"Eds used to love having a lively home, always playing music, but for the past two weeks, the speakers have gathered dust. She couldn’t handle spicy food, mixing chili sauce with everything. And most importantly, Eds always cared deeply about her job at the piano store. Yet, you suddenly resigned three days ago and interviewed for a lab assistant position."
"Eds once said she didn't like doing experiments. She preferred music, photography, and romantic things—not boring research."
"You’re not Eds, so who are you?"
Hector’s eyes bore into me, fierce and searching, as if he wanted to see my soul through my face. I took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "Hector, I am Eds!"
I didn’t know how to explain the past two years to him. I could feel that I was her, but at the same time, I wasn’t her.
Eventually, Hector took me to see a doctor. He left no stone unturned, visiting specialists in Neurology, Psychiatry, and Psychology. The diagnosis was that I had a split personality: the primary personality had returned, and the secondary one had disappeared.
That was the first time I saw Hector's eyes reddened. He asked the doctor in a trembling voice, "Will she come back?"
"No, she won’t."
Hector's body swayed slightly, and he gripped the table for support, asking, "No, there’s still a chance?"
"Unless the primary personality disappears, or chooses to give up."
Give up? Hector tilted his head and locked eyes with me, his expression one I’ll never forget. It was sinister, and paranoid, yet there was a glimmer of hope that could not be ignored.
I started to realize that everything might be different after all. At first, I hadn’t cared much. Whether the main personality or the second one, it was still Edna. What did it matter? Hector loved Edna for who she was, and I believed that I could do the same things she did.
But in the two years I’d been absent, the love between "me" and Hector had replayed in my mind, fueling my hope for the future. However, I failed to see that she and I were, in the end, two separate souls—something Hector could tell clearly.
Hector no longer called me Eds; he called me Edna, or sometimes, just "Hey." Under the same roof, he barely acknowledged my presence.