Chapter 14
The first reconstructive surgery made me want to die from the pain.
The surgeon was cutting into my face, carving away dead tissue bit by bit, then grafting on new skin.
Even with anesthesia, I could feel everything–like someone was peeling me alive, layer by layer, raw and bloody.
When the drugs wore off, the pain was indescribable.
It felt like millions of fire ants were eating my face, like I was being burned and sliced at the same time.
I gritted my teeth and didn’t make a sound.
The nurses couldn’t stand watching me. “Honey, if it hurts, just scream. Don’t hold it in.”
“It’s worse when you bottle it up.”
I shook my head.
I didn’t want to scream, didn’t want to cry, didn’t want to look weak.
The physical pain was nothing compared to what was happening in my chest.
Twenty years of love, destroyed.
Destroyed by one evil woman and Alistair’s stupidity.
If he’d just been a little more careful, if he’d trusted me just a little more…
But there are no what–ifs.
The surgery was successful, but recovery was pure hell.
Daily bandage changes, pills by the handful, facing a stranger in the mirror every day.
When they peeled back the gauze, what was underneath was horrifying–raw, bloody flesh.
The new skin was this weird pink color that didn’t match anything else.
Scars crawled across my face like centipedes, twisted and ugly.
I thought about giving up more than once.
But every time I wanted to quit, I’d remember Seraphina’s smug smile.
No. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.
She wanted to destroy me? I’d show her what surviving looked like.
She wanted to watch me suffer? I’d live the best damn life I could.
Six months later, surgery number two.
This one was to fix the scarring, make my face look more normal.
Another round of pure agony.
22:48
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My Childhood Ex Ruined My Face for His Crush? Cute. I Ruined Their Lives
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Chapter 14
But I made it through.
Third surgery. fourth surgery….
Two whole years of my life spent going under the knife and healing.
Every surgery was like being reborn, every recovery was a transformation.
Alistair kept trying to see me during all this.
I turned him away every single time.
He’d stand outside the hospital for hours, sometimes all day.
Rain or shine, he wouldn’t leave..
One time it was pouring rain and he was just standing there, soaked to the bone.
Like some pathetic statue, not moving an inch.
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Even the nurses felt bad for him. “Sweetie, maybe you should talk to him. He looks so pitiful.”
Pitiful?
What did he have to be pitiful about?
I was the one who should be pitied.
I wouldn’t see him. Not ever.
Some things can’t be forgiven.
Some people you can never go back to.
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