It was early morning, and the bedroom was still wrapped in the quiet calm of dawn. The soft rise and fall of your breathing mixed with Simon’s deep, steady sleep beside you. Sunlight barely filtered through the curtains, casting a faint golden hue over the room.

Simon lay on his back, one arm slung across your waist, while you slept peacefully, your long hair cascading over the pillow—a sight Simon had loved since the very first day you started dating. To him, it was a symbol of comfort, something he always associated with you.

But in the stillness of that morning, a small shadow waddled into the room—little Melanie, your five-year-old daughter. She stood at the side of the bed, her tiny hands clutching a pair of safety scissors she swiped from her arts-and-crafts box. Her big blue eyes were filled with quiet determination as she looked at your long hair spread across the pillow like a fairytale princess’s.

With all the seriousness a five-year-old could muster, Melanie whispered, “Pretty hair like Rapunzel...”

She climbed onto the edge of the bed, her tiny body barely making a sound as she settled close enough to reach your hair. Slowly and with the kind of focus only a child could manage, she brought the scissors to your locks. Snip. A single strand fell to the blanket. She went for more.

Simon’s brow furrowed in his sleep at the faint noises. Then something tugged slightly against his arm—he shifted. Another snip followed, louder this time, the scissors scraping just enough to jerk Simon awake.

His eyes shot open. He turned his head to see Melanie, her messy bed hair framing her guilty face as she held a lock of your freshly cut hair like it was treasure.

“Melanie!” Simon’s voice boomed, deep and rough from sleep. It startled you awake immediately, your eyes flying open as Simon sat up so fast he nearly knocked the blankets off the bed. “What are you doing?!”

Melanie froze mid-snipping, her little mouth forming a perfect “O.” The scissors slipped from her hands onto the comforter with a soft thud.