Long hair love

Chapter 6 - One Yoga Video

The video promised a gentle twelve-minute routine for beginners.

Ishan spread a bedsheet on the floor and placed his phone against a jar.

The first few movements felt easy. Then the instructor asked him to bend forward.

Ishan reached towards his feet and discovered how far away they were.

"This is not for beginners," he told the phone.

He continued anyway.

His back resisted every slow movement at first. By the end, the stiffness across his shoulders had reduced, and the room felt quieter.

Twelve minutes had passed without him checking a message.

He sat on the floor for another minute before getting up.

The following evening, his back was no longer aching.

He still opened the same video.

That choice mattered more than completing it the first time. The first attempt had solved a problem. The second happened because he wanted the calm feeling afterward.

On the third evening, he repeated it again.

The bedsheet moved beneath his feet, so he folded it twice and continued more carefully. He did not search for harder videos or make a large plan. Twelve minutes were enough.

At the end of the week, a work call continued through his usual exercise time.

When it finished, Ishan was tired. His game controller was on the sofa, and skipping one evening seemed reasonable.

He almost sat down.

Then he played only the final five minutes of the yoga video.

It was not a perfect routine, but it kept the choice his own.

Afterward, he added a small mark to that day on his phone calendar.

By the end of the second week, the marks had formed a row.

Cooking had begun because he needed food. Yoga continued because he liked how his body felt afterward.

His movements became less stiff. He could bend further without forcing himself, and his shoulders no longer remained raised while he worked at his desk.

One evening, Ritika called earlier than usual.

Ishan knew something had changed as soon as he saw her face.

"What happened?"

"They want me to stay four more weeks."

He looked towards the empty chair across the dining table.

"So ten weeks in total?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to stay?"

"I want to finish what I started. But I already told you six weeks."

Ishan was disappointed. He missed hearing her enter the flat in the evening. He even missed her asking whether the kitchen counter had been wiped.

But asking her to return would turn his loneliness into her responsibility.

"Then finish it properly," he said.

"Are you sure?"

"The flat is fine."

"And you?"

"Also fine."

"That answer was suspiciously quick."

Ishan turned the camera towards the kitchen. The counter was clear, and a pot of dal rested on the stove.

"I have evidence."

Ritika laughed softly.

"Four more weeks," she said.

"Four more weeks."

After the call, the flat felt quieter than before.

Ishan completed his twelve minutes of yoga anyway.

The assignment extension tested the routines he had built. He no longer treated cooking, cleaning, or yoga as temporary tasks he was performing until Ritika returned. They had become part of his own day.

His morning tablet reminder continued as well.

The white carton contained several identical strips. When one strip finished, Ishan began the next without giving it special attention. The progress in his hair had convinced him that the routine was working.

Over the following weeks, the change became easier to see.

The thin area at his crown no longer caught the light first. The short regrowth near his temples had become darker, and the longer side strands reached his jaw even when they were dry. When wet, their ends came close to his chin.

The new length changed the shape around his face. It curved inward near his cheeks instead of rising away from them.

Because he remained clean-shaven, there was no dark stubble to sharpen his jaw. His cheeks looked smooth and softly rounded, while the lower part of his face appeared less broad than before.

Other changes appeared alongside the yoga routine.

Ishan remained slightly chubby. His stomach was still soft, and nobody would have described him as slim. But his waist had narrowed enough that his jeans no longer pressed against it after dinner.

He stood straighter, and his shoulders rested more naturally instead of folding forward.

Ishan understood the changes in the simplest way available to him. The tablets were helping his hair. Better food was reducing his weight. Yoga was improving his posture.

Ritika reached the same conclusion during their calls.

"Your hair has really grown," she said one Sunday.

Ishan moved back so she could see it properly.

"The sides are almost at my chin."

"And your face looks different."

"Different bad?"

"No. Less tired. Softer, perhaps."

Ishan touched one clean-shaven cheek.

"That is because I finally listened to you about sleeping and moving."

"Please repeat that sentence. I want to record it."

"Too late."

Neither of them connected his softer face or changing waist with the tablets.

On the final Sunday before Ritika's return, Ishan tried making vegetable pulao.

He prepared too much, but the rice remained separate and the vegetables were properly cooked.

He sent Ritika a photograph.

This time, she did not make a joke.

**I am proud of you, Ishu.**

Ishan read the message twice.

Later, he opened the photograph he had taken of his hair that morning.

For months, his eyes had gone directly to the thin crown.

Now he noticed the length first.

His hair framed his clean face and curved around his jaw. The shape was still uneven, but it no longer looked like hair he had simply forgotten to cut.

It looked like hair he was choosing to grow.

Ishan pushed the sides behind his ears.

He liked the way they fell forward again.

His phone calendar showed twenty-two yoga marks for the month.

Ritika would return the following Sunday.

For the first time, Ishan was not waiting for her to restore order to the flat.

He wanted her to see what he had built while she was away.