ManyWriters

My husband is a perfectionist. To cater to his aesthetic preferences, I've undergone plastic surgery, breast augmentation, and leg lengthening surgery.
By the time my husband complained about my lack of a high forehead, I had already had 19 plastic surgeries.
For my 20th plastic surgery, I went in for forehead augmentation.
After the surgery, I overheard his conversation with the doctor.
"CEO, Miss Winters has already had 20 surgeries. Every part of her body has been altered. Any more surgeries could be life-threatening!"
"But she still doesn't compare to Melody. Natural beauty is still the best."
My husband's cold words extinguished my romantic fantasies.
It turns out it wasn't that I wasn't beautiful enough, but that I didn't look like his true love.
For my 21st surgery, I had all the implants removed.
I changed my name and started my life over.

My Husband Made Me Get Plastic Surgery 19 Times

Dashiell thought I was just acting up like before. His expression relaxed considerably as he took the documents from my hand with a grin.


"Buying a house? Or a designer bag? I knew you were all bark and no bite. It's always been like this - a little shopping spree and you'd cool off!"


Dashiell opened the agreement with a beaming smile, then froze.


Dashiell's tone plummeted, the veins in his neck bulging.


"Aria, there's a time and place for your dramatics. This is a matter of life and death. I don't have time for your games!"


I turned my head away, refusing to look at him, and simply repeated:


"I don't want the property, I don't want the house. I just want to leave you."


Dashiell still thought I was throwing a tantrum. After all, in our previous fights, I'd always threatened divorce.


But this time it's different. I've really decided to leave you, Dashiell.


Dashiell held the divorce papers, reading them over and over, yet hesitating to sign. Looking at my signature already there, he felt an unprecedented panic.


As if the moment he signed, I would never come back.


"Mr.Miss Harrington, Melody's condition isn't good!"


Another nurse burst in, breathless and panicked.


"We need blood immediately, or it'll be too late!"


Dashiell listened, frowning. He glanced up at me, seemingly wanting to say something.


"Are you done with your tantrum? If so, go donate blood."


He tossed the divorce papers onto the table. I reached out, took one copy, and carefully folded it away.


The young nurse approached to sterilize the equipment. The cold needle quickly pierced my vein.


Dashiell turned his head away, not looking at me, but his tone was ice-cold.


"Draw 800 milliliters. If that's not enough, make it 1000!"


Doctor Carlisle was so shocked she nearly fell off her chair. I quickly interrupted her.


"Dashiell, when I was twenty, you donated 1000 milliliters of blood for me. Do you remember?"


He seemed surprised I'd bring that up, turning his head with an awkward expression.


Not waiting for his response, I continued.


"But I'll die if I donate 1000 milliliters of blood. Do you still want me to donate?"I don't see Dashiell coming back. His face suddenly darkened, and he flew into a rage.


"We've already signed the divorce papers. Stop making a fuss! I've even donated a quart of blood before. How could that possibly kill me?"


He seemed oblivious to my gradually paling face as he continued.


"Every day it's either plastic surgery or some new drama with you. Let me tell you something - you could get a hundred procedures and still not measure up to Melody. You can't compare to her natural beauty, inside or out!"


His eyes held a complex emotion, but I didn't have time to analyze it. Dashiell had already stormed out, slamming the door behind him.


Chapter 4