Nika
“So, are we starting?”
“Let’s do it!” I try to sound confident as I reply to the hairdresser who’s about to chop off my long, blonde hair.
I was convinced I was doing the right thing… Sure I could go through with it… Absolutely sure… Until I saw her aiming those long, professional scissors at me, which suddenly looked like monstrous killers.
“Wait!” I blurt out, spinning around to face her. “I’ve changed my mind. Just the ends! Yeah…” I exhale, trying to calm my racing heart. “Just the ends, nothing more.”
“Are you sure? A bob would look great on you. I could tell right away with my professional eye,” the stylist says calmly, her bright purple ponytail and pink bangs somehow reassuring as she tries to convince me that experimenting with my look is normal and even beneficial.
I agree with her, of course, but I’m just not ready for it yet.
“I trust you, but I guess today’s not my day,” I reply with a nervous smile, feeling embarrassed about my cowardice.
The hairdresser shrugs, then does exactly what I asked. Judging by her reaction, which shows not a hint of annoyance, I realize I’m far from the first person to change their mind at the last second. So, she quickly finishes up and lets me go, making me promise that when I’m finally ready for a big change, I’ll come back to her.
Stepping out of the salon, I feel kind of strange.
Maybe I’m just not the typical girl going through a breakup. Online, everyone says cutting your hair is the best way to let go of the past and feel lighter, but clearly, that’s not for me.
In short, I failed to start a new chapter of my life with a new hairstyle.
I’m saved from completely beating myself up by my phone ringing. It’s my best friend, Solomiya, who couldn’t hold off any longer.
“I owe you a cake,” I say to her right away instead of a hello.
“You didn’t cut it? Yay! I told you that you wouldn’t get rid of something so beautiful,” Solya practically shouts, clearly pleased.
The thing is, we made a bet a few days ago. I told her I’d booked an appointment at the salon to drastically change my hairstyle, and Solya insisted I was making a mistake and would back out in the end.
I thought I could do it right up until the last moment. I even walked into the salon with a smile and a pleasant thrill at the thought of the change ahead. But turns out, I’m not as decisive as I thought.
I comfort myself with the idea that keeping my long hair is its own kind of new beginning, especially since my ex always made me feel self-conscious about it. He was genuinely annoyed that my hair was everywhere in the apartment, and more than once, he asked me to cut it. I was almost ready to give in, but then he suggested we split up, so the need disappeared on its own.
“You there?” My friend’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts.
I’ve been so scatterbrained lately.
“Yeah, I’m here. Just thinking… Maybe I should go back and do it after all? I feel like such a wimp for deciding something and not following through. Or… Hey, what if I dye it? Do you think black would suit me? It’d match my mood perfectly.”
“Have you completely lost it?” my friend exclaims, shocked. “Don’t even think about it! Girls spend a fortune and go to the salon practically every week to get a pure blonde like yours. And you’ve got it naturally. That’s it! You’re strong, and you’ll figure everything out without falling for this overhyped ‘change your look, start a new life’ nonsense.”
“I hope so,” I reply with a smile, feeling a warmth in my chest from the support of someone close to me.
My mood lifts a little, but only until I step into my new-old home. Exhausted, I slump onto a wobbly chair in the hallway and look at myself in the old mirror hanging right across from me.
Ugh… I don’t like what I see. I used to think of myself as attractive, but now I barely recognize the person staring back at me. Dark circles under my eyes, a dull gaze in my blue eyes… And I’ve lost so much weight that all my clothes literally hang off me. Some people might be thrilled about that, but not me. I’ve always been self-conscious about being too skinny, and now I could pass for a teenager. No wonder a few days ago they didn’t want to sell me wine at the supermarket until I showed my ID.
Speaking of which, that was a funny situation. The cashier lady couldn’t believe I was really twenty-six and kept comparing the real me to the photo on my ID. Now I get why she was so shocked.
