The Salon Visit: From Meghan Markle’s Point of View
The Salon Visit: From Meghan Markle’s Point of View
The bright Los Angeles sun filtered through the glass doors of the salon as Meghan stepped inside, grateful for the cool air and the quiet hum of dryers in the background. Life had been hectic lately, and she was looking forward to an hour of pampering. The salon, one of her favorites in the city, offered her a rare chance to relax in peace without being hounded by cameras or fans.
Meghan tucked her sunglasses into her bag and smiled at the receptionist, who nodded her over to the waiting area. Settling into a plush chair, she flipped open a magazine, casually glancing through articles about travel and lifestyle. Her hair, tied loosely back, felt heavy after a long week, and she was eager to have it washed and styled.
The Stylist
“Mrs. Markle?” a calm voice called, breaking her concentration. She looked up to see a young man in a neatly pressed black shirt and apron standing before her. His demeanor was professional, his tone polite.
“Yes,” she said, smiling.
“I’ll be taking care of you today,” he said with a slight bow. His accent was American, and though she didn’t recognize him, she assumed he was part of the team. The salon often brought in extra stylists to handle busy days.
She followed him to the washing station, appreciating how smoothly he guided her. He pulled out the chair, adjusting it carefully as she reclined.
The Wash
The warm water cascaded over her scalp, and Meghan let out a quiet sigh of relief. The tension she’d been carrying in her shoulders began to melt away.
“Let me know if the water’s too hot,” the stylist said.
“It’s perfect,” Meghan replied, closing her eyes.
As he worked the shampoo into her hair, his fingers moved with a precision that surprised her. The massage was firm but soothing, and she felt herself sinking deeper into relaxation. He seemed thorough, taking his time to ensure every strand was covered.
“You’re very good at this,” Meghan said softly, half-joking but genuinely impressed.
“Thank you,” he replied. “I like to make sure everything’s just right.”
The scent of the shampoo, floral with a hint of citrus, filled the air as he rinsed the lather away. His hands moved with care as he applied the conditioner, combing it through her hair with his fingers. Meghan noted how attentive he was—not rushing, but not lingering awkwardly either. It was a balance she appreciated.
The Blowout
Once the washing was done, she followed him to the styling chair. He draped a cape over her shoulders and began brushing her hair. She watched him in the mirror, noting the calm focus on his face as he worked.
“Do you enjoy doing this?” she asked, making polite conversation.
He looked up briefly, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “Very much,” he said with a small smile. “It’s satisfying to see the transformation.”
She nodded, smiling back. “Well, it’s definitely appreciated.”
As he began drying her hair, she felt the warmth of the blow dryer and the smooth pull of the brush through her strands. He worked meticulously, section by section, until her hair fell in glossy, soft waves.
“Do you get nervous working with clients?” she asked, half-teasing.
“Not usually,” he replied, pausing briefly to adjust the angle of the dryer. “I just focus on doing my best.”
When he finished, he stepped back, letting her take in the results. Her reflection in the mirror made her smile—her hair was sleek, voluminous, and flawless.
“All done,” he said, his voice tinged with quiet pride.
“It’s beautiful,” Meghan said, running her fingers through her hair. “Thank you so much.”
“My pleasure,” he replied, giving her a polite nod before walking away.
The Odd Exit
Meghan stood and gathered her belongings, heading to the front desk to settle her bill. As she handed over her card, she glanced around, noticing that the stylist wasn’t anywhere in sight. Usually, the person who worked on her hair would check in afterward to ensure everything was to her liking, but this time, he had disappeared.
“Where did he go?” she asked the receptionist.
The woman looked up, confused. “Who?”
“The stylist who worked on me,” Meghan said. “I didn’t catch his name.”
The receptionist frowned. “We don’t have anyone new on the schedule today.”
Meghan’s smile faltered. “I’m sorry—what?”
Realizing something was off, the receptionist quickly apologized and promised to look into it. Meghan left the salon feeling unsettled, the perfect style of her hair now tainted by a lingering unease.
The Aftermath
Later that evening, Meghan couldn’t shake the feeling that something strange had happened. While the stylist had been professional and courteous, the lack of introduction and his sudden disappearance gnawed at her. The more she thought about it, the more questions she had. Who had he been? And why did he leave so abruptly?
Unbeknownst to her, every moment of her visit had been captured on a hidden camera and uploaded to a dark corner of the internet. While Meghan admired her hair in the mirror at home, thousands of strangers were watching the same moment unfold, their anonymous comments flooding an encrypted forum.
Let me know if you'd like to expand on this perspective or add further details!
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