. From the moment she stepped into the school without her hijab—forced by Layla to reveal her humiliating new haircut—she had endured an endless stream of whispers, giggles, and cruel comments.

The boys smirked, the girls whispered behind their hands, and some even pointed as she walked past. Layla, of course, had enjoyed every second of it. She had paraded Sana through the halls, smirking as she made sure everyone got a good look at her *servant’s* new look.

Then, the knock came.

The classroom door creaked open, and a staff member entered.

“Sana,” she called out, her voice firm. “The principal wants to see you. Now.”

Sana’s stomach dropped.

The class erupted into murmurs, and all eyes turned to her.

She hesitated before rising from her seat, heart pounding in her chest. This couldn’t be good.

The walk to the principal’s office felt like a death march.

By the time she reached the door, her hands were clammy, her breathing uneven.

The staff member pushed the door open and gestured for her to step inside.

Principal Rashida sat behind her desk, her fingers laced together. Her expression was unreadable.

“Sana,” she said, gesturing for her to sit.

Sana lowered herself into the chair, her hands gripping the hem of her skirt.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

Sana shook her head, though she had a sinking feeling she did.

The principal sighed and adjusted her glasses. “Your haircut is in direct violation of school regulations. We do not allow students to have extreme hairstyles, and this—” she gestured toward Sana’s head “—is unacceptable.”

Sana’s fingers clenched tighter. “But… it’s just hair.”

The principal’s gaze hardened. “Rules are rules. Layla’s haircut was only permitted because her mother informed us that it was an accident—something beyond her control. But your haircut was done by choice, and that is a different matter.”

Sana felt her breath hitch. “T-that’s not fair. Layla—”

“This is not up for debate,” the principal interrupted. “You made a choice, and now you will face the consequences.”

Sana swallowed, her throat dry. “What… what consequences?”

The principal’s voice was firm, unwavering.

“You will have your head shaved completely in front of the entire school.”

Sana’s world tilted.

Her breath came in short, panicked gasps. “No… please—”

The principal didn’t waver. “This will serve as a lesson to all students. We have already contacted Mariam, your friend Layla’s mother, to carry out the punishment. She will be here shortly.”

Sana’s blood ran cold.

Mariam.

She had been the only one who had saved her last time, the only reason she had escaped with just a trim.

But now, she was the one who would take everything from her.

Sana sat frozen, unable to protest, unable to speak.

She was trapped.

By the time school ended, the entire student body had gathered in the courtyard.

A single chair was placed at the center, next to a small table holding clippers, shaving cream, and a razor.

Sana stood at the edge of the crowd, her legs trembling.

Mariam had already arrived, standing by the chair with a neutral expression.

“Sana,” the principal called, her voice carrying over the murmuring students. “Come forward.”

The crowd parted as Sana walked to the stage. Her body felt disconnected, as if she were floating outside herself.

Layla stood at the front of the crowd, arms crossed, eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Sana climbed onto the stage, her legs weak beneath her.

Mariam gestured to the chair. “Sit.”

Sana hesitated.

The principal raised an eyebrow. “Are you refusing?”

A chill ran down Sana’s spine. She slowly lowered herself into the chair.

The whispers in the crowd grew louder.

Mariam picked up the black cape and swung it around Sana, fastening it securely at the back. Her hands were firm, professional, but there was something else—something almost apologetic—in her touch.

But it didn’t matter.

Sana was beyond saving now.

The clippers were placed in Mariam’s hand.

The principal nodded. “Begin.”

*Szzzzzzzzzt.*

The clippers roared to life, sending vibrations up Sana’s spine.

Mariam placed a steady hand on Sana’s head, tilting it forward.

The first pass began at the crown.

Cold metal touched her scalp.

Then—

*Bzzzzzzzzzt.*

A thick strip of her remaining hair was erased, leaving nothing but bare skin in its wake.

The crowd gasped.

More hair tumbled down, landing in her lap, on the floor, sliding down her shoulders.

