A Woman Was Born With a Lock of Hair in the Middle of Her Forehead and Doesn’t Mind the Hateful Comments

In a world with defined beauty standards, it takes courage to embrace one’s uniqueness fully. Rada, a stunning model, exemplifies this courage as she proudly defends the distinctive patch of hair that grows from her forehead against online trolls and critics.

She went viral for her unique look

At just 18 years old, model Rada Prelevic, also known as Rada Viic on Instagram and TikTok, has captured the attention of social media users worldwide due to a distinctive feature: long strands of hair that gracefully hang from her forehead. Despite the fascination for her unique trait, Rada often finds herself subjected to harsh criticism and hurtful comments online. Trolls label her appearance as «bizarre» and suggest that she remove the locks.

In a candid video shared with her followers, she courageously affirmed that she really loves her hair and she won’t shave it. She also questions herself about why her unique hair bothers so many people.

She was born with it.

The Serbian-born model, now based in Oslo, Norway, where she has been living since the age of 5, shed light on the origins of her distinctive feature. Reflecting on her unusual trait, Rada explained that she was born with it. And there’s no explanation as to why the hair is placed on her forehead and has grown so much. She only knows that the patch is a birthmark.

The hate doesn’t bother her.

Rada’s confidence in her appearance is not only admirable but also inspiring. Despite the online hate, she remains firm in her conviction that her forehead birthmark is a beautiful and integral part of her identity. Her refusal to conform to societal pressures sends a powerful message of empowerment and self-acceptance to her followers and beyond.

The amount of support from Rada’s followers serves as a reminder that kindness and acceptance far exceed negativity. Hundreds of supportive messages flooded the comments section of her post, applauding her confidence and praising her unique beauty.

Her hair helps her modeling career.

For Rada, the unique lock of hair coming from her forehead has evolved into a unique feature, one that she proudly embraces as her personal «trademark» within the fashion industry. She notices that fashion magazines and photographers love her appearance, making her even prouder of the way she looks.

In matters of love and relationships, Rada’s self-assurance extends to her personal life as well. She says that she would never compromise her authenticity for the sake of romantic companionship. She firmly states that she would never be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t appreciate her for who she is.

Rada’s resolute self-confidence and refusal to conform to societal standards of beauty serve as a powerful reminder of the importance of embracing one’s individuality. In the face of relentless criticism and online hate, she remains firm in her self-acceptance, inspiring countless others to celebrate their unique traits and differences without fear or hesitation.

Preview photo credit rada.viic / TikTokrada.viic / Instagram

My Best Friend Married My Ex-husband — Then She Called Me in the Middle of the Night, Terrified

When Stacey married Lily’s ex-husband, Alan, it seemed like the ultimate betrayal. But a late-night call filled with terror revealed a dark secret neither woman was prepared for, forcing Lily and Stacey to confront the man who shattered both their lives.

Alan and I had been married for seven years. Seven long years that gave me two beautiful daughters, Mia (5) and Sophie (4), and left me with a heart fractured in ways I didn’t know were possible.

A couple | Source: Unsplash

A couple | Source: Unsplash

At first, Alan was my dream man. He had this magnetic charm, the kind that made people lean in just a little closer when he spoke. He knew how to make me feel like I was the only woman in the world. But that glow didn’t last.

By year five, I noticed the cracks. Alan would come home late, his excuses so thin they were practically see-through. Work trips that didn’t make sense. Texts he wouldn’t let me see. Then, one night, I got the confirmation I’d been dreading. A single blonde hair on his suit jacket. Not mine.

My heart screamed with rage. I knew something was wrong. I knew he was destroying everything we built.

A distressed woman | Source: Midjourney

A distressed woman | Source: Midjourney

I confronted him. His reaction? A cold denial, followed by an avalanche of gaslighting. “You’re imagining things, Lily. Stop being so insecure,” he yelled once.

But it wasn’t just my imagination. It was real. Silently, I vowed to myself that I would not let him make me doubt my instincts.

The final straw came when I caught him red-handed. The image of him with her — Kara, a woman I didn’t even know — was burned into my memory. He didn’t even apologize. He just packed a bag and left as though nothing had happened.

And just like that, Alan abandoned me and our daughters. For a year and a half, I struggled to rebuild my life. Therapy, late nights working to support the girls, and a constant ache in my chest that wouldn’t go away.

Then came the news that made my stomach churn: Alan had married Stacey, my best friend.

A newlywed couple | Source: Unsplash

A newlywed couple | Source: Unsplash

I couldn’t believe it at first. Stacey had been my confidante during my marriage, the one person I told everything to. She knew everything about me… about how I felt like I was losing Alan, how I feared he was cheating, and how devastated I was when he finally left.

A painful realization cut through me, “How could she do this to me?”

When Stacey called to tell me she was engaged to Alan, I froze. “You’re kidding, right?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“No,” she said. “Alan loves me, Lily. I hope… I hope we can still be friends.”

Friends? Was she serious?

“You’re marrying the man who broke me, Stacey. And you think I want to stay friends? Good luck with that.” I hung up before she could respond.

Grayscale shot of a woman holding a phone | Source: Midjourney

Grayscale shot of a woman holding a phone | Source: Midjourney

I thought that was the end of it. I wanted it to be the end of it. But then, a year into their marriage, my phone rang at three in the morning, dragging me back into Alan’s world.

Groggy and annoyed, I squinted at my phone. Stacey’s name flashed on the screen. I didn’t want to believe it.

“Of all the nerve, calling me at this hour?” I muttered to myself.

I debated ignoring it. Why would she, of all people, be calling me in the middle of the night? But curiosity won out, and against my better judgment, I answered.

