My Surgeon Husband Rebuilt My Face To Match His First Love’s Chapter 07
My Rose
When I am discharged, Graham comes to pick me up.
He drives with both hands on the wheel and asks gently, “Elena, today is the anniversary of the day we started dating. Do you want to celebrate?”
Traffic moves slowly outside the window. I look at his reflection in the glass for a long time.
These past few days, he has been in a good mood. He and Violet have finally said everything they kept buried for years.
In his heart, they are probably already back to the way they used to be.
“Elena?” he asks again, patient as ever.
I press down the sickness rising in my chest and say, “Okay.”
That night, Graham takes me to a beautiful restaurant.
The lighting is soft. The table is set with candles. Across from me, Graham looks gentle and devoted, the way he always does when he wants me to believe I am the only woman he sees.
That is his gift.
When he looks at you like that, he can make you think you are the most precious person in his life.
He cuts my steak for me and places the plate in front of me.
Before I can touch my fork, the sharp sound of heels comes toward our table.
Violet storms over, eyes red, staring at Graham like he has betrayed her.
“Graham, I called you so many times. Why didn’t you answer?” Her voice trembles as she looks from him to me. “I was so worried about you, but you’re here with…”
A flash of panic crosses Graham’s eyes.
He turns to me quickly. “Elena, I need to handle something. Give me three minutes.”
Then he grabs Violet’s arm and pulls her away.
From where I sit, I cannot hear what they say. I do not care enough to try.
I only see Violet crying as she shakes off Graham’s hand and runs out of the restaurant.
Graham looks anxious. For a moment, he almost goes after her.
Then he remembers I am sitting there and forces himself to look calm.
I smile.
“Aren’t you going to chase her?” I ask. “She looks pretty upset.”
He stares at me for a few seconds.
“No,” he says at last. “She’s an adult. She’ll calm down.”
I say nothing and keep eating.
Graham checks his phone again and again through the rest of the meal. His anxiety is so obvious that it almost becomes funny.
The harder he tries to hide it, the worse it looks.
After dinner, he calls a car for me. His throat moves as he swallows, and his voice sounds unnatural when he speaks.
“Elena, something urgent came up at work. I need to go handle it. Go home and sleep early. Don’t wait for me.”
I smile and get into the car.
Through the rearview mirror, I watch Graham hurry to his own car and drive away.
When I get home, the house is quiet.
I walk straight to Graham’s study.
I have never gone inside before. The laptop on the desk is the one he uses most often, and of course, it is locked.
I try his birthday.
Wrong.
Violet’s birthday.
Wrong.
Mine.
Still wrong.
I bite my nails and look around the room.
Then I notice the corner of a photo sticking out from a drawer.
It is a picture of Graham and Violet at an airport. They are holding each other tightly, the kind of embrace people give when they are afraid to let go. In the lower right corner, a date has been written lightly in pencil.
The day they separated.
I type the date into the laptop.
The screen unlocks.
Strangely, I feel almost nothing.
In a hidden corner of the computer, I find a folder named “my rose.”
I open it.
Then I sit there and read everything.
Inside are Graham’s records, his notes, his plans. From the day he met me, he has been quietly shaping every part of this.
“You don’t know how much she looks like Violet. Her voice, the way she speaks, even the way she looks from behind, all of it is so much like her.”
“I want to turn her into my Violet.”
The blade finally comes down.
“I succeeded. When I saw her face, I almost cried. My Violet came back to me.”
“She is my greatest and most perfect work of art.”
I read until my eyes burn.
Then I copy everything.
Graham does not come home that night.
The next day, when his call comes in, I am on my way to an attorney’s office.
His voice on the phone sounds exhausted.
“I can’t find her,” he says. “I’ve looked everywhere, but I can’t find her.”
I am about to answer.
Before I can speak, a hand reaches out from the corner of an alley and clamps over my mouth and nose.
My phone slips from my hand.
It hits the ground with a sharp crack.
Then everything goes dark.