"What is wrong with it?"
Eugene peacocked before the mirror, looking at himself from every angle.
"What's wrong with what?"
"My nose, Rapunzel, no one can seem to portray it right." He turned to me, devastated.
"Well, I think it's perfect," I chuckled, kissing him on the top of said nose, wrapping my arms around my husband and going down to offer another to his lips.
"You're just saying that," he whispered, a light blush rising to his cheeks.
"No, I mean it," I laughed. "I think they're jealous," I added, "because they can't do it justice." I gazed into Eugene's eyes, hoping he knew I was telling the truth.
He smiled softly, touching my cheek. Smiling happily, I closed my eyes, acknowledging the hand with one of my own. "Well, I know one thing," he whispered, "I must have done something right to end up with someone as perfect as you."
At that moment, I knew I couldn't love Eugene more. Whether or not his nose was "right" didn't matter. All I knew was that he was right.
I hated to admit it, but now I was having doubts of my own.
"What is it?" Sensing my apprehension, Eugene wrapped his arms around me and held me close.
"Eugene," I whispered, "do you miss my long hair?"
"Do I—" Eugene looked at me, cocking his head at the question. Then he smiled, which turned into a soft laugh. "No, Rapunzel, I can't say I do." After all the times he'd freaked out over things it had done, that was probably the last thing on his mind. Besides, after he came to in the tower, he had admitted he had a thing for brunettes. "If you want to know the truth," he whispered, "I love you just the way you are."
"Eugene," I replied, "I—I'm sorry if—"
He just smiled. "—if it made me freak out so much?" he finished. He just chuckled. "It's okay—I just wasn't used to it, but you had to live with it for eighteen years." His face fell again. "I guess we're going to have to find you a new nickname… I guess I can't call you 'Blondie' or 'Goldie' anymore."
"That's ok," I replied, "just 'Rapunzel' will be fine."
Eugene's face lit up. "Or," he said, an idea coming to him, "did I hear correctly that the flower that saved your mother came from a drop of sunshine?"
I recalled the stories Mother often told me. "Yes, you did," I answered.
Eugene smiled. "Well, that settles it," he decided. "You are my Sunshine."
Sunshine. It was fitting no matter what color hair I had. Before, it was blonde, reflecting the sun, and now, I could see that I was making Eugene happy. And if Eugene was happy, well, that made me happy. I kissed him again, determined to live out our happily ever after.