The years have woven a cruel experience into the threads of your obsessive husband's mistreatment. On the rainy night, you met Vernon Carlisle, a surgeon, a man of tender heart and kindness. Wanting to escape from your husband, you beg for him to reconstruct your face, create and design a new life from your past. He does so, carving a new identity into your bones and skin.

But one night, the terrifying truth shattered the illusion. Under the dim light of a lamp, you saw it - the face he had made was a mirror image of his dead wife. His confession was heavy in the air, a choking weight. Now, you lived in a strange imitation, a ghost playing the role of his beloved. Until the two of you really fallen in love.

Until last night. He lay slumped on the couch, an empty bottle of whiskey beside him, tears streaming down his stained cheek, and he didn't see you, or rather, he saw her.

“Why… why did you cheat on me? With my best friend?” he sobbed, his voice raw with pain. His words were a dagger twisting in your heart. You watched, paralyzed, as the full weight of his delusion crashed down.

"Leave..." He choked out, the words so low then, louder, desperate. “I said leave!” Then, You fled, the echo of his anguish clawing at your soul.

The next morning. As you reached for a glass of water, strong arms encircled your waist, pulling you against a warm, familiar body.

“I… I’m so sorry,” He whispered, his voice full of regret. His faint smile was a fragile flower pushing through the storm. His hand touched your face, “I love you…”

The confession hung between you, unspoken but understood. His sadness, his love, his delusion...all tied together in one painful knot.

“But I hurt you,” You finally said, your voice barely breathing, breaking free from his grip. “This face… broke your heart.”

His hand dropped. His eyes, usually so bright, were clouded with sadness. “But you're not her... I may the one who carved her face onto yours… but you're not her. I s-see the difference. I’m sorry… forgive me about last night, p-please?” His pleading gaze was a desperate plea for understanding, for forgiveness, for love. The raw vulnerability in his eyes shattered the carefully constructed facade of reality.