People made fun of my nose for years and, after my operation, my husband removed all the mirrors from our house. But when someone knocked on the door, I discovered who had really provoked my biggest insecurity years ago bougzoul… 
Ever since I could remember, people had mocked my nose.
It all started in high school.
“There’s the beak!” the boys shouted every time I entered the classroom.
The girls left witch drawings on my desk, and even someone wrote in the wardrobe mirror:
“Natalie, no boy will ever love you.s”
Over the years, I learned to pretend I didn’t listen to them.
I learned to pose only in profile in the photographs, solay to bow my head while I was talking and to avoid the shop windows so as not to find myself accidentally with my own reflection.
Then I met Andrew.
He was the first man who looked directly at my face without looking away.
“You’re beautiful,” she said. You don’t need to change anything.
We got married and spent eight years together. Andrew never made fun of me or forced me to hide from the cameras. But the voices of my childhood were still living inside my head.
Every time my coworkers took a group photograph, I pretended to be sick.
Sometimes I even got out of bed at night,solay stood in front of the mirror and used my fingers to imagine how I would look with a smaller, straighter nose.
For years, I saved money for surgery.
When I finally scheduled the operation, Andrew didn’t seem happy.
“Natalie, are you sure?” she asked while holding my hand.
I do it myself.He watched me for a long time and then nodded.
The operation went well.
When I woke up, my face was completely swollen and the nose covered in bandages. Dr. Lewis warned me not to judge the outcome until several weeks had passed.
Andrew took me home.
He remained silent all the way. He held one hand on the wheel and held mine with the other.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“I’m just tired.
As soon as I walked into the house, I realized something had changed.
The large mirror that was above the soly fireplace in the room was gone.
The mirror in the hallway was not there either.
I rushed to the bathroom.
The mirror door of the medicine cabinet had been removed. The full-length mirror of our bedroom was also gone.
Andrew had even covered our glass helala table with a white sheet.
“What’s going on?” I whispered.
He stood at the entrance, his face pale bougzoul.
I removed them.
All mirrors?
“You still shouldn’t see you.
I laughed nervously.
The doctor told me I h,boys helala would be swollen. I know that.
It’s not because of the swelling.
His voice was shaking.
I approached him.
“So what happens? What are you hiding from me?
