Page 3 of He couldn’t recognize me after my face was disfigured by the fire

Over the next few days, I keenly sensed Thomas testing me step by step. That day when he drove me home, he asked casually as I got out of the car: "Ms. Fields, is your husband very busy?"

My body stiffened, and I mumbled a vague "Mm-hmm," then hastily added: "It's just a short walk, I can make it back on my own." My voice was so soft it was almost like talking to myself.

He didn't respond, just silently rolled up the window. After walking a few steps, I noticed the car behind me still hadn't started. Through that opaque glass, I could feel his gaze fixed intently on me. I lowered my head and quickly texted Rafael, urging him to come down and pick me up.

When Rafael came rushing breathlessly out of the building entrance, I immediately threw myself into his arms, wrapping my hands tightly around his waist with a brilliant, happy smile on my face. We walked into the residential complex together, and I glanced sideways toward the street cornersure enough, Thomas's car had disappeared.

In that moment, I felt like a drowning person who had finally crawled ashore, gasping desperately for air as my whole body went limp with relief.

Ever since Rafael and I started appearing together more frequently, Thomas had noticeably grown much quieter. Until that day when I took Esther to the amusement park and happened to run into Thomas and Samuel at the entrance. The two children immediately grabbed hands and ran off happily to play together.

Thomas stood in front of a small booth, his gaze falling on a cat plushie, when he suddenly turned to ask me: "Ms. Fields, do you like cats?"

I froze, unable to answer. He looked away, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth: "I never really liked cats beforethey annoyed me whenever I saw them. But my wife loves them, so gradually I started to like these little creatures too."

He gestured to show the size, his tone gentle: "You know what? We have a little cat at home that she raised, and it's grown this big now."

My heart sank heavily. I knew what he was referring to. Back in college, I had found a skinny stray cat on a stormy night, foolishly thinking that raising a life together would deepen our bond. But before long, the cat disappeared. I frantically asked him where the cat had gone, and he only said coldly: "I don't like cats. Don't bring that kind of thing home again."

So it wasn't that he didn't like catshe just didn't like me.

Time quickly passed to noon, and Thomas checked his watch, suggesting we take the children out for lunch together. Seeing Esther's hungry expression, I nodded in agreement. The table was laden with dishes, but I couldn't taste anything, just wanting this ordeal to end quickly.

Finally, as we were about to leave, I was preparing to take Esther's hand when suddenly there was a loud "bang" from the kitchen. Upon hearing the explosion, my whole body shuddered, and the next moment I was frozen in place. Thick smoke kept billowing toward us like countless giant hands choking my throat, suffocating me completely.

The crowd erupted in screams, and panicked people surged like a tide, pushing and shoving me to the ground.

"Run! There's a fire!"

I couldn't make out who was speaking. Esther seemed to be crying, but her voice sounded muffled, as if filtered through a thick curtain of water. The scar on my face suddenly tore with searing pain, as if that fire had never been extinguished and was still burning my flesh.

Just as my consciousness was about to collapse, a hand broke through the smoke and gripped my wrist firmly and powerfully. His deep voice rang in my ear:

"Sarah, let's go!"

Within seconds, the alarm was lifted and the fire was brought under control. Thomas supported my shoulder, his voice kept low: "It's okay now. Are you hurt?"

I was stunned, my heartbeat skipping a beat. Because he had called me "Sarah."

I wondered: "Does he recognize me? Or was it just my imagination?"

I didn't dare think deeper and immediately lowered my head, hastily excusing myself under the pretense that the child was frightened. To avoid him, I even took time off voluntarily. [Sorry, Mr. Hamilton, Esther hasn't been feeling well lately. I won't be able to come for lessons the next two days.]

Thomas stared at his phone screen, his brow furrowed. He couldn't understand why he would sometimes have fleeting moments where he mistook this complete stranger for Sarah. Sarah had been gone for five years now. During these five years, he had scoured every street and alley in New York, using all his resources to search for any trace of her, but found nothing. She bore no resemblance to Sarah whatsoevershe couldn't be Sarah. He let out a self-deprecating laugh, crushing that absurd thought, and started the engine to leave. But his hand suddenly froze.

He saw Rafael sneaking out the door, and a few minutes later, a man approached to meet her. When their eyes met, Rafael's face showed undisguised shyness and joy, then took the man's hand. Thomas felt a chill run through his entire body, a cold dread shooting from his feet to the top of his head, followed by a surge of rage.

Kayla's husband was gay? How dare he? As a father, as a husband, he was actually cheating on his family, secretly meeting with another man? His chest heaving violently, Thomas gripped the steering wheel tightly. He made a phone call, speaking through gritted teeth: "I want you to investigate. Dig up everything about Rafael and Kayla's marriage. How did they get married? When? Is their registration even legitimate? I want it all uncovered!"

*****

I didn't see Thomas again until seven days later. He had sent a message saying he wanted to take Samuel out, so lessons would be suspended for a few days. That suited me perfectly. But when I finally pulled myself together and stepped into Thomas's house again, I discovered Samuel wasn't there. In the vast living room, only Thomas sat alone, holding a cup of cold coffee.

"Mr. Hamilton," I forced myself to remain calm, "is Samuel in the music room?"

He slowly looked up, his voice cold as ice: "He's not home."

At his words, I instinctively shuddered. He stood up and walked toward me step by step. His tall figure, backlit, completely enveloped me in shadow. Unease wrapped around my heart like vines, tightening with each moment. I instinctively stepped back twice, forcing a smile: "Since he's not here, I'll head back then."

"Sarah." His voice was heavy, carrying a barely perceptible tremor.

I froze in place, my blood seeming to turn to ice. In the silent living room, only his heavy breathing echoed through the air. After a moment, he suddenly let out a cold laugh, his voice hoarse: "No, I should still call you Kayla, shouldn't I? Did you enjoy playing me for a fool all this time?"