She could tell when he felt the sting of the antiseptic, and she reached down and took his hand in hers, squeezing a little, reassuring. "You weren't going mad," she said. "It makes sense that it was in the mirrors; they're important to the story."
She closed the ointment, and she put it aside, then she looked at him openly for a minute, not saying anything, just looking. The curls were gone, and he'd put on some weight. He looked healthier, handsomer, if not necessarily happier. Still, the pallor of illness was gone, and he looked much, much stronger. The vines retracted, and the scent of roses filled the room.
"Hi," she finally said softly, after the last vine had disappeared. "It's been awhile."