Mondays were usually messy at Loveth's salon. Glue emergencies. Broken closures. Clients with too many opinions and no appointment. But today felt… too quiet.
She was sipping chilled malt and scrolling through her feed when the doorbell jingled.
In walked a man. Simple black tee. Clean beard. Low voice. Dangerous cologne.
"I booked a session for my sister. Name's Ethan," he said, eyes steady, voice calm.
Loveth raised a brow. Men rarely came in—unless they were broke, bold, or babysitting. Ethan didn't look like any of those. He looked like he paid attention… and didn't talk too much.
"Take a seat," she said, pointing to the sleek black sofa.
He nodded, sat.
Not even two minutes passed before the air shifted again.
*Click. Click. Click.*
Miracle walked in like a hurricane in heels. Blonde lace, full lips, outfit screaming, *I own the room.* And maybe… she did.
"Loveth! You won't believe the nonsense my stupid ex just pulled!" she yelled, plopping down in the chair like it owed her rent.
Loveth glanced at Ethan.
Ethan glanced at the floor.
But his jaw tightened—barely. She caught it.
Miracle kept ranting.
Loveth kept nodding.
Ethan kept silent.
But everything inside Loveth knew:
This appointment just got complicated.
And her rule—*no entanglements in the salon*—was about to be tested.