Today, upon removing the bandage, Tom discerned an infected incision on Agnes’s delicate face, compelling him to urgently decide on a surgical intervention to avert a dire scenario.
“Doctor, may I borrow a mirror? I yearn to glimpse the alterations on my visage,” Agnes pleaded, her voice filled with trepidation, awaiting the physician to bring forth a reflection.
With a gesture, Tom signaled everyone to depart and then gently settled next to Agnes, saying, “You’re not yet in a condition to gaze upon yourself, dear. Your hand aches, limiting your movements and grasp.”
“I want to use the mirror, please,” she insisted.
But the doctor adamantly declined, revealing, “A deep laceration lies upon your eyelid. It isn’t advisable to open your eyes just yet; we must employ sophisticated diagnostic methods to ascertain the extent of the injury.”
Agnes, overwhelmed, turned towards Tom, her voice faint, “You don’t mean to suggest… I’ll be blind?”
“No, it’s not that; merely a thorough check. Rest your anxieties.”
“I wish to be transferred to a more modern hospital,” she countered.
The doctor, visibly irritated, retorted sternly, “You doubt my capabilities? Without personal identification, family, or funds, ponder who else would welcome your treatment.”
Silence enveloped Agnes before she burst into torrential tears, wetting her face. The thin bandages were ill-equipped to absorb the seeped droplets, potentially aggravating the wound.
Tom, agitated, implored, “Stop resisting our help! We’re doing everything for your healing. Wetting those wounds can worsen things. I understand your plight; many have endured and triumphed over similar circumstances. You’re young, and I believe in medical advances to restore your former life.”
“You know nothing!” she snapped back. “Do you know my past, my joys or sorrows?”
Tom paused, perhaps realizing he’d overstepped, perhaps having touched a raw nerve without knowing her entire story. He softened his tone, “My apologies for raising my voice. Whatever befalls, face it bravely. That’s the finest way forward. Don’t fret. We’re all here, committed to assisting you.”
“You don’t understand. I truly feel I’ve lost everything,” she whispered, grief etched on her face.
Witnessing Agnes’s profound anguish reminded Tom of his past torment – the sleepless nights following an earlier tragedy, forever haunted by a beloved’s image and melodic voice.
Tom internally grappled with a haunting thought: facing a woman resembling his lost love but bearing an alien soul. Acknowledging his inability to shake off the past, he was determined to salvage the situation at any cost.
The healing journey was long and arduous, dotted with numerous surgeries, both major and minor, all embarked upon with the intent of restoring Kim Qúy’s former self. She bore the weight of indescribable pain, but fortune smiled on her in the form of Tom’s unwavering presence. He was always there, offering care and comfort during her most vulnerable moments.
Tonight, released from his usual night shifts, Tom returned home early. Yet, sleep eluded him. He found himself alone, gravitating towards his computer, reminiscing as he browsed through old photographs.
After his wife’s departure from this world, these pictures had been tucked away, hidden from sight, as a mere glance would tear open old wounds. It had been three years, and he now revisited them, feeling a tumult of emotions.
Tomorrow would mark a milestone for Agnes. The bandages that concealed her face for a past year of treatment would finally be removed, revealing the results of their relentless efforts. Tom imagined that she, too, might be kept awake by anticipation. But deep down, he sensed that she would be profoundly shocked upon confronting the truth.
Outside, rain began its gentle descent, growing in intensity.
Yet even its deluge paled compared to Tom’s weighty storm of emotions. He leaned back in his chair, eyes tightly shut, hoping that all would be well and that Agnes would come to understand his deepest intentions.
Come morning, Tom arrived at the hospital. As he entered his office, a flustered junior rushed to him, her words tumbling out as she pointed frantically toward Agnes’s room.
“Doctor, doctor, something’s wrong. She, she…”
Without waiting for a full explanation, Tom hurriedly returned to the room. But he froze, just at the threshold. She stood, gazing into a mirror, her fingers clawing at her reflection – a face eerily reminiscent of his deceased wife. From her mouth to her nose to the very curve of her lips, it was as though she had been molded from the same cast.
A close colleague gently touched his shoulder in silent sympathy before walking away. Tom could scarcely believe that he was again faced with a visage that had always lingered in the recesses of his heart.
Agnes, frantic, sought answers from everyone present. “Why have you done this to me? Wasn’t I promised healing? How could this happen?”
Tom stepped forward, clasping her self-destructive hands, and enveloped her in a comforting embrace, allowing her to feel a hint of warmth and understanding.
“Your face suffered grievous injuries from the accident. We had no choice but to perform surgery to save you. I deeply regret not consulting you beforehand, but we had no other option.”
“Then whose face do I bear now?”
A heavy silence filled the room. One by one, the staff exited until only Tom and Agnes remained. Once her anguish had somewhat subsided, Tom softly said, “It belonged to someone very dear to me, someone who is no longer with us.”
The sorrow in his voice and the remorse in his eyes allowed Agnes to piece together the puzzle. She gradually composed herself and spoke, “How am I to live with this face now? Must I assume a new identity?”
“Do you not wish for that?”
It was then that realization dawned on Agnes. As a fugitive in her homeland, this change in appearance might be a blessing in disguise. Unrecognizable, she could lead an everyday life and even return home without being detected.