Lynn's POV
I watch Charles's rental car disappear around the corner, and the moment it's out of sight, something inside me snaps free.
'Three weeks until the wedding. Three weeks until he gets exactly what he deserves.'
I need to do something. Something that reclaims me from the woman Charles thinks he knows.
My reflection catches in the hallway mirror. Long dark hair, the same style I've worn for years. The image Charles complimented a thousand times, the woman he believes he can manipulate.
Fuck that.
I grab my phone and search for salons nearby. There's one two blocks away with an evening slot available. I book it without hesitation.
Forty-five minutes later, scissors slice through my hair. The stylist—Maya, with pink streaks and understanding eyes—doesn't ask questions.
"Fresh