Mariam worked efficiently, the clippers gliding over Sana’s head without hesitation.

*Szzzzzzzt.* Another strip gone.

*Szzzzzzzt.* The sides were cleared away.

Sana’s scalp was now visible, smooth, bare.

She gripped the arms of the chair, her knuckles turning white.

Tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

Layla stood watching, her lips curled into a slow smile.

Soon, all of Sana’s hair was gone, reduced to mere dust on the floor.

But it wasn’t over.

Mariam set the clippers down and reached for the shaving cream.

The crowd murmured in confusion.

Sana’s heart pounded as Mariam spread the cool foam across her scalp.

Then came the razor.

The first stroke scraped against her skin, removing even the smallest traces of hair.

Mariam worked methodically, dragging the blade over Sana’s head, rinsing it, then continuing.

Sana felt utterly exposed, her scalp tingling under the razor’s edge.

The crowd fell into stunned silence, watching every motion with wide eyes.

Finally, Mariam wiped away the remaining foam, revealing Sana’s fully shaven head.

Completely bald.

No trace of hair left.

Sana lifted a trembling hand, running it over her smooth scalp.

The laughter started.

It rippled through the crowd, cruel and unforgiving.

Layla stepped forward, her voice dripping with satisfaction.

“Well, well, Little Servant,” she murmured, just loud enough for Sana to hear. “Now *that* suits you.”

Sana’s breath hitched.

The humiliation was suffocating.

Mariam removed the cape, letting the last strands of hair fall to the ground.

Sana stood shakily.

She wanted to run.

To disappear.

The principal addressed the crowd. “Let this be a lesson to all. Any girl who dares break school rules like this will face the same punishment.”

The students clapped. Some cheered. Others simply gawked.

Sana felt like the earth had swallowed her whole.

She turned and walked off the stage, each step heavier than the last.

Layla’s voice followed her, low and taunting.

“See you tomorrow, Little Servant.”

Sana bit her lip, forcing back the sob threatening to escape.

Sana sat at her desk, barely listening as the teacher explained an equation on the board. The day had been nothing short of a nightmare. From the moment she stepped into the school without her hijab—forced by Layla to reveal her humiliating new haircut—she had endured an endless stream of whispers, giggles, and cruel comments.

The boys smirked, the girls whispered behind their hands, and some even pointed as she walked past. Layla, of course, had enjoyed every second of it. She had paraded Sana through the halls, smirking as she made sure everyone got a good look at her *servant’s* new look.

Then, the knock came.

The classroom door creaked open, and a staff member entered.

“Sana,” she called out, her voice firm. “The principal wants to see you. Now.”

Sana’s stomach dropped.

The class erupted into murmurs, and all eyes turned to her.

She hesitated before rising from her seat, heart pounding in her chest. This couldn’t be good.

The walk to the principal’s office felt like a death march.

By the time she reached the door, her hands were clammy, her breathing uneven.

The staff member pushed the door open and gestured for her to step inside.

Principal Rashida sat behind her desk, her fingers laced together. Her expression was unreadable.

“Sana,” she said, gesturing for her to sit.

Sana lowered herself into the chair, her hands gripping the hem of her skirt.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

Sana shook her head, though she had a sinking feeling she did.

The principal sighed and adjusted her glasses. “Your haircut is in direct violation of school regulations. We do not allow students to have extreme hairstyles, and this—” she gestured toward Sana’s head “—is unacceptable.”

Sana’s fingers clenched tighter. “But… it’s just hair.”

The principal’s gaze hardened. “Rules are rules. Layla’s haircut was only permitted because her mother informed us that it was an accident—something beyond her control. But your haircut was done by choice, and that is a different matter.”

Sana felt her breath hitch. “T-that’s not fair. Layla—”

“This is not up for debate,” the principal interrupted. “You made a choice, and now you will face the consequences.”

Sana swallowed, her throat dry. “What… what consequences?”

The principal’s voice was firm, unwavering.

“You will have your head shaved completely in front of the entire school.”

Sana’s world tilted.

