Mr. President, Your Plus-Size Wife Has Divorced You

I woke up to the soft sunlight filtering through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the floor. I slowly opened my eyes, feeling the warmth of the morning surrounding me. It was a new day, and that alone was enough to make me smile. I loved mornings... and new beginnings. I loved the sound of birds chirping outside, the smell of coffee filling the house, the rustling of the morning newspapers, and the quiet moments before a new day began. I had always believed that the most beautiful thing in life was a new beginning. A beginning meant another chance. Another chance for today to be better than yesterday. I got out of bed, took a quick shower, and then stood in front of the mirror to fix my hair. My hair was long and black, reaching the middle of my back. Everyone always said that my hair was the most beautiful thing about me. I smiled faintly as I ran my fingers through the strands, then looked at my reflection from head to toe. My full figure. The rolls that showed through my clothes. My puffy face, which sometimes made me feel as though I looked like a balloon. I stared at myself for a few seconds before sighing. My face was full and round, with chubby cheeks that made me look younger than my actual age. My eyes were wide, dark brown, and framed by long lashes, but they always looked tired, with faint dark circles beneath them from all the crying. Crying was my favorite habit, after all... My nose was small and straight, and my lips were full with a soft pink hue. "Well... I guess they're right. My hair really is the prettiest thing about me," I said with a faint smile, trying to turn it into a joke rather than let it hurt me. I gathered my hair, got dressed, and headed to the dining room. The table had already been set. I sat down in front of a huge breakfast spread filled with all kinds of sweets, freshly baked cakes, croissants, pancakes, jam, and fruit, along with coffee and juice. I smiled as I looked at everything. The thing I loved most in this world was dessert. I picked up a piece of cake and took a bite, then closed my eyes in delight. Maybe these little things were what made me love life. I took another bite before reaching for my phone. I opened my conversation with Khaled. He hadn't replied. I looked at the messages I'd sent him the night before. "Did you make it to your meeting?" "Don't forget to eat breakfast." "How did the meeting go?" "Are you coming home tomorrow?" "Would you like me to bring you lunch today?" Not a single reply... I sighed and placed my phone on the table. Khaled did this often. He rarely replied to my messages. Sometimes, he would read them and deliberately ignore them. Even so, I always found excuses for him. Maybe he was busy... Maybe he had a meeting. Maybe he didn't have his phone with him. That was what I always told myself. After finishing breakfast, I got up and headed to the kitchen. I decided to prepare lunch for him myself. I walked into the kitchen and began taking ingredients out of the refrigerator. One of the maids was already there. The moment she saw me, she spoke up. "Mrs. Sarah, I'll prepare it for you," she offered. I smiled and shook my head. "No, I'll make it myself." "But, ma'am, you can leave it to me." "It's fine. I want to make it myself. I always do this for Khaled. He likes my cooking," I replied. The maid hesitated as she looked at me, then eventually left me to it. Ever since the day we got married, I'd always made a point of preparing food for him and sending it to his office, even though he refused almost every time. He would tell me there was no need to trouble myself and that he could eat at the company. But I couldn't bring myself to ignore him. I didn't want him to go hungry. So I kept preparing his meals, even when he didn't ask me to. The only thing I could offer him was food. Yes, my marriage to him was nothing more than a marriage on paper. He had married me because his grandfather had asked him to before he died. I had been his grandfather's dying wish. Khaled had honored that wish and married me. But I remained nothing more than a wife on paper. I did nothing. I wasn't allowed to do anything. He refused to let me work or socialize with other people, and he gave me a monthly allowance to spend however I pleased. Cooking was the only thing I could do. Whenever I cooked for him, I felt as though I was repaying him for the monthly allowance he gave me. Time passed as I cooked. I carefully arranged everything on the plates, then packed the food neatly into a lunchbox. I looked at it for a moment, feeling a little happy. Maybe when he saw me standing in front of him with this food, he would smile. Maybe he would thank me... Maybe... I stopped myself from thinking any further. I returned to my room and opened my wardrobe. After a moment of searching, I picked out a pretty pink dress. It was simple and soft, and it suited me well. I put it on, then applied a little makeup, keeping it light and natural. I brushed my hair and pulled it back, leaving a few loose strands framing my face. Then I looked at myself in the mirror. I smiled. "Khaled will like how you look today," I whispered to myself before picking up the lunchbox and leaving the house. After a while, I arrived at Khaled's company. I walked into the building with the lunchbox in my hands. I knew the place well. I'd been here countless times since our wedding. Yet every time I came, I felt a little nervous. Maybe because I was always afraid of embarrassing him. I was walking down the hallway when I suddenly bumped into a woman coming from the opposite direction. The lunchbox shook in my hands, and I stumbled a step backward. I quickly looked up at her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—" But she cut me off angrily. "You fat hippo! Watch where you're going!" I froze for a moment. Lowering my eyes, I replied quietly, "I'm sorry." The woman looked me up and down before walking past me without even bothering to apologize. I stood there for a moment, then continued on my way. I heard another woman's voice behind me. "Just leave her alone. She's Mr. Khaled's maid." My steps faltered for a moment. Then I heard her laugh. "She comes here all the time to bring him lunch." A third woman chimed in mockingly. "How can he let someone like her deliver his lunch?" The first woman laughed. "I bet she eats half of it on the way here." Their laughter grew louder. Heat crept into my face. I didn't turn around. What would I even say if I did? That he was my husband and I wasn't his maid? Or that I hadn't eaten his food and had plenty of food waiting for me at home? Damn it... How was I supposed to defend myself? It's fine. This happened all the time, so much so that I'd stopped caring. I stepped into the elevator and quickly pressed the button to close the doors. Leaning against the wall, I looked down at the lunchbox in my hands. There was a dull ache in my chest. But it was fine. Getting used to pain had always come easily to me. "It's okay, Sarah... It's okay, Sarah... It's okay." I repeated the words in my head, as though trying to convince myself they were true. The elevator began to rise. Finally, it stopped. The doors slid open. I stepped out and headed straight for Khaled's office. His secretary wasn't there, and the hallway outside his office was empty. There was no one around. I didn't think much of it and walked straight to his office door. I pushed it open and stepped inside. After all, I didn't need permission to enter my own husband's office. But the moment I opened the door... I stopped. My entire body went rigid. I couldn't move. I couldn't even breathe.