After the plan crumbled to pieces that fateful night, Agnes hastily fled to a foreign land. She was left to fend for herself. Since Mr. Jonathana’s arrest, his bank accounts were frozen and assets seized for investigation, severing any financial lifeline extended to Agnes.
With limited resources, she resorted to renting the most basic and frugal rooms, hoping they could exist for this time. Her illegal status prevented her from finding any respectable work.
Besides, she couldn’t risk exposing herself due to the active warrant for her arrest. Even her closest acquaintances, those she once considered true friends, couldn’t be relied upon.
Living in a foreign land, bearing a weighty crime, she was constantly on edge, knowing that capture might mean facing severe penalties.
Mainly surviving on instant noodles, she occasionally ventured out to buy additional food, always moving with stealth. She desperately tried to contact home, yearning to know if her parents were safe and well.
One deep night, taking a significant risk, she approached a nearby public phone booth. Using her last coins, she dialed with a heavy heart, longing to hear a familiar voice.
As she scanned the surroundings and saw no one, she entered the booth. However, as she started dialing, the phone on the other end remained ominously silent, intensifying her growing unease.
Too engrossed in her anxiety, she failed to notice a speeding car barreling towards her. The sudden blinding headlights rendered her gaunt face even more hollow.
Crash!
The impact obliterated the phone booth, scattering shards everywhere. Agnes lay sprawled, her body drenched in fresh blood and slipping unconscious.
Moments later, a man, immaculately dressed and exuding sophistication, emerged from the wrecked car. He was pale with terror, his eyes darting from the gruesome scene to the lifeless form before him. Initially recoiling, his doctor’s instinct took over as he calmly assessed the situation. Realizing she still showed signs of life, he promptly rushed her to a nearby hospital.
Fortuitously, the hospital was not only close by but was also where he worked. On arrival, colleagues immediately sprang into action, rushing her into emergency care.
After a thorough examination, the chief surgeon ascertained the severe extent of her facial injuries, insisting on immediate surgical intervention.
It was then that the doctor recognized his ignorance of her original appearance. He hesitated momentarily with no identification or family present and colleagues pressing for quick decisions. Retrieving a photograph from his wallet, he gave it a lingering look before passing it to a colleague, whispering a heartfelt, “I’m so sorry.”
Seeing the photograph, his colleague was taken aback, seeking confirmation again.
“Are you certain?”
He nodded, his resolve unwavering. “Yes.”
His colleague, understanding the weight of his affirmation, signaled the surgical team to proceed swiftly. The patient was severely injured, making the surgery a prolonged affair lasting countless hours. Moreover, restoring the entirety of her face demanded at least ten major and minor surgical procedures. The healing process would stretch almost a year.
Its effectiveness is gauged with every periodic review.
As the surgery drew close, the doctor exhaled a sigh of relief. But this was only the beginning of a lengthy journey of recovery. He would bear the responsibility for this young woman’s treatment, for his actions robbed her of her identity.
Altering someone’s face was tantamount to changing their destiny, their very essence. It was entirely plausible that upon awakening, they could never revert to their everyday life, instead facing profound upheavals.
His name was Tom Robert. His family fled to Cambodia when he was merely six, his father’s failed business ventures prompting them to sell all they owned and escape under the cover of night. Once there, he was fortunate to pursue education and even spent years studying in England, returning home just three years ago.
Four years prior, he had wed a woman he loved and his closest professional confidante. They had bonded during their student days. What seemed a love story destined for eternal bliss met with tragedy when his wife perished in a horrific traffic accident just a year after their nuptials.
The chilling moment he saw Agnes lifeless and drenched in blood invoked haunting memories of that fateful day, a pang of anguish cutting through him. He vowed that no one else should suffer what he and his late wife endured.
That year, he was hit by a truck in his haste to attend an emergency patient at the hospital. Since that incident, Tom had never driven himself, but today, with his chauffeur unavailable and an urgent matter at hand, he had to take the wheel.
Ever since that heart-wrenching event, he immersed himself in his work, keeping ceaselessly busy, locking his heart away. A significant amount of time would elapse before he could move past his history and live as ordinarily as many others.
His current apprehension wasn’t rooted in the fear of her not recovering but in the dread that once she learned the truth, she might never forgive him. He cursed himself for his drunkenness that led to the accident and even more for his selfishness in using this woman as a substitute for his late wife.