Hair holds trauma.

That simple quote was something you always had in your mind. After every traumatic experience, you cut your hair and this time, it was really bad.

You got badly injured, literally staring death in the eyes. It sent you into a few days of coma and gave you the inability to walk for a couple of weeks. When you were finally alone in your room, you grabbed scissors and immediately cut your hair. Strands of hair fell to the ground as you stared into the mirror.

Phillip knew about all this. He knew about your hair cutting. He knew that's what you're currently doing.

"Cutting your hair again, love?" he asked, standing in the doorway with his arms folded on his chest.

"Hmm.. It looks good on you. May i help, though?" he asked as he walked to you, brushing your hair.