A phone on the bed flashing an incoming call | Source: Midjourney

A phone on the bed flashing an incoming call | Source: Midjourney

“Hello?” I said, my voice heavy with irritation.

What I heard next made me sit up straight.

“Lily, I need your help!” Stacey’s voice was frantic and barely coherent. “This concerns you more than you think. Please… don’t hang up. Please.”

My heart raced with anger and anticipation. What could she possibly want?

A woman seeing her phone | Source: Midjourney

A woman seeing her phone | Source: Midjourney

“Stacey?” I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the grogginess. “What’s going on? Look, I don’t have anything to—”

“Alan… he’s not who I thought he was. He’s worse, Lily. So much worse,” she cut me off.

I felt a shiver run down my spine. What could be worse than what I already know?

“Worse? What are you talking about?” I asked.

She inhaled sharply, trying to steady her voice. “He has a wardrobe in his office. He always told me not to go in there, but yesterday I did. Lily, the inside is covered in photos. Of women. Dozens of women. Me. You. Her. And others I don’t even recognize.”

An anxious woman talking on the phone | Source: Pexels

An anxious woman talking on the phone | Source: Pexels

A cold realization crept into my thoughts. This is about to get ugly.

I gripped the phone, my stomach turning. “Photos? What kind of photos?”

My mind raced with horrifying possibilities. What could be in those photos? How had I not found them? Was this why he’d prohibited me from entering his office when we were married?

“They all have dates and numbers written on them,” she whispered. “I think… I think he’s been cheating on me. On both of us. On everyone.”

A woman holding a photograph of another lady | Source: Midjourney

A woman holding a photograph of another lady | Source: Midjourney

My throat felt dry. But I didn’t care. “Stacey, why are you telling me this? You married him. You knew what he was capable of.”

Her voice cracked. “Because I didn’t believe you! I thought you were bitter. But now, I’m scared, Lily. I don’t know what he’ll do if he finds out I’ve seen it. Please, can I come over? I don’t feel safe.”

Stacey showed up at my house less than an hour later, her face pale and drawn. She was clutching her phone like a lifeline.

“Start talking,” I said, crossing my arms. My eyes bore into her, demanding the full truth.

She sat on my couch, wringing her hands. “I went back into his office last night. After he left for a two-day fishing trip, I managed to break into the wardrobe. He keeps it locked. But I managed to open it with a screwdriver. It wasn’t just photos, Lily. There were journals. Notes about the women. Ratings. Scores. He’s been doing this for years.”

A frustated woman | Source: Pexels

A frustated woman | Source: Pexels

A twisted sense of validation burned inside me. “I always knew he was worse than he seemed,” I laughed.

“How many women?” My heart raced, dreading the answer.

“At least 40 during your marriage,” she said, her eyes brimming with tears. “And eight more since we got married. Eight women in just two months.”

The weight of betrayal pressed down on me, threatening to suffocate. It was like a punch to the gut. I thought I had moved on, but the betrayal felt fresh and raw.

“Why are you dragging me into this?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“Because he’s the father of your daughters,” Stacey said. “Don’t you want to know who he really is? What he’s capable of? Don’t you want to expose him?”

A woman lost in deep thought | Source: Midjourney

A woman lost in deep thought | Source: Midjourney

Her words hit a nerve. As much as I hated Alan, I had to protect my girls. “Fine,” I said, grabbing my laptop. “Show me what you’ve got.”

For the next few hours, Stacey and I worked together, identifying the women in Alan’s photos. Reverse image searches online led us to their social media profiles. When we reached out and met some of them in person the following morning, most confirmed short, meaningless encounters with Alan.

My mind raced with horror and vindication. How could one person be so calculated?

One woman described him as “charming, until he wasn’t.” Another called him “cold and calculating.” Each story added a new layer to the monster I’d once called my husband.

A bitter laugh escaped me. “I should have known. I always knew something was off,” I told Stacey.

Two women sitting on the couch | Source: Midjourney

Two women sitting on the couch | Source: Midjourney

By dusk, she looked at me, her face pale. “What do we do now?”

“We’re not victims anymore. We’re survivors,” I declared. “We fight back.”

A dangerous glint entered my eyes, “Alan has no idea what’s coming,” I added.

When he returned from his fishing trip and found Stacey gone, his rage spilled over. He tried to show up at her new place, banging on the door, demanding answers. She called the police, and he left before they arrived.

The weeks that followed were a whirlwind. Stacey filed for divorce, cutting all ties with Alan. I reopened my custody case, armed with evidence of his behavior.

Alan didn’t take it well. He sent me a flurry of messages, first pleading, then threatening. I blocked him.

A woman looking at her phone | Source: Pexels

A woman looking at her phone | Source: Pexels

In court, the evidence we presented was damning. Alan’s charm couldn’t save him this time. The photos, the journals, the testimonies… every bit of it painted a clear picture of the man he truly was.

After the dust settled, Stacey and I found ourselves sitting in my living room, a quiet relief hanging between us.

“We made it through!” I said, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders

“Thank you,” Stacey said softly. “For helping me. For believing me.”

My anger softened, replaced by an unexpected understanding. We were both victims of his manipulation. But we were not weak.

A sad woman | Source: Midjourney

A sad woman | Source: Midjourney

I looked at her, the anger I’d carried for so long finally fading. “We both deserved better than him.”

A moment of shared pain and healing passed between us.

She nodded. “So… what now?”

My spirit felt renewed, ready for whatever came next. I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Now, we move on. Together.”

A fierce sense of sisterhood emerged, stronger than any betrayal. And for the first time in years, I felt free. Not just from Alan, but from the pain he had caused.

Two women hugging each other | Source: Midjourney

Two women hugging each other | Source: Midjourney

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

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