I woke up feeling lighter. That was the first thing I noticed.
When I reached for my hair, my fingers froze. Large sections were gone. Uneven. Chopped.
At first, I thought I had done something to myself. Sleepwalking. Stress. Anything but the truth.
Then my head began to ache. My body felt heavy. Slow. Drugged.
That’s when my mother-in-law walked in — calm, smiling — and asked if I slept well.
She later admitted everything. The pills. The scissors. The reason.
She said I was “changing” her son. Making him distant. Independent.
When my husband came home and saw my hair, his face went white.
He didn’t shout. He didn’t argue.
He packed our bags.
That night, he chose me.
And she lost him forever.