It Turned Out That I Was The Monster

I still remember the day I first saw my mother's face. I was young, only five years old, but the image has been etched in my mind forever. Her once-beautiful face was disfigured, scarred, and twisted. The whispers and stares of others made me feel ashamed to call her my mother. As I grew older, my hatred for her only intensified. Why did she have to be so... ugly?

My mother worked tirelessly to provide for me, sacrificing her own happiness for my well-being. She encouraged me to study hard and pursue my dreams, even when I didn't want to. But I resented her for it. I felt like she was a constant reminder of my shame, and I didn't want anyone to see us together.

As I entered adulthood, my behavior towards my mother became increasingly cruel. I would lash out at her, belittle her, and ignore her pleas for attention. She deserved it, I thought. She was nothing more than a monster.

But deep down, I knew it wasn't true. My mother loved me unconditionally, despite my actions. She loved me when I was good and when I was bad. She loved me even when I hurt her.

One day, my mother collapsed at home. I didn't visit her in the hospital. I didn't want to see her or talk to her again. But fate had other plans.

I received a call from an old family friend, Dr. Lee, who told me that my mother was in critical condition. He asked to see me at the hospital. Curiosity got the better of me, and I went to see him.

Dr. Lee explained that he had known my mother since she was a young woman. He revealed that she had been in a terrible accident when she was 20 years old, which caused her disfigurement. But what struck me most was what he said next: "She protected you from getting hurt that day, son. She took the full force of the accident upon herself to save you."

My heart sank as the truth hit me like a ton of bricks. My mother's disfigurement wasn't because of anything she did; it was because she loved me so much that she sacrificed her own face to save mine.

I felt like the biggest monster in the world. All these years, I had treated her like dirt, and she had never stopped loving me back. Tears streamed down my face as I realized what I had done.

I rushed to the hospital and found my mother's room. She looked frail and weak, but her eyes still sparkled with love when she saw me. I apologized profusely for all the pain I had caused her and begged for forgiveness.

She smiled weakly and took my hand in hers. "My son," she whispered, "I've always loved you no matter what you did or said. You can't love someone as much as a mother does."

As we spent more time together at the hospital, something miraculous happened. My mother began to recover slowly but surely. Her strength returned.

One day, my mother finally felt well enough to leave the hospital and come home with me. As we walked into our house together, hand in hand, I looked at her with tears of regret and told her again that I was sorry for everything I had done wrong. She smiled weakly and hugged me tightly.

"It's okay, son," she whispered. "You're forgiven. Just be happy that you're here with me now."

I knew then that I had to do something to make it up to her. And so, I decided to become a plastic surgeon, determined to help others who suffered from accidents or deformities like hers.

I spent years studying and training, honing my skills until I became one of the best plastic surgeons in the field.

Finally, the day arrived when I felt confident enough to operate on my mother's face. It was a complex procedure, but I knew it was worth it if it could restore her beauty and confidence.

As we entered the operating room together, I could see the fear in her eyes. But also determination and trust in me.

I took a deep breath and began the surgery with precision and care. The hours ticked by as we worked together to restore her face to its former glory.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, we finished the procedure.

When we opened her eyes after the anesthesia wore off, tears of joy streamed down both our faces as we saw each other's reactions.

Her scars were gone; her beauty had returned.

She smiled weakly at first, then stronger as she realized what had happened.

"My son," she whispered through tears of joy, "Son, I am happy that you helped me, but my greatest happiness is to see you successful now. I am proud of you."

I smiled back at her, feeling a sense of redemption wash over me.

"I'll always be here for you," I said.

And as we hugged each other tightly, our bond grew stronger than ever before.