Her breath came in short, panicked gasps. “No… please—”

The principal didn’t waver. “This will serve as a lesson to all students. We have already contacted Mariam, your friend Layla’s mother, to carry out the punishment. She will be here shortly.”

Sana’s blood ran cold.

Mariam.

She had been the only one who had saved her last time, the only reason she had escaped with just a trim.

But now, she was the one who would take everything from her.

Sana sat frozen, unable to protest, unable to speak.

She was trapped.

By the time school ended, the entire student body had gathered in the courtyard.

A single chair was placed at the center, next to a small table holding clippers, shaving cream, and a razor.

Sana stood at the edge of the crowd, her legs trembling.

Mariam had already arrived, standing by the chair with a neutral expression.

“Sana,” the principal called, her voice carrying over the murmuring students. “Come forward.”

The crowd parted as Sana walked to the stage. Her body felt disconnected, as if she were floating outside herself.

Layla stood at the front of the crowd, arms crossed, eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Sana climbed onto the stage, her legs weak beneath her.

Mariam gestured to the chair. “Sit.”

Sana hesitated.

The principal raised an eyebrow. “Are you refusing?”

A chill ran down Sana’s spine. She slowly lowered herself into the chair.

The whispers in the crowd grew louder.

Mariam picked up the black cape and swung it around Sana, fastening it securely at the back. Her hands were firm, professional, but there was something else—something almost apologetic—in her touch.

But it didn’t matter.

Sana was beyond saving now.

The clippers were placed in Mariam’s hand.

The principal nodded. “Begin.”

*Szzzzzzzzzt.*

The clippers roared to life, sending vibrations up Sana’s spine.

Mariam placed a steady hand on Sana’s head, tilting it forward.

The first pass began at the crown.

Cold metal touched her scalp.

Then—

*Bzzzzzzzzzt.*

A thick strip of her remaining hair was erased, leaving nothing but bare skin in its wake.

The crowd gasped.

More hair tumbled down, landing in her lap, on the floor, sliding down her shoulders.

Mariam worked efficiently, the clippers gliding over Sana’s head without hesitation.

*Szzzzzzzt.* Another strip gone.

*Szzzzzzzt.* The sides were cleared away.

Sana’s scalp was now visible, smooth, bare.

She gripped the arms of the chair, her knuckles turning white.

Tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

Layla stood watching, her lips curled into a slow smile.

Soon, all of Sana’s hair was gone, reduced to mere dust on the floor.

But it wasn’t over.

Mariam set the clippers down and reached for the shaving cream.

The crowd murmured in confusion.

Sana’s heart pounded as Mariam spread the cool foam across her scalp.

Then came the razor.

The first stroke scraped against her skin, removing even the smallest traces of hair.

Mariam worked methodically, dragging the blade over Sana’s head, rinsing it, then continuing.

Sana felt utterly exposed, her scalp tingling under the razor’s edge.

The crowd fell into stunned silence, watching every motion with wide eyes.

Finally, Mariam wiped away the remaining foam, revealing Sana’s fully shaven head.

Completely bald.

No trace of hair left.

Sana lifted a trembling hand, running it over her smooth scalp.

The laughter started.

It rippled through the crowd, cruel and unforgiving.

Layla stepped forward, her voice dripping with satisfaction.

“Well, well, Little Servant,” she murmured, just loud enough for Sana to hear. “Now *that* suits you.”

Sana’s breath hitched.

The humiliation was suffocating.

Mariam removed the cape, letting the last strands of hair fall to the ground.

Sana stood shakily.

She wanted to run.

To disappear.

The principal addressed the crowd. “Let this be a lesson to all. Any girl who dares break school rules like this will face the same punishment.”

The students clapped. Some cheered. Others simply gawked.

Sana felt like the earth had swallowed her whole.

She turned and walked off the stage, each step heavier than the last.

Layla’s voice followed her, low and taunting.

“See you tomorrow, Little Servant.”

Sana bit her lip, forcing back the sob threatening to escape.