My Fated Mate Can Have Her-Chapter 182: A New Face

Violet

The mirror on the bathing room wall was small, just a little bit larger than my head, but it was slightly big enough. I stared at my reflection, taking in the dark hair that fell past my shoulders.

I had never even thought I would make such a decision...

My hand trembled slightly as I gathered a section of hair and held the blade to it.

’Just do it. Don’t think. Just do it.’

The first cut was harder than I expected, but when the hair eventually came free, I stared at the dark strands in my hand, my chest tight.

Then I placed it on the shirt I had spread out within the sink and kept going.

The strands fell away, and I gently placed them in front of me batch by batch.

When I finally stopped, my head felt strangely light.

I looked in the mirror and the woman staring back at me looked a little different.

My hair now fell just below my ears in uneven, choppy layers. Some sections were shorter than others. The edges were rough and a bit jagged.

It looked terrible if I was being honest.

But it also looked different.

’At least I won’t be recognised.’

I tried to comfort myself with that thought, but a small voice in the back of my mind whispered that maybe I should have just waited. Let Rowan get the dye. Not hacked at my hair for it to have presented such a shoddy result.

It was too late now.

I sensed Rowan return and I stepped out to meet him in the entry room.

"It took some searching but I finally found—"

He went still.

His eyes widened as they travelled over my face, taking in the jagged, uneven mess I had made of my hair. For a long moment, he just stared, his expression caught somewhere between shock and something else I couldn’t identify.

My stomach twisted with sudden uncertainty.

Did it look that terrible?

"Do I look bad?" I asked, hating how small my voice sounded.

"What did you... do?" His voice was strained.

"I cut it as you can see," I clipped, a sudden edge of annoyance in my voice as I gripped the hilt of the knife with both hands tight.

I was already regretting my decision.

Why was he even just standing there?

I turned away, preparing to go back to the bathing room to pack up what I had cut.

"Wait. Wait."

I angled my body to slightly face him.

"Sorry—I—" He sighed, his eyes flitting to the blade and back to my hair. "Your hair, where did—did you cut it directly on the floor?"

The strange question confused me. "No. I... I spread out a shirt to catch it. I wanted to... keep it." I paused, realising how foolish that sounded. I looked away. "I don’t know. I just didn’t want to leave it behind—"

"Good." He visibly relaxed and I turned to him. "That’s good. Hair can be used for tracking too if one knows what they’re doing."

I stared at him stunned.

He continued, his shoulders sagging with relief. "If you had left it scattered on the floor, someone could have used it to follow us."

"Oh..."

I hadn’t even thought of that.

I had just wanted to keep my hair.

But I nodded like that had been my intention all along.

Rowan stepped closer, his eyes still fixed on my uneven layers.

"You didn’t have to do this," he said quietly, his voice softer now. He looked at me, a sad look in his eyes. "We could have just used the dye."

"I know." I reached up to touch the choppy ends, feeling how strange and foreign they were against my fingers. "But I thought it would help at least... In case the colour alone wasn’t enough."

He was quiet for a moment.

Then he sighed.

"Come. Let me fix it for you."

I blinked. "What?"

"Your hair." He gestured vaguely at my head and took the knife from my grasp. "It’s uneven. If you go out like that, you’ll draw attention for different reasons. Let me tidy it up."

His fingers closed around the hilt, brushing against mine.

And his hand lingered there for just a moment longer than necessary, his fingers warm where they rested against my knuckles.

I jolted, my grip loosening instinctively.

He took the knife smoothly, and his expression was the same, as if nothing had happened at all.

My hand tingled where his skin had touched mine, and I curled my fingers into my palm, trying to shake the strange sensation.

He started walking towards the bathing room. "Come."

I followed him, a bit nervous. Then I came to my senses almost immediately as I joined him there.

"You know how to cut hair?" I asked.

A faint smile crossed his face.

"I used to help my mother with hers," he said, eyeing my hair bundles in the sink. "She always liked hers short."

He pointed at the large tub. "It will be best if we did this here. That way we could wash the rest down the drain." He looked up at me. "I would also advise dusting whatever lingering hair off your clothes in here too when I am done."

I understood his reasoning but it was still strange. I joined him in the tub and the space suddenly felt so small.

Just as my pulse quickened, he quickly left to get a piece of clothing and wrapped it around my shoulders.

He smiled at me. "There. At least the bulk of it will fall here."

"Oh... alright."

He moved behind me, and I heard him shift, adjusting his stance in the limited space.

The tub was wide, but no longer wide enough at this point.

His chest nearly brushed my back, and I could feel the warmth radiating from him even through the fabric draped over my shoulders.

I squeezed my eyes shut and held myself very still.

"Tilt your head down slightly."