Impair (verb): to weaken

Today, her hair ran like a soft brown river. The wine red that usually colored her lips was traded for a gentle, peach-like pink. No earrings. Just a simple necklace of white pearls. Freed from the restraint of skirts, she darted eagerly towards her boyfriend, sporting a pair of jean shorts.

The grimace on his face made her freeze.

“What are you wearing?!” His voice was unusually sharp.

The woman stumbled back, stunned. “Uh—Well, I… I was feeling confident and w-wanted to try something new today.”

“Don’t do that again. Cover up! No one is going to respect that kind of outfit.”

She suddenly felt cold despite the sunlight, shivering against the stare of every passerby, the brushes of every breeze over her skin—as if all her vulnerabilities were on display. Tears edged at her eyes.

Immediately, her boyfriend relaxed, a wide smile replacing the stone profile from mere seconds ago. “But of course, I always respect you.” He threaded a hand through her hair. “Remember what I said? I told you I liked your wavy hair more. And red lipstick makes your lips fuller. You’re beautiful… those things would just make you prettier.”

He opened his arms, and the woman hesitantly stepped into his embrace.

“I love you, remember?” His soft whisper tickled the tips of her ear, making her blush against her will. “So, you’ll change for me, right?”