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Hoang Tang Thi Thu Huong, 29, woke up in the intensive care unit of HCMC’s Cho Ray Hospital in the summer of 2016. She tried to open her eyes but saw only a milky white blur.

Among the visitors was classmate Phuoc Thinh who said “Hang in there” and held her hand tightly. “That moment helped me through 17 surgeries to rebuild my face,” the Dak Lak Province native says.

Huong and Thinh were studying nursing at the Mien Nam College of Economics and Technology in then Go Vap District in HCMC.

Thinh, who is from Tien Giang Province, was impressed by Huong’s reserved but caring nature, and they became friends.

On March 30, 2016, while accompanying a friend to their dorm room, Huong was attacked with acid by two strangers, an unintended victim in a revenge attack aimed at her friend.

The attack burned 75% of her face, deformed her nose, cheeks, and lips, and left her left eye permanently blind.

The days after the attack were excruciating for Huong. She woke to find her hair burned and cried when doctors told her it had to be shaved.

Every dressing change tore at her skin and the pain forced her to grip the bed sheets. During these moments, Thinh was always by her side.

He came with classmates at first before visiting her alone every day. He sat in silence by the bedside and sometimes brought milk tea or a small snack.

His presence offered Huong comfort. Their bond grew during the quiet afternoons in the hospital.

One day, Thinh wrote “Do you love me?” on Huong’s palm. She laughed and cried. Thinh says he had admired her for a long time. “No matter how her appearance changed, her sincere and kind heart stayed the same,” the 29-year-old says. He knew recovery would take time but also that he could wait.

Thinh’s choice initially worried his family in Tien Giang. “Any parent would want their child to be safe and happy. But when they saw my determination, they advised me to care for her and take responsibility for my choice.”

In 2017 the perpetrators were sentenced to prison, and Huong started a new chapter in her life.

She felt insecure returning to class, covered her face with a scarf and avoided others. She became fearful of motorbike engines and could not ride on her own.

Every morning at 7 a.m. Thinh would wait outside her dorm to take her to school. In the crowded schoolyard, he would hold her hand to show support despite the curious stares at her scarred face. Their relationship was not without difficulties.

Her wounds often became infected and painful, and the stress made her irritable. But he would stay quiet until she calmed down and then comfort her. “I realized he loved me more than I loved myself,” she says.

With Thinh’s support, Huong gradually replaced her headscarf with a mask and then only sunglasses. Over two years she underwent 17 reconstructive surgeries, and Thinh waited outside the operating room each time.

His dedication also reassured her mother, Nguyen Thi Loc. In early 2021 they held a wedding with the blessings of both families.

Soon afterward the Covid-19 pandemic separated the newlyweds. Thinh, a nurse by then, joined the frontline while Huong, pregnant, stayed home with severe morning sickness and anxiety as daily death tolls rose.

When Huong went into labor, Thinh asked for leave but was placed in quarantine. He watched her enter the operating room through his phone. For eight months they met only through video calls.

At one point he worked for 45 days in a row to get a month at home. After social distancing ended he rode more than 300 km from HCMC to Dak Lak. Huong broke down in tears when she saw her husband at the gate.

In mid-2023, when their daughter turned two, the couple decided to leave HCMC and settle in Buon Ma Thuot.

Huong moved first with their daughter and opened a small spa, while Thinh stayed back to work and apply for a job in the new city.

In July that year Thinh started working at a hospital in Buon Ma Thuot and the family was reunited. The job was more demanding and paid less than in HCMC, but they gained evenings together as a family.

Now they start each day with breakfast, taking their daughter to school, and going to work. In the evening their home is filled with their child’s laughter. Huong’s face still carries scars but her eyes glisten with joy.

She says: “If not for the accident, we might have remained just classmates. But the tragedy brought him to me. “His love and our daughter’s laughter have healed me.”