Fin

"What are you doing?" he asked, poking his head into the bathroom.

"Dying my hair," she replied, reading the instructions on the peroxide bottle. She never like the dull brown hair color her father passed on to her. She wanted to dye the ends of it blonde, make it like an ombre.

"Why?" he chuckled, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. "I love your hair color."

"I want to try something new."

He watched the entire time, cringing and commenting about how he didn't like it. She wanted him to leave then, if he hated it so much. It was her hair, she could do whatever she wanted with it. His opinion didn't matter.

When it was ready, after a few hours, she washed her hair and stared at her attempt. It was good. She liked it.

He walked back in and said,

"Well, you're beautiful no matter what."