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The house was quiet when Andy came home from work. Too quiet. Well, the kids were at Frank's for the weekend, as far as Andy was aware. Emily, however, should be home, and still awake. She never was asleep at this time. She usually waited for Andy to come home, anyways.
Andy moved through the halls of the house quietly and carefully, trying to listen for any potential noises.
"Emily?"
No response. Great. Where was she?
"Em, baby, where are you?"
Then, in the stillness, Andrea heard sniffles coming from the bathroom. Oh. The brunette walked over and knocked on the door softly.
"You okay, baby? Can I come in?"
When she didn't receive an answer, Andy sighed.
"I'm going to open that door now, if I don't get any further answer, Em."
At that, she could hear Emily's shaky breaths growing a little louder from inside the bathroom.
"No, don't come in– don't. Don't look at me."
"I'm sure it won't be that bad, baby. You always look gorgeous."
"No! Don't, I– I look bloody horrendous."
Emily's voice broke towards the end of her sentence, dissolving into more quiet little sobs.
Andy decided then and there that it didn't matter if Emily wanted her to see her or not. Gently, she pushed the door open, just to find Emily sitting on the floor with her back against the bathtub. She immediately turned away from Andy.
"No, get out, don't look at me, I'm–"
"Emily."
Andy carefully crouched down and grabbed Emily's wrists. Just then, she saw what Emily's problem was. Where there had been bleach blonde hair before, there was now, well, nothing. The chunks of her hair were laying in the sink, seemingly taunting Emily from up there.
"Em, wh–"
Andrea didn't get far with her words until her girlfriend started crying again and grabbed her hand tightly. Emily had cut and shaved her hair down to a buzzcut, all the bleached blonde hair cut off.
"It looks stupid, I know, I–"
Emily sniffed, her eyes looking everywhere but at Andy.
"The bleach damaged it. Really badly. Beyond repair."
She fidgeted with her sleeves while taking, eyes locked on her glasses that she had discarded on the floor, a few feet away. She swallowed roughly.
"I look horrific,"
Emily started, immediately breaking out into sobs again.
"I'd understand if you were to just leave, I mean, look at me, this is– who in their right mind would–"
Andrea cut her off by placing a hand on her cheek, breaking her out of her rapidly spiralling thoughts.
"Emily. Em, baby. I don't care about your hair. Stop spiraling. I still think you look beautiful."
"I really don't, Andrea, don't lie to me."
"But I'm not. I'm not lying, doll."
Emily looked up at Andrea with tearful eyes at the use of that nickname. The brunette looked deadly serious, her thumb still caressing Emily's cheek.
"For what it's worth, I think you still look absolutely gorgeous."
The woman laughs wetly, her fingers closing around the wrist of Andy's hand that was still touching her cheek.
"You're bloody insane."
"Insanely in love, maybe."
"Unbelievable."
Emily murmurs, shaking her head. She runs a hand over her hair and briefly stills. Andrea can see the tears welling back up, and she very quickly decides that that's not going to happen. She grabs Emily's hand and pulls her up, towards their living room.
"Come on, doll. Let's get you out of here. Have you eaten yet?"
Emily shakes her head in response.
"Of course not. Alright, we're ordering takeout. Indian?"
Emily scoffs, crossing her arms.
"Andrea, please. I'm already bald, I can't afford to be fat as well."
Andrea nods with faux seriousness, putting a palm flat over her heart.
"Wise. Sushi it is."
"I didn't say–"
"Shush. Sushi it is."
Emily didn't have the mental strength to interject, so she just sighed in the most exasperated way she could muster and sat down on the couch. Whatever. She'd worry about her calorie-intake another day.
For now she had other problems to fix, she noted, as she ran a hand through her hair, or rather over what was left of it, once again.
── .✦ ݁˖
Emily had no problems styling her new haircut, not by any means. Emily didn't do struggling, not when it came to her appearance.
The problem were the looks. And she got a ton of those. When she walked into the boardroom at Coach the next day, the whole table went quiet. Emily clenched her jaw, setting down her things.
"Are you all quite done staring? We have a collection to discuss."
She snapped, probably rougher than she had to be. But it did it's intended purpose.
