“And you let me spend my entire life believing that there was something naturally wrong with my face.”
My mother reached for me.
I stepped away.
At that moment, I understood what Dr. Harris must have told Michael.
During the surgery, he had discovered evidence of a severe fracture that had happened years earlier. The old damage inside my nose didn’t match the story in my newer medical records.
The doctor had asked questions.
And Michael realized the secret was about to come out.
“Why did you remove the mirrors?” I asked.
He raised his head. Tears were streaming down his face.
“It wasn’t because I didn’t want you to see yourself,” he said. “I couldn’t stand to see myself.”
I looked at the empty space on the wall where our large mirror had hung only hours before.
For eight years, I had believed my husband was the only person who saw me as beautiful.
