Masuk~MiaThe moment we left the school, we went straight to the hospital to meet the doctor. My heart wouldn’t calm down. I was finally going to see my new face—see who this Mia had become.The new Mia.When we arrived at the hospital, we didn’t waste a single second before meeting Doctor Rachael.“Doc, we’re here,” I said, barely able to hide my excitement. “Can we proceed now?”Doctor Rachael looked at me and smiled, warm and reassuring.“If you’re ready,” she said, “then I’m ready.”I nodded immediately, signaling that there was no doubt about it. I had never been more ready for anything in my life.The moment we stepped into the ward, I could feel her excitement too. She was genuinely happy—happy to finally help me untie this, to bring everything to an end.As Doctor Rachael carefully rolled the bandages off my face, a new sensation washed over me. Cool air brushed against my skin.Fresh air.Fresh Mia.When she was done, Doctor Rachael stepped back slightly and spoke gently, as thoug
Seeing Troy that day shocked me deeply.The surprise on his face told me he hadn’t expected to see us either. For a brief moment, we simply stared at each other, as if trying to confirm we were both real.Then, right there, Troy finally told me the truth.He explained that on my very first day at school, after I reported to him that Miss Precious hated me and constantly scolded me because of my face, he had taken it seriously. But instead of stepping in to stop it, he chose a different path. He said that despite the humiliation, I had only grown more enlightened and focused. Because of that—and because I intended to complete a five-year course in just two years—he decided to push me even harder.So, he paid Miss Precious.He paid her to become stricter with me. To act more hateful. To test my limits.As he finished speaking, my chest tightened. The anger I once felt slowly dissolved into disbelief. Miss Precious, who stood nearby with her hands tightly clasped, lowered her head and ap
It had been three days since my last session with Mrs. Shelton.Today marked the second day since I underwent facial cosmetic surgery.Tears slid down the sides of my eyes as I tried to move my head, but my body refused to respond. Every attempt ended in pain and stiffness. I was trapped.I was on life support.A breathing machine rose and fell beside me, forcing air into my lungs. Metal bars and padded restraints held my posture in place, especially my face, keeping it perfectly still. I could feel the weight of it all, pressing down on me, reminding me how fragile I had become.I wanted to see my new face.I wanted it more than anything.But the doctor’s words echoed clearly in my mind, firm and unforgiving.“You will be on life support for a month,” she had said calmly. “But the internal bleeding will not completely stop until approximately thirty months—that is two and a half years. Because of this, you cannot see your face.”I remembered how she paused before continuing, her tone
The question Troy asked was heavy.Too heavy.It sat in my chest long after he said it, pressing down on me in ways I wasn’t ready to confront.I wanted to answer him honestly. I wanted to give him the response that lived in my heart.But I knew that if I did, I would sound ungrateful—like I was rejecting everything he had ever offered me. And that wasn’t true.So the question remained.What do I want?I needed an answer. Not a shallow one. Not something I could say just to fill the silence. I needed something luxurious. Something prestigious. Something rooted deeply in fame and influence.Because I didn’t just want to return—I wanted my return to be feared.I wanted something powerful enough to shake their businesses, something bold enough to stand beside their empires and challenge them. I wanted to be the competition they couldn’t ignore. The threat they couldn’t dismiss.When I started connecting the dots, one truth became impossible to deny:what I wanted was inseparably tied to
The question Troy asked was heavy.Too heavy.It sat in my chest long after he said it, pressing down on me in ways I wasn’t ready to confront.I wanted to answer him honestly. I wanted to give him the response that lived in my heart.But I knew that if I did, I would sound ungrateful—like I was rejecting everything he had ever offered me. And that wasn’t true.So the question remained.What do I want?I needed an answer. Not a shallow one. Not something I could say just to fill the silence. I needed something luxurious. Something prestigious. Something rooted deeply in fame and influence.Because I didn’t just want to return—I wanted my return to be feared.I wanted something powerful enough to shake their businesses, something bold enough to stand beside their empires and challenge them. I wanted to be the competition they couldn’t ignore. The threat they couldn’t dismiss.When I started connecting the dots, one truth became impossible to deny:what I wanted was inseparably tied to
~MiaI rubbed my hand through my hair as I glared at Troy, disbelief tightening my chest. I could not believe he had been listening to my conversation with the therapist.He had heard everything. That was obviously the reason this question had even come up.I kept staring at him, suspicion written all over my face. Why would he eavesdrop in the first place?Troy noticed my look instantly. His expression shifted, the tension easing from his face as he spoke in a calm voice.“I understand what you must be thinking,” he said. “You probably believe I had no right to listen to your discussion with the therapist.”He paused, then continued, his tone steady.“But you should know that I was forced to do so. My instincts would not let me stay away. Something kept biting at me. I needed to see, or at least hear, what was going on in there. And that was when I overheard your conversation with the therapist.”I rolled my eyes, unsure of what to say. Before I could respond, Troy spoke again.“I kn







