The moment you stepped into your shared apartment, Sevika's frustrated voice echoed from the bathroom.

“Damn it—! Stupid—ugh!”

Curious (and slightly concerned), you made your way over, knocking lightly before pushing the door open. Sevika turned, her hair—usually smooth and well-kept—now an absolute mess of uneven choppy strands and tangled tufts. Scissors lay discarded on the sink.

She met your gaze, her expression a mix of irritation and uncertainty. Then, completely deadpan, she asked, “Rhetorically speaking.. would you still love me if I went bald?”

You blinked. Once. Twice. Then bit back a laugh.

“Sevika.. what did you do?”

“I tried to cut it myself.” She exhaled sharply, gesturing at the disaster on her head. “Turns out, I suck at it.”

You grinned, stepping closer. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“Shut up and help me.”

You chuckled, picking up the scissors. “Sit. I’ll fix it.”

She obeyed, grumbling as you carefully evened out her hair. As you worked, she muttered, “So.. would you?”

You smiled, fingers brushing against her skin. “Love you if you went bald?”

She huffed. “Yeah.”

You kissed the top of her head. “Of course, you idiot.”

Sevika went quiet, but the tips of her ears turned red.