My Husband Chose His Ex I Became His Regret novel Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Lila

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The hair salon is located in a part of the city I’ve never been before, the type where you have to schedule an appointment six months out and receive champagne upon arrival. Margot drops me off with the words “Let Isabella do her work.”

Isabella turns out to be a small Italian lady with purple streaks in her black hair. Her hands move like an orchestra conductor.

“Simone sent you,” she tells me as she circles around me, running her fingers through my mousy brown, limp hair. “She said you need a transformation.”

“Um, I suppose,” I reply.

“You suppose?” Isabella spins me around to look into the mirror. “What do you see when you look at yourself?”

I look again. I see the same person I have seen for three years: ordinary, easily forgettable, and safe.

Finally, I say: “I see someone trying not to stand out.”

“Exactly,” she says as she continues running her fingers through my hair, lifting various pieces and looking at me in the mirror. “You have incredible bone structure: high-cheekbones, strong jawline, and strikingly beautiful eyes. However, with this hair,” she pauses to drop the piece of hair she has been holding, “you are being hidden.”

“What do you think I should do?”

“First,” she says while measuring with her fingers, “we will cut your hair. The length is weighing you down, making you appear fatigued. We will cut your hair from twenty-four inches to eighteen and make it short enough to come just below your shoulders. We will layer to provide volume and bounce to your hair that you currently do not have.”

My hand goes instinctively to my hair. I have been growing my hair long since I entered college. Mark loved my hair long because it was feminine.

“And second,” Isabella continues as she looks me in the eye, “we will bleach your hair.”

“What?” I manage to squeak out in a panic.

“Not platinum..The hair color consists of honey blonde hair with caramel lowlights. The hair color will highlight the gold in your eyes, enhance your skin tone, and give the appearance of being luxurious.”

“You are going to love your new hair color.”

After checking my phone, I realize that I received four consecutive texts from Aidan, all at the same time.

Aidan: Hair appointment?

15:22 Tue, May 12

Chapter 18

Me: She wants to make me blonde.

A: Do you want to be blonde?

:

I think about it About Patricia’s homework. What do I want?

“Do you want to be blonde?” Isabella asks, echoing Aidan’s text.

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“I want to be different.” I say slowly. “I want to look in the mirror and not see the woman Mark married. I want to see someone new.”

Isabella smiles. “Then blonde it is.” She calls over her assistant. “We’re doing a full transformation. Call in the colorist.”

I text Aidan that I’m doing it.

A: Proud of you. Send photos after.

I set my phone down. Close my eyes.

I felt the first cut and felt my hair fall to the ground.

At that moment, I knew there was no turning back.

Four hours later, I’m staring at a stranger.

Isabella has spun my chair around. I’m looking in the mirror. And I don’t recognize myself.

My hair, my long, mousy brown hair that I’ve hidden behind for years is gone.

In its place: honey blonde waves that fall just below my shoulders, layered and full of movement. The color is stunning, warm, expensive, natural-looking but enhanced. Golden highlights catch the light. Caramel lowlights add depth.

And my face. Without all that heavy hair weighing it down, my bone structure is visible. My jawline is defined. My eyes, no longer overshadowed are striking. The amber color pops against the blonde. I look…

“You look amazing,” Isabella says softly.

I reach up, touch the shorter length. It feels light. Free. Like I’ve literally cut away the weight of the

years.

“It’s so different,” I breathe.

“Different good or different bad?”

past

three

I keep staring. The woman in the mirror looks confident. Polished. Expensive. Like someone who belongs in boardrooms and galas. Like someone who matters.

“Different good,” I whisper. “Really good.”

Chapter 18

5 youche

Isabella beams. “I knew it. This colour was made for you.” She runs her fingers through the waves, showing me how they fall. “See how it moves? How it catches the light? This is hair that gets noticed”

My phone buzzes with an alarm 4 PM. I’m supposed to meet Dr. Patricia for our second session in an hour

I take a photo. Send it to Aidan.

Three dots immediately. Then nothing for a full minute.

Finally.

A: Lila

Just my name. Nothing else.

Then:

A: You look incredible. Mark Knight is going to lose his fucking mind.

But the last message is what makes my chest tight.

How do YOU feel?

I look at my reflection again. Touch the soft blonde waves. See the woman I could have been all along if I’d been allowed to shine.

I type

L: I feel brand new. For the first time in years, I feel really good.

A: Then that’s all that matters. See you at the office tomorrow, 8 AM. Wear the navy Valentino.

I screenshot our conversation. Save it.

Then I send the photo to Margot.

She responds immediately: STUNNING. Told you. You’re amazing.

A few hours later, I’m back at The Ritz, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, doing what Patricia told me to do for “homework”–which in this case was “5 minutes, just observe; no criticism.”

The reflection of the woman looking back at me is very different than the woman I have known for years. My honey-blonde hair catches the light now, and my amber eyes are actually now distinguishable from the whites of my eyes because of how much more light they reflect than the whites of my eyes.

I look… expensive. Put-together. Confident.

I look like someone who deserves to take up space, so I say that out loud to myself.

My phone rings. Unknown number. I almost don’t answer, but something makes me pick up.

15:22 Tue, May 12

Chapter IS

“Hello?”

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15 your hers

“Lila?” My father’s voice. Cold. Clipped. “We need to talk about this… situation with Storm Industries

Weeks ago, I would have apologized immediately. Would have shrunk. Would have made myself small enough to fit whatever box he needed me in.

But the woman in the mirror, blonde and bold and finally visible, she’s not that person anymore.

“I don’t think we do,” I say calmly. “Is there anything else?”

Silence. Shocked silence.

“Excuse me?”

“You didn’t call to ask about my wellbeing, you never have. .” My voice doesn’t shake. “So no, Dad. We don’t need to talk. I don’t need anything from you.”

“Lila Marie Stark, you will not speak to me…”

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