Chapter 2

For three days when I couldn't see, Dashiell bathed me, fed me, and massaged me, taking care of me attentively throughout.

However, every night after removing my hearing aids, he would leave without looking back.

On the day the bandages were removed, doctors and nurses surrounded my hospital bed.

As I regained my sight, the first thing I saw was Dashiell's face, full of love and with reddened eyes.

"Darling, you've been through so much. It must have hurt terribly. I couldn't live without you."

A nurse beside him handed him a tissue. The man looked up and said, "Thank you, Nurse Hudson."

"Mr. Stratton, I'm not Hudson. Your face blindness is really severe."

Dashiell pulled me into his arms. "It's been severe since childhood. I only recognize my darling."

My entire body tensed up, rigid.

The murderer of my sweetheart was right before my eyes, and his touch made me feel sick.

I now realized that face blindness was just an excuse he'd used to fool me.

I had pursued him for five years, and he had rejected me ten times, claiming all women looked the same to him.

On his birthday, when I rushed to save him from a sea of flames, the explosion's shockwave ruptured my eardrums, likely causing irreversible deafness in both ears.He married me out of pity. After the wedding, he said, "Darling, yours is the only face I recognize among all the women in the world."

Yet he remembered Ember, the intern, at first glance.

"Darling, let me take you to see our children. Thank goodness I made it in time to save our twins."

"They're absolutely adorable. I'm truly grateful to you, darling."

He hurriedly pushed me towards the neonatal ward to see the two babies in incubators.

Names had already been chosen.

My heart ached. My son's remains were gone. How could he be so heartless?

I felt faint. Dashiell supported me, then suddenly turned pale.

Dashiell was set up for an IV next to me.

Why donate blood to save me? Wouldn't it be better if I died and made way for his Ember? If he wanted to kill, why not kill me instead of my son?

I closed my eyes, processing my pain alone.

Two weeks later, I was discharged and went home.

Dashiell told me to rest and recover, saying he'd take care of the children at the hospital.

He'd come home on time to cook all three meals every day.

For some reason, whenever I had even a slight unloving thought towards him, my heart would ache unbearably. No painkillers seemed to help.

"Darling, lunch is ready. It's your favorite.""Quick, eat up. After this, I need to go to the hospital to see the child."

His eyes revealed anticipation and love, but a flash of urgency and calculation passed through them.

I stared at the steaming food before me, silent.

When did he change? Or was he always this vicious?

A stabbing pain shot through my heart. I looked up at him:

"Honey, will you stay and eat with me?"

A flicker of guilt and nervousness crossed his eyes.

I saw it all. Wasn't it enough that my child was dead, my face disfigured, and my body covered in scars?

He looked at my scarred face across the table, a hint of pity in his eyes.

"Darling, I prepared this special recovery meal for you. It even helps repair your skin. Don't be picky."

He put a small piece of fish in his mouth.

Then he filled a large bowl with food for me.

"You're just like our sweetheart, both needing to be fed by daddy."

As the food approached my mouth, my entire body tensed up.

The more I resisted, the more my heart ached.

I had no choice. I grabbed the spoon and shoved the food into my mouth, bite by bite, tasting nothing but sawdust.

His love for me was full of calculation!

I lay back down on the bed to rest. Dashiell removed his hearing aid and closed the door.The bathroom echoed with the sound of vomiting:

"Ember, honey, you've really gone above and beyond for her. The increased dosage I prepared for her, she ate it all up."

"Darling, go upstairs and get the bag I bought for you. You know I only love you, babe. All the money's for you to spend."

"That little lapdog, she should consider herself lucky to keep a daughter."

"Your incision doesn't hurt, does it? She's only good for that much, with her fair and delicate skin."

The sound of a door closing came from outside. Fighting through the pain in my chest, I dialed a number.