Strings of Fate (Transformer Love Story)

Dendelion Part 1

"Need any help sweetly" I turn to the sound of light knock on my door . I can see my mother is leaning against my room's doorframe, crossing her arms.

"No I am good I think" I replied with exhaustion while trying to style my hair with my best attempt.

Keyword: Trying

As a typical amateur person who had never done it before it was hectic. Even my hair is not interested in cooperation. It keeps getting tangled into an uglymess.

"You sure? I can help you if you like"

I always find it offensive how my mother thinks that I can't handle myself.

Frowning, I parted my lips to retort but seeing my mother's pleading gaze through mirror, it makes me relent and reconsider her offer.

She is right thought

My best speculation will be that she couldn't tolerate my tedious workout over such frivolous task and I can't blame her. This has to be her fifth time knocking on my door, asking if not begging ,since my whole styling fiasco have begun.

"Fine"

Sighing, I slump against the chair, finally accepting my defeat. My arm muscles also started to cramp in such a level that I am certain they are not going to function for at least three days straight.

On the other hand my forty-year-old mother squealed with mirth like a teenager as she took her stand behind me.

"So what look are we thinking right now?"

"A bun would be nice"

"Right away Miss, one bun coming up " with that she drops a curtsy and makes me chuckle at the royalty treatment.

I squirm a tad bit to let myself get comfortable on the chair. My body started to tingle in pain mostly from sitting on the chair for too long.

Her hands slide through my hair strands like the professional she is.
This feeling of serenity and nostalgia of her hand doing their magic on my fizzy tangled hair never fails to wash me over.

In the lapse of silence between us, I was almost drooping into sleep over her tender motherly touch.

She used to do my hair so much when I was a kid.

Only one thing changed throughout the year which is

On cue

"So who's the luc-?"

"Mom...."

I retort calmly.

I knew this vicious question would come up. Every time I get myself dressed up all pretty and spend hours getting ready my mother would ask this same question without dropping a beat.

How she never got bored with this still baffles me.

Not once did she miss this opportunity to inquire about it.

"Common, don't be a party pooper spill the beans honey" crinkling her brows , she puts a so-called pout on her lips.

I roll my eyes with exasperation at that but end up ringing out a chuckle as my lips parted.

My mother's childish demeanor is an entertainment for me to relish anytime and every time.

"It's a self-date mother, do I need to have a plus one for a date to happen?" I try to explain myself with the most plausible reasoning while biting back a wince.

I heard my mother humming softly in response but it was sarcastic enough to imply that she isn't buying it.

Figures.