The Hair Tie

I was having dinner with my best friend, Alex, who had just gotten back to the country, when I noticed the small hair tie around his wrist.
I glanced at the matching one on my own wrist and gave him a knowing nudge.
“So when did this happen? Keeping secrets from me now?”
Alex just smiled and didn’t say a word, so I dropped it.
We were halfway through our meal when Sophia, my childhood sweetheart and soon-to-be fiancée, texted to ask where I was. She was out shopping and hungry. I sent her the address without a second thought.
Later, as Sophia leaned over to grab a piece of food, her long hair fell into her plate. I was about to reach over and tie it back for her, but Alex was faster.
He deftly gathered her hair and secured it with the tie from his wrist.
Noticing my stare, he quickly explained, “Force of habit from having dinner with my girlfriend so much. Don’t mind me.”
I said nothing.
That night, when we got home, I told Sophia, “Let’s call off the engagement.”
She rubbed her temples in irritation. “Just because he tied my hair?”

1.
“A man with a hair tie on his wrist is taken,” I said, looking at the pink band on my own arm. The words felt like a bitter joke.
I looked up at her. “It’s not because he tied your hair.”
“It’s because I suddenly realized that you and I don’t even have that ‘force of habit’.”
Sophia stared at me, her brow furrowed. “Tim, stop messing around,” she warned. “This merger was arranged by our grandfathers. You can’t just call it off.”
“Alex tying your hair today looked more natural than anything I’ve ever done for you.”
Her face darkened. “He’s your best friend. You know what he’s like. He’s a player; he’s smooth with everyone. He’s not like that with me because there’s something between us; he’s like that with all women. Can you please be a little more mature and not blow this out of proportion?”
The air in the room grew thick with tension. I loosened my tie. “I know exactly how many girlfriends Alex has had. But I also know he would never cross a line like that with someone else’s partner. Do you think I’m blind?”
Sophia’s face flushed a deep red, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. “That’s not fair, Tim! He just saw my hair was in my face and helped out. Why are you making such a big deal out of it? Only someone with a dirty mind would see it that way.”
The accusation stunned me. After a moment, I gave a humorless laugh. “Is that really how you see me?”
She looked away, a flicker of guilt in her eyes, and quickly changed the subject. “We’re supposed to be talking about the merger. Our families arranged this for the good of the companies. Don’t be so emotional.”
“In our world, plenty of couples have their own lives after getting married. It’s a business alliance. Feelings don’t have to be part of the deal.”
Her magnanimity made me feel small and petty, like I was the one making unreasonable demands. Suddenly, the whole conversation felt pointless. I had been in love with Sophia for over a decade. This marriage may have been arranged, but it couldn't have happened without our consent. I thought her agreeing meant she had some feelings for me, too.
Now I saw I had just been fooling myself.
Sophia rubbed her forehead. “My birthday is the day after tomorrow. Both our families are getting together for dinner. If you’re in a bad mood, you don’t have to come into the office for the next couple of days. Just rest at home.”
I didn’t answer.
The next morning, I was woken by my phone ringing. I stared at her name on the screen for a long moment before finally answering.
“Tim, where are you?” Her voice was its usual sweet, playful tone, as if our fight had never happened. “I left an urgent file in the study at home. I need it for a client meeting soon. Can you bring it to me?”
My fingers tightened around the phone. I didn’t speak.
She sighed softly, her voice softening. “I can’t get away from the office, and my driver called in sick. You’re the only person I can ask.”
The silence stretched between us until I heard the faint rustle of papers on her end. Finally, I heard my own dry voice say, “Address.”
Half an hour later, I arrived at her office. The door was slightly ajar. I was about to knock when I heard Alex’s voice from inside.

2.
“Your hair’s a mess again,” he said, his tone light and teasing, far more intimate than it had been at dinner. “I thought you said it was easier to work with it tied up.”
“You’re the one who messed it up when you snatched that file from me,” Sophia retorted playfully.
I froze, my hand hovering in the air.
Through the crack in the door, I could see Sophia sitting at her desk and Alex standing behind her. He reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the gesture impossibly intimate and natural.
Then, as if he’d just noticed me, his voice rose in perfectly feigned surprise. “Tim? What are you doing here?”
He pulled the door open, a look of pure innocence on his face.
Sophia looked up, saw the file in my hand, and immediately stood. “You brought it? Quick, give it to me.”
I didn’t move. My eyes were fixed on the stray hairs behind her ear. They were held in place by a small, silver clip. It wasn’t her style.
“I was just helping Sophia organize some documents. Her hair kept getting in the way,” Alex explained, his tone casual, but his eyes held a glint of challenge.
Sophia took the file from my hand. “Good thing you got here when you did. This would have been a disaster.”
I looked at her, my voice devoid of emotion. “Well, I hope…” I paused, my gaze sweeping over her disheveled blouse, “…that your appearance won’t be a disaster for your next meeting.”
Sophia noticed my stare and nervously smoothed her clothes. “I’ve just been so swamped with work.” It was a clumsy, obvious lie.
Alex leaned against the desk, his arms crossed. “Don’t worry, Tim. Sophia is a professional. She never lets personal matters get in the way of business.”
His words were a clear, smug insinuation.
“The file’s here. I’m leaving,” I said flatly.
As I turned, I heard Sophia say something under her breath, probably asking me to wait, but I didn’t look back.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. A text from Alex.
Tim, don’t take it the wrong way. There’s nothing going on between me and Sophia.
After I left her office, my phone didn't stop buzzing. The messages from Sophia started as angry demands, then shifted to soft, probing questions. I ignored them all.
Around eleven that night, my phone began to vibrate violently. Sophia’s name flashed on the screen, the shrill ringtone cutting through the silence of my apartment. I stared at it until the last possible second before swiping to answer.
“Tim…” Her voice was thick and slurred with alcohol. “Why didn’t you come find me…?”
The background was loud—clinking glasses, muffled music, and laughter.
“Where are you?” I asked, my brow furrowed.
“At… at a bar… you have to come… they’re all picking on me…”
Her words were jumbled, laced with the same coy flirtatiousness she’d used on the phone that morning. It was a world away from the cool, powerful woman in the office. I pinched the bridge of my nose, but I grabbed my car keys anyway.
I spotted her the moment I walked in, slumped in a corner booth. Empty glasses littered the table in front of her. She was leaning over, mumbling something to the person next to her.
And the person next to her was Alex.
I stopped in my tracks. Whatever small, pathetic flicker of concern I’d felt when she called died instantly.
I was about to turn and leave when her voice rose above the din, carrying clearly to where I stood.
“...you guys have no idea how boring Tim is…”
Her drunken complaint was like a physical blow.
“Being with him is a total drag. All he ever talks about is work, family, responsibility… there’s no romance, no fun…”
Someone at the table laughed. “What about Alex? He just got back. I bet he’s more romantic than Tim.”

