Bald Before the Altar

Summary

The bald head reflected in the mirror completely sent me over the edge. This was the sight that greeted me the morning before my wedding, as I woke from a deep sleep.

The culprit, Chelsea, was primping her eye-catching curly hair, sticking out her tongue and saying casually, "Just a slip of the hand, no hard feelings, right, Lena?"

She even exaggeratedly covered her mouth. "Oh no, poor Lena! The bride’s going to be bald!"

But Roman acted as if nothing had happened, reaching out to playfully tap her nose, laughing it off. "Just wear a wig, problem solved."