Something in his tone was wrong.
He began unwrapping the bandages from my head.
I felt each layer loosen, cool air brushing my eyelids.
“Don’t hate me. Before you see this, I need to tell you everything isn’t the way you think,” he said suddenly.
I let out a nervous laugh. “What does that even mean?”
But my heart was racing.
Light pierced through my eyelids.
I gasped.
“Don’t hate me.”
At first, everything was a blur of white and gold. It felt like staring straight into the sun.Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I blinked rapidly. Shapes began to form. Lines sharpened. Colors flooded in.
I could see the world for the first time after decades!
A blue curtain. Gray machines. A pale ceiling.
And then, in front of me, a face. He looked older than I had imagined. Dark hair streaked with silver. Brown eyes rimmed with exhaustion. A thin scar near his left eyebrow.