But today, I look even worse than usual. And I know exactly why—because this morning, I officially became a free woman. I should probably be used to the idea by now, but that darn divorce certificate in my bag still hits me hard emotionally.
With my husband… Er, ex-husband, we were together for five years, three of them married. By the classic storyline, this is where I’d tell some touching tale about how I’m this amazing woman and he, the jerk, cheated on me… But I’ll disappoint you. It was painfully ordinary. We just fell out of love, that’s all. Or did we ever love each other in the first place?
I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately.
Sasha and I met in college. He was two years ahead of me, studying architecture while I was in design. And no, it wasn’t love at first sight or some passionate spark or any other romantic cliché. We just ended up in the same group at a student party one day, and then, unexpectedly for everyone, we became friends. I’d even say best friends. Considering I don’t let just anyone into my inner circle, that was a surprise even to me. I never thought I’d get along with someone like him, the type I’d avoided since my teenage years.
The thing is, Alex, as everyone called him at school, was a star. The golden boy, the life of the party, and… the rector’s son. A lot of people tried to get close to him, but I wasn’t on the list of his fans and didn’t want the extra attention. Alex didn’t care, though. He started treating me differently right away. He’d sit next to me in the cafeteria, come up to me during breaks with coffee, always start random conversations about nothing, and so on.
At first, I tried to avoid him, but he stubbornly kept breaking into my personal space. Alex knew exactly what he was doing because, within a month, I couldn’t imagine my life without this guy with slightly long, light brown hair. But we weren’t dating. It was more like the kind of relationship a brother and sister might have.
That went on for over two years, but then everything changed. Alex was the friend who helped me with that awful professor in my final year, so I invited him to dinner to thank him. And after that, things just took off. First kiss, first date, first time…
It was like a fairy tale. We dated for three years, and then he proposed. Of course, I said yes and was over the moon with happiness.
The first year of marriage was magical, but after that… Something broke, if you can call it that. We started drifting apart and spending less and less time together. You could call us roommates with benefits. Weird label for a young married couple, right? But you can’t argue with the truth, as they say.
I tried to ignore the problem for a long time. I kept thinking it was just a rough patch in our relationship. But time passed, and the rough patch didn’t end—it only got worse. Then, one day, we finally had an honest conversation, and Sasha suggested we end it. I knew it was coming, but it still hit me so hard that I haven’t recovered yet.
That conversation happened a month and a half ago. We dragged out the inevitable for a while, but eventually, we filed for divorce. There wasn’t much to split since we lived in Sasha’s apartment, which his parents had given him before we even met, and we never got around to having kids, as if we subconsciously knew our relationship had no future. Given all that, the clerk at the registry office promised that within a month, all the formalities would be settled, and we’d officially be strangers to each other.
And now we are.
Though we stopped talking long before getting that piece of paper. Right after filing, I moved into an apartment that belonged to my grandmother. Since then, my “husband” and I have completely stopped being part of each other’s lives.
Was it hard for me?
Oh, yes. Incredibly hard.
No matter what, we were together for a long time, if not as a couple, then as friends. Considering there aren’t many people in my life I truly consider family, losing Alex marked the start of a real depression for me.
I give a bitter smile to my reflection, then suddenly think that you have to find the positive in everything. For example, I don’t have to change my last name. Back then, I didn’t want to, so I could hold on to the thread connecting me to my parents, who passed away when I was fifteen. Now I see how right I was, even though it caused plenty of arguments with Sasha.
So here I am—Veronika Homenko—standing on the threshold of a new chapter in my life. Broken, depressed, with no plan for the future… Not exactly a cheerful picture, but it is what it is.
I comfort myself with the thought that Nietzsche wasn’t wrong when he said, “That which does not kill us makes us stronger.” The philosopher probably understood life a bit better than I do, so I just need to wait until I finally feel this famous personal transformation of his.
And while I wait, ice cream, movies, and romance novels will be my best friends. Oh, and I almost forgot about work.
In short, as my grandma likes to say, we’ll get through it somehow.