3.
At the mention of Alex, a giddy, lovesick quality entered her voice. “Oh, definitely! Alex is different…”
“He knows what kind of flowers I like, he knows which restaurants have the best desserts, he even knows whether I’m tired or just annoyed by the way I frown…”
She paused, took another drink, and her words became even more slurred, and even more honest. “Honestly, if it weren’t for our grandfathers insisting on this merger, if it weren’t for the business… I would have told him the truth a long time ago…”
The table erupted in teasing. “Oh? Told him what? That you’re ready to make it official with Alex?”
“Shhh…” Sophia slurred, holding a finger to her lips. “Be quiet… don’t talk nonsense…”
“Even if I… make it official… we have to get married first…”
“Besides, Tim… he doesn’t know anything. He trusts us so much…”
Alex’s lazy, indulgent laugh cut in. “Alright, you’re drunk. Stop talking nonsense.” He was technically telling her to stop, but there was no real force behind it. He was enjoying it, basking in their secret flirtation.
I stood there, feeling the blood turn to ice in my veins.
The hair tie. Sophia had once told me it was a way of “staking a claim,” of telling the world, “This man is taken.”
But she had never been staking a claim on me. She had been using that cheap symbol to trap me, the trusting fool who “didn’t know anything,” so she could carry on her affair and laugh behind my back about how boring and predictable I was.
I finally understood why we had no “force of habit.” It wasn’t a lack of familiarity. It was a lack of heart. Her heart had never been with me.
The merger, the family responsibilities—they were all just excuses. A smokescreen to hide the fact that she was happy to accept my love but unwilling to offer any of her own in return.
I turned to leave, and crashed right into a server. The tray went flying, and a sticky concoction of cocktails drenched my shirt.
“Sir! Are you okay? I am so sorry, I’ll get that cleaned up for you right away!”
I was about to wave him off when I heard Sophia’s voice. “Tim…? What are you doing here?”
For a second, I thought she must be hallucinating from the alcohol. “Weren’t you the one who invited me here to watch this little show?”
The booze hadn’t worn off. Her face was flushed as she mumbled, “I… I invited you? Did I… I…”
Before she could finish, she retched, vomiting all over the table.
Alex jumped back, a look of pure disgust on his face. She reached for him, trying to steady herself, but he deftly sidestepped her.
“Sophia, I’m… I’m gonna go get cleaned up. I’ll be right back to take care of you.”
He practically ran from the booth, his hand over his nose.
With nothing to hold onto, Sophia began to crumple to the floor.
On pure instinct, I lunged forward and caught her. “Careful!”
She sagged against me, still heaving, the acrid smell of alcohol and bile washing over me. I grimaced but held her steady, one hand on her back, patting it gently. I’ve always hated the smell of vomit, but Sophia loved to drink. Over the years, I had gotten used to it.
The rest of the table had fallen silent, staring at us. The same friends who had been teasing her moments before now looked away, embarrassed. I ignored them and half-carried her out of the bar.

4.
The cool night air seemed to sober her up a little. She leaned against my shoulder, whimpering, “Tim… I feel sick…”
That small, dependent sound would have melted my heart before. Now, it just left me cold.
I put her in the passenger seat, buckled her in, and drove to her apartment. Getting her inside was a struggle. She was a dead weight, her clothes were a mess, and her hair was matted to her face.
I found a wet towel and awkwardly began to clean her up. Her eyes fluttered open, and she watched me for a moment before her hand shot out and grabbed my wrist.
“Tim… don’t be mad at me…”
I froze, her words from the bar echoing in my head. Boring. No fun. If it weren’t for the merger… My chest tightened, a dull ache spreading through it.
It was the middle of the night by the time I finally got her settled. The apartment reeked of alcohol. I opened a window and sat in the dark, unable to sleep.
The next day was Sophia’s birthday party, held at my family’s estate.
By the time I arrived, both our families were already there, chatting amiably in the living room. Sophia looked radiant, with no trace of the previous night’s drunken mess. She was laughing with her mother, but her eyes flickered toward me when I walked in. She didn’t greet me.
I had just sat down when the doorbell rang.
The butler opened it to reveal Alex, holding a beautifully wrapped gift.
“Sophia, happy birthday,” he said with a charming smile.
Sophia’s parents’ expressions stiffened. My own grandfather frowned. Alex was an outsider. His presence at an intimate family gathering was a major breach of etiquette.
But before anyone could say anything, Sophia had already taken the gift. “Thank you, Alex! I’m so glad you could make it.”
Her tone was warm and familiar, completely ignoring the tense atmosphere in the room.

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