Chapter 1
1171 Words
~ Becca ~
Being fat is a curse.
That’s what people like to pretend they don’t think.
They smile at you, call you “soft,” “sweet,” “cute,” like you’re a puppy instead of a person. They say things that sound like compliments but cut like knives. “You have such a pretty face.”
“You dress so well for your size.”
“He’s so lucky to have you.”
Lucky.
As if Stephen marrying me was charity work.
I heard it everywhere whispers at bridal fittings, murmurs at cake tastings, even behind bathroom doors when my bridesmaids thought I left. I told myself it didn’t matter. I told myself love made all of them irrelevant.
I told myself Stephen chose me.
Chose this body.
Chose me.
I held onto that fantasy until the night before my wedding.
Until the moment that broke me in half.
I had spent the entire morning finishing last-minute decorations at the venue, writing my vows, practicing my smile, trying to ignore the tight pinch of my mother’s comment: “You’d look better in the dress if you lost ten more pounds.”
But I didn’t let it ruin my mood.
Not when tomorrow was supposed to be the happiest day of my life.
I got to our hotel early, excited. I bought his favorite champagne, strawberries, and the stupid white lingerie set I never wore because every time I tried, I started crying. But today? I wanted to feel beautiful for him. I wanted us to have one last quiet moment before the chaos of tomorrow.
I climbed the stairs with a tray in my hands, heart beating fast with hope.
Then I heard it.
A sound that didn’t belong in my house.
A sound that did not belong anywhere near my future.
A moan.
High. Breathless. Familiar.
Brielle.
My cousin.
The girl I grew up with.
The girl I defended.
The girl I trusted even when she didn’t deserve it.
I froze.
The tray shook in my hands. My breath stuttered. My legs turned to wet sand. I blinked, once, twice, hoping I misheard. Hoping it was a TV. A phone. A nightmare.
Then I heard him.
Stephen.
“f**k, baby… you feel so good.”
The world dropped out from under me.
I moved without thinking, feet silent on the carpet as I approached the door. It was cracked open—just enough for me to see my entire life burning in front of me.
Stephen.
My fiancé.
The man I was supposed to marry tomorrow.
Naked.
Moving.
Inside my cousin.
My dress was hanging on the closet door behind them.
My veil lay on my pillow.
My wedding shoes sat neatly by the bed.
And Brielle my own blood was laughing, her legs wrapped around him as if she owned him.
My hands went numb. The tray slipped.
It crashed to the ground, glass exploding across the floor, strawberries flying, champagne spilling like blood.
Stephen snapped around.
His body jerked.
His face drained of color.
“Becca…wait…shit”
Brielle looked over Stephen’s shoulder with the smuggest f*****g smile I’ve ever seen.
“Oh,” she said, breathing hard. “Didn’t know you were home. My bad.”
My voice didn’t work at first. My throat felt glued shut, like betrayal had crawled inside and strangled me from the inside out.
Finally, I said it.
“What the f**k are you doing?”
My voice cracked, but it didn’t break.
Brielle didn’t even bother covering herself properly. She wrapped the sheet around her chest lazily, like this was normal, like she wasn’t blowing up my life.
Stephen reached for me, his eyes frantic. “Becca, listen”
“Don’t touch me.”
The words tore out of me like an open wound. He froze.
Brielle snorted. “Come on, Becca. Don’t act surprised. He’s a man. You can’t expect him to live on scraps forever.”
I stared at her.
“Scraps?” My body shook. “That’s what you think I am?”
She shrugged. “You’re… comfortable. Predictable. Safe. Guys don’t want safe. And honestly?” She looked me up and down with cold eyes. “You should’ve known better. He was never yours.”
I slapped her.
Hard.
Her head whipped to the side, and she gasped.
“You slept in my house,” I whispered. “I fed you. I gave you clothes. I helped you when you had nothing. And you repay me by climbing into my bed? With my fiancé?”
Her eyes sparked with anger, but she didn’t speak.
I turned to Stephen.
He looked like a man watching his entire world collapse.
Good.
“You promised me forever,” I said. “You looked me in the eyes and said you wanted a life with me. You let me plan a wedding while you f****d my cousin behind my back.”
“Bex, I swear I”
“Shut up,” I said. “Just shut the f**k up.”
He flinched.
“You said you loved me,” I whispered.
“I did,” he said softly. “I do.”
“Not enough to stay loyal,” I spat. “Not enough to respect me. Not enough to even fake it until the wedding.”
He ran a hand through his hair, panicked. “I didn’t mean for this to happen”
“Oh, save it. You didn’t ‘mean’ to cheat? You didn’t ‘mean’ to put your d**k in my cousin? Really? It just happened, right? You tripped and fell into her?”
His mouth shut.
No excuses left.
I stood straighter.
My cheeks were wet, but my spine felt rigid and sharp.
“You didn’t just break my heart,” I told him. “You humiliated me. You destroyed me. You made me believe I was lucky to be chosen by you. But the truth is simple.”
I took a breath that tasted like poison.
“You picked me because you thought I’d never leave. Because you thought a fat girl should be grateful.”
Stephen’s face twisted with regret real or fake, I didn’t care.
“Becca…”
“No,” I said. “We’re done.”
Brielle scoffed. “You’re acting like a drama queen. It’s not that deep”
I laughed, hysterical and shaking.
“Oh, it’s deep. It’s so deep you’re going to drown in it.”
They stared at me like they didn’t recognize me.
Maybe they didn’t.
I stepped back toward the doorway.
“You didn’t just ruin a wedding,” I said. “You created a monster.”
Stephen swallowed hard. “Bex… please”
“You’ll regret this,” I whispered. “Both of you.”
I turned around.
Walked straight through the broken glass.
Didn’t feel a thing.
They thought the fat girl would break.
Cry.
Beg.
But the fat girl is dead.
And the woman taking her place?
She’s coming back for blood.
- Writer
