I thought my husband and I would be together forever, but when the fire happened, I changed physically and he changed his mind. My husband ended up leaving me because of the way I looked, but I ended up having the last laugh.
It was a cool autumn evening when the fire started. I still remember the pungent smell of wood smoke wafting through the air and mingling with the distant laughter of children playing outside before the fire caught up with me and changed my life forever.
The house we were renting had an old, unreliable cooker. I told Evan that we should check it out, but like so many other times, he brushed off my concerns. That’s what he always did: he dismissed my concerns as if they were nothing.
But I guess that’s what happens when you’re married to someone who’s studying to be a doctor. Evan always thought he knew best. That night, eight years ago, I lit a few candles in the living room.
The electricity was on and off, and I wanted it to be cosy and warm, like home. The wind was rattling the windows, but I didn’t pay much attention to it. I had a mug of tea in my hands and I was reading a book, immersed in another world.
Then I smelled something: something acrid, burning. Before I knew it, the fire from the cooker was spreading rapidly, climbing the walls like a living thing, devouring everything in its path! I jumped to my feet, knocking over the candles, making the flames even more intense!
My heart was pounding in my chest and I was in a panic! I ran to the kitchen and grabbed the fire extinguisher, but it was too late! The fire had engulfed half of the living room! I shouted to Evan, who was upstairs studying!
His footsteps rumbled up the stairs. When he saw the fire, his eyes widened and for the first time I saw real fear on his face! He was no longer the cold, collected medical student, but just a man terrified that he could lose everything.
‘Go away!’ – he shouted, but I froze in place, my hands shaking as I fiddled with the fire extinguisher.
I didn’t even notice it happen as a beam from the ceiling collapsed down, pinning me to the ground. The heat was unbearable and I could feel my face blistering from the intensity of the flames!
My husband pulled me out just in time, dragged me across the floor and carried me out into the yard. I was in shock and could barely realise what had just happened. I could hear the distant howling of sirens, but all I could focus on was the pain, an excruciating, burning pain coursing through my body.
I was rushed to the hospital, but I barely remember getting there. The next few days passed in a haze of surgeries and painkillers. When I finally woke up, I was wrapped in bandages, my entire face covered. Evan was sitting next to me, his face pale and his hands shaking as he held mine.
He looked up at me and I could see the fear in his eyes.
‘I…I don’t know how…,’ he stammered, looking horrified as he watched the doctors remove my bandages to check on my healing.
I wanted to comfort him, to tell him everything would be okay, but I didn’t have the strength.
In the hospital room, I could feel the distance between us growing, like a chasm that neither of us knew how to bridge. When I was eventually discharged, he hired a carer to look after me in our house while the renovations were being done.
When I arrived, Evan was long gone: I had survived the fire, but I had severe burns on my face, arms, chest and shoulders. Despite the tension between us, I was glad he was still around and hoped we would work together on my recovery.
But I didn’t expect what he did next.
The next day, Evan woke up early, packed up all of his things, and sent me a short text that read, ‘I can’t be with someone like this.’
Evan, the man I loved, the man I married, couldn’t accept what had happened to me. He couldn’t bear to look at me, to be with me now that I was all scarred. At first I thought his rejection would be the end of me, but I surprisingly managed to pull myself together.
I followed the doctor’s recommendations for a few weeks, underwent multiple surgeries, each more painful than the last. I even went through a course of therapy. It was difficult to recover from both the physical and emotional wounds.
The doctors did everything they could to save my face, but I knew I would never look the same again. The woman I saw in the mirror was a stranger I didn’t recognise.
Despite physical and emotional therapy, nothing could prepare me for the day when I would have to return to a world where everyone would see the scars. A world where people would look at me with pity or disgust.
I had to learn how to be strong again and rebuild my life without Evan.
That’s when I met Jim.
He wasn’t like Evan. Jim was calm, poised, and kind, and it felt genuine, not forced. We met at a support group for burn survivors, and although I was hesitant at first, we bonded over my experience and his knowledge.