Sweet Mischief’s Rollercoaster Romance

Mia was fuming, her teeth clenched as she swung the car door open. She threw a warning over her shoulder at her husband, "You're on thin ice for lying to me. Make sure our son's tucked in nice and warm; we don't need him catching a cold." With that, she stormed toward the school building, a blur as she breezed past the old professor and plopped down into her seat like a shadow.

The professor chimed in, "Principal, the school's track and field day is coming up. Fancy signing up for the marathon?"

The whole class turned to look at Mia, seated at the back.

Glued to her phone, chatting with her husband, she was oblivious until someone nudged her. Looking up, bewildered, she managed a "Huh?" as if she had missed a question.

The professor, taking her confusion for agreement, cheerily announced, "Then let's congratulate our principal in advance for securing the win!"

Mia was lost, "What? What just happened?"

By the end of the class, the realization of what she had unwittingly agreed to sank in. She was filled with regret and too distracted to pay attention to the lesson.

After school, she bolted to the car, only to find her son still sleeping and her husband with a look of resignation. "Didn't I tell you to wake him up?"

Mia was at a loss on where to even start with her husband.

Andre shrugged, "Tried waking him, short of shaking him awake."

"Might as well have!" Mia retorted.

Andre then carefully transferred their son into Mia's arms, "Your turn."

Looking down at her son's cherubic, peacefully sleeping face, the world seemed serene and beautiful through his innocence. Mia couldn't bring herself to wake him, "Honey, I got roped into signing up for the marathon by the professor, ugh, it's just terrible." She recounted her ordeal to her husband, her spirits dampening at the thought, "I can't do it. Let's pretend I'm sick that day, you could get a doctor's note for me..."

in, "They've canceled

spirits lifted instantly, her sobs ceasing as she turned to

the car towards the barbershop, "With a word from

help

a newfound joy in wielding

they drove, "You're so smart, love you. But,

quipped, "Where's

next corner, then a right at the third traffic

...

the barbershop, its lights shining bright, a two-story building that screamed chic from every angle. The white walls contrasted with the shop's

face the world. Andre took their son into his arms as the

the little one, who instinctively turned into

son's got a photo shoot this weekend, let's go bold and

you done this before?"

knowing her son's temperament, "First time. An experienced hand

holding their son, waiting, "Mrs. Cedillo, even without your request, we'd only have

seasoned

son, nestled in Andre's arms,

her son's ear, "You won't cut him,

and tongue peeking out,

for little ones usually meant being held by their parents, a task naturally falling

across her lap, he sensed the strange adults with their tools and began to cry, his whimpers escalating into loud sobs despite the distractions of toys and

wriggling made it impossible to proceed. "Look, a