When she first lost her hair after childbirth, she tried to pretend it didn’t matter.
At twenty-five, she bought scarves in soft colors and practiced smiling in mirrors. She learned how to answer questions casually when people stared too long.
But children notice sadness even when adults hide it carefully.
And her son noticed everything.
He noticed how she touched old photographs from before the hair loss.
How she paused near salon windows.
How she always complimented other women’s hairstyles with a smile that faded too quickly afterward.
One afternoon, when he was still very young, he asked her quietly:
“Would you feel prettier if you had hair again?”
She laughed softly and kissed his forehead.
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