The Chubby Wife He Couldn't Forget

Chapter 4

CAMDEN

The first night in our shared suite felt heavier than expected. I sat at the sleek desk chair opposite the king-sized bed, my laptop glowing with quarterly reports I wasn’t really reading. Daisy moved around the room quietly, unpacking the small bag her family had thrust at her like an afterthought. She still wore that same navy dress from earlier, the one her mother had ridiculed. I caught myself glancing up more than I should.

She stopped a few feet away, twisting her fingers together. “Camden… can I ask you a question?”

I nodded, keeping my eyes on the screen for a second longer, buying time. “Shoot.”

“Why did you willingly agree to marry me?”

My head snapped up fast. Those words hit like a gut punch. "Shit." I couldn’t tell her the truth....that raw pity had twisted in my chest when I saw her perched on that window, her voice cracking about being a “bloated cow” and a debt payment. Saying it out loud would crush whatever fragile spark was flickering between us. I searched for something—anything else.

“I… I uhhhh… I cannot handle rejection.”

She blinked, repeating slowly, “You cannot handle rejection?”

“Yes,” I pushed on, leaning back in the chair with what I hoped looked like casual confidence. “When I saw you trying to run away from me—without even meeting me first—it hurt my pride. No woman has ever tried to jump out my window to escape. So I married you. Simple as that.”

Her face went completely emotionless. No anger, no tears, just this blank wall like she’d heard a thousand crueler things before and had learned to shut down. It twisted something in my chest. She nodded once, mechanical, then turned and climbed onto the massive bed, pulling the covers up like a shield. No comeback. No fire like the escape artist who’d sassed me earlier. Just quiet acceptance, as if this was exactly what she expected from the world.

I went back to my laptop, but the numbers blurred. The room felt too silent. After twenty minutes, I stood up. “I’ll be right back. I need some air.”

She didn’t respond.

Down the grand staircase, the house was dim except for soft lights in the hallway. I found Mom sitting on a velvet chaise midway down, nursing a glass of whiskey alone. Her elegant robe looked out of place at this hour, but her expression was pure storm clouds.

“Mom? Why are you still up?”

She took a slow sip, eyes sharp. “Couldn’t sleep knowing my only son threw his life away today. Camden, honestly—what were you thinking? Marrying that girl?”

I stiffened, stepping closer. “Her name is Daisy. And I like her. She’s got more spirit than half the socialites you parade around.”

Mom cut me off with a sharp laugh. “Spirit? Please. I couldn’t possibly be in love with that plus-sized pig. Look at her, darling. She doesn’t fit our world. The way she carries herself, that dress straining at every seam, it's embarrassing. I cannot let this marriage last long. It’s already damaging our reputation.”

“Mom, stop.” My voice rose, protective heat flaring. “You don’t know her. She’s kind, she’s real, and she didn’t ask for any of this. Calling her names doesn’t make you right.”

She waved a dismissive hand, setting her glass down with a clink. “I’m your mother. I have the right to do what I want. And I already invited Olivia over....she’s arriving tomorrow. You two were perfect last year. She’ll help you see sense, and we’ll get this little mistake annulled or divorced quickly.”

I gripped the banister, my jaw tight. “That’s not happening. Daisy is my wife now. This isn’t some game.”

Mom stood, smoothing her robe with finality. “She is coming over and that is final!”