It was ironic, really. Emily had always viewed her hair as a sort of self-expression she couldn't quite reach with her clothes. The firey red for dedication and passion, the bleached blonde as a way to start over.
And now, well, this. With most of her hair gone, she felt uncomfortably exposed. This hairstyle didn't really have any meaning to her, except that the stupid box dye had fucked up her beloved hair majorly. It was simply, utterly embarrassing.
No one asked questions about it luckily, and Emily preferred it that way. Not that she'd tell anyone about the split ends and the mental breakdown she had had after cutting it all off. It wasn't the first time she'd cut her hair, she did so quite regularly, but it had never been this bad, this much of a change.
It took her a long time to believe Andy that she still found her pretty.
Emily hated looking in the mirror. She hadn't particularly liked it before, either, but now it was worse. It was like a constant reminder of just how far she'd lost control over her own life. How bloody pathetic she felt. Hair really wasn't supposed to be this meaningful, yet she couldn't ignore the pit in her stomach. No matter how hard she tried to.
A thing that did make her feel better though, were her kids' reactions. They had been at their fathers that day, and hadn't witnessed Emily's absolutely catastrophical breakdown. Bronwyn squealed in delight when she saw her mum's new hairstyle, and Roark stared up at her with big, sweet eyes. And that was enough for Emily.
The happy moment didn't last all too long, though. It never did. As Emily got up from hugging her kids, she heard a sneer from above her. Right. Frank.
Emily slowly looked up at him, suddenly feeling a little dizzy. Not the good kind she felt when she looked at Andy, but the one that made her physically nauseous. Frank tended to have that effect on her.
"Frank."
The man stared at her, with the exact look he had used on her back when they were still married, when he had felt like he had the audacity to comment on her post-pregnancy body. His comments about her appearance had always been his greatest weapon, and he knew how it fucked with Emily.
"Trying somethin' new, eh? You look like you're havin' a midlife crisis."
Emily grit her teeth, the muscles in her jaw jumping. This pathetic excuse of a man had no right —
"And if she were, trying something new? How would that concern you?"
Andy smoothly cut in before Emily could respond, appearing behind her girlfriend suddenly. The brunette shot the man a glare so deadly that Emily thought he might disintegrate into ash. Where had she learned that again?
Frank, who didn't have a response ready, because he never did when it was Andy, just scoffed.
"Yeah, yeah. Keep playin' guard dog and see where that'll get you, Sachs."
"It was lovely seeing you, Frank. You can leave now."
Andy said sweetly, closing the door in his face before he could respond with anything else. She turned back to Emily, her expression now worried. Her hands settled on her girlfriends waist.
"You okay?"
Emily gave a non-committal hum, burying her face in the hollow of Andy's throat. The brunette smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. The kids had already gone upstairs to unpack their stuff, so it was just the two of them in the hallway.
They stayed in the embrace until Emily decided she'd had enough and pulled away, which took longer than it usually did. Frank really did manage to get into her head every single time.
"C'mon, how about I cook us some dinner, and then we can eat together, with the kids?"
Emily raised an eyebrow at Andrea.
"You? Cooking? Do you wish to burn the house to the ground?"
Andrea huffed, swatting at Emily's arm in response.
"I can cook!"
"I'm sure you can, darling. If we count reheating takeout as cooking."
Andy pouted at her, giving her the best puppy eyes she could muster. Which were, unfortunately for Emily, very effective.
"You do it, then."
"Gladly. I value my kitchen, after all."
── .✦ ݁˖
It got better over time.
Of course Emily was going to grow her hair back out, there was no debate in that at all, but she did have some fun with it while it was short. Short hair proved to have a lot of variety in styling and Emily, evidently, used that to her advantage for Galas, charity events and date nights.
Obviously, there were moments where the insecurity came back full force and she couldn't look in the mirror at all. But Andy was there, because Andy always was, and she kept reminding Emily that her hair didn't define her.
It was so disgustingly sweet and made Emily want to put up walls higher than ever. But then again, she's never been able to do that with Andrea. That ridiculous woman had an effect on her that she couldn't explain to anyone, really.
Emily would never want anyone else.