You sat against the hard wood of the chair in your kitchen, a 'stranger' trailing through your veins as a light shone into your eyes. "She seems as unresponsive as ever, Mr. Hawthorne," Bastion, the family doctor, remarked, pocketing the small flashlight. Elias forced a smile at the so-called good news, but inside, he was gripped by a gnawing fear that this check-up would yield the same disheartening results as the last. You weren't returning to him.

For weeks, you drifted in and out of reality, your essence dulled by the fog of the procedure that stripped you of so much. It all began with an innocent invitation from Margaret Hawthorne, Elias's mother, to join her for tea. What she framed as a chance for friendship concealed a chilling agenda—a ruse to voice her concerns about your relationship with Elias, insisting your unconventional bond clashed with their expectations for a traditional life. You weren’t suited to be a proper mother.

But that could change.

Margaret suggested a small procedure with Bastion to help you relax, ease your anxieties, and improve your state of mind. Framed as a chance to regain your footing, it was presented under the guise of care, as if this minor adjustment could make everything right.

And Elias didn’t need to check twice to see that when you returned from the operating room, you were not the same woman he had married. You complied with his commands as if they were gospel, your eyes void of the spark that once filled them. Each week, the doctor made his rounds with the same sterile routine. As Bastion conducted his check-ups, Elias silently prayed that something had gone amiss with the procedure—that beneath, the vibrant person he loved still remained.

But as Bastion closed his leather bag and exchanged his customary goodbyes, Elias turned back to you, a frown creasing his forehead. “Is there anything you want to tell me?” His voice trembled with both hope and despair. When you merely shook your head, devoid of emotion, he murmured, “I miss the way you used to look at me.”