I woke up to find jagged strands of my hair scattered across my pillow — uneven, hacked off like someone had done it in the dark. My hunt for the culprit led me to a battered shoebox filled with pieces of my life, and a devastating secret.

I woke up with something tickling my cheek. Half-asleep, I brushed it away, but it clung to my fingers, soft and brittle. Hair… my hair.

At first, I thought it was just a stray strand, but then I opened my eyes. Locks of hair, uneven and sharp, were scattered like confetti across my pillow. I sat up too fast. It made me dizzy and set my heart thudding. My fingers shook as I ran them over my scalp.

There it was. A jagged edge near the back of my head, like someone had hacked at it with kitchen scissors.

“What the heck?” I whispered, my breath sharp and cold in my chest.

I scrambled out of bed, bracing myself against the nightstand as my legs suddenly turned to lead. Even adrenaline couldn’t cut through the overwhelming fatigue I’d experienced lately.

I stumbled into the bathroom and turned to the mirror. I rotated my head slowly, examining the jagged cut of my auburn hair. My breath came in shallow bursts as I tugged at the shorter pieces, hoping it wasn’t as bad as it felt. But it was worse.

My hands trembled as I pressed them against the sink.

“What is happening?” I muttered, trying to slow the spin of my thoughts.

I marched into the kitchen, my heart riding that thin line between panic and rage. My husband, Caleb, was sitting at the kitchen table, coffee mug in one hand, scrolling through his phone like it was a normal Sunday morning.

“Caleb, what the heck happened to my hair?” I demanded, hands on my hips, my voice louder than I intended.

He looked up, brow furrowed like I’d just told him we were out of milk. “What are you talking about?”

“THIS.” I yanked at the uneven edges. “Someone cut my hair last night. Was it you?”

His face twisted in confusion, his eyes narrowing like I’d just insulted his mother. “Why would I do something like that? Are you serious right now?”

“Yes, I’m serious!” My voice cracked, and I hated that it did. “I woke up with half my hair on my pillow, Caleb.”

He stared at me, his eyes searching my face like he was looking for the “gotcha” moment of a prank. When he didn’t find it, he leaned back, shaking his head.