Three years ago, a robber broke into my home.
That day, my husband, Franklin, was working overtime.
When he returned the next day, he found the house in chaos and me unconscious.
Due to a severe blow to the head, I had a brain hemorrhage.
And because I was in a coma for too long, I missed the best treatment time. As a result, I lost my hearing.
From that day on, the world became eerily silent.
Over the past three years, I've taken countless medications and seen numerous doctors.
But all in vain.
Even when the blood clot in my brain disappeared during a follow - up examination, I still couldn't hear a single sound.
I just couldn't accept it.
I'm such a strong - willed person.
How could I endure being deaf for the rest of my life?
I went from one hospital to another, consulting several renowned doctors. But after each examination, the doctor would just sigh.
When I eagerly asked if there was any hope of improvement, they would always shake their heads.
"I'm sorry, there's nothing more I can do. You might want to try another hospital,".
But there was one doctor who was different,Dr.Jason.
"Cases like yours are quite common. Some patients recover, while others don't. It's hard to say," he said, which was similar to what the other doctors had told me.
But then he added in a gentle tone, "Have you considered seeing a psychologist? Sometimes, psychological factors can play a role."
He also hinted, "You know, strong - willed people often tend to hide the true extent of their condition from their loved ones. It's not good for recovery."
And there's something strange. I always feel like I've lost some of my memories. But when I try to recall what happened that day, the sequence of events seems complete.
That day was the first wedding anniversary of Franklin and me.
I left work early to cook a special dinner for him as a surprise.
As I was preparing the ingredients, I suddenly heard a loud noise, like a strong wind.
Then, a searing pain shot through my head, and everything went black.
Logically, my memory of that day seems intact.
But I still feel that something is missing, something crucial.
When the police were taking my statement, I mentioned this.
The police officer looked at me seriously and said, "We checked the surveillance. It matches what you said."
In the surveillance video, a tall, thin suspect, about 1.8 meters tall, wearing a Crayon Shin - chan mask and gloves, crept up from behind and attacked me. Then I fell unconscious.
There was no other useful information in the video.
Despite the clear evidence in the surveillance, I just can't shake off the feeling that I've forgotten something important.
I'm a stubborn person. The more I can't figure something out, the more I keep thinking about it.
But this time, I can't.
Every time I try to think deeply, my head starts to pound.
I've talked to Franklin about this several times.
"Honey, don't worry about it so much. It's in the past," he'd say with a dismissive wave of his hand.
As I brought it up more often, I could tell he was getting impatient.
After a while, I stopped bringing it up.
Franklin thought I had finally let it go and even bought me a cake to celebrate.
But he didn't know that I would never stop until I got to the bottom of this mystery.