I Gained 40 Pounds for His Lies

Ellie's POV: Braydon Cullen and I had been married for five years, and in all that time, I had never managed to get pregnant. I went to every doctor, endured every test imaginable, and spent two long years swallowing bitter medicine recommended by Kathleen Finch—the girl my husband used to love. Despite everything, no miracle happened. To make matters worse, those nauseating concoctions Kathleen pushed on me made me pack on 44 pounds. Then came Braydon's birthday. I was supposed to be out of town on a business trip, but I returned early to give him a surprise. When I stood outside his VIP room, I heard one of his friends ask him, "Bray, is Ellie still downing those remedies? Didn't you say you just wanted to help Kathy blow off some steam?" Braydon's reply was cool, utterly detached. "Yeah. She's still taking them." Silence fell over the room before someone else spoke up, uneasy. "For all these years, Ellie's been practically out of her mind trying to conceive. Don't you feel sorry for her?" Braydon let out a soft, mocking scoff. "If Ellie hadn't dragged me into that stupid escape room back then, I wouldn't have missed Kathy's phone call, Kathy wouldn't have been beaten so badly by her ex-husband that she miscarried, and she wouldn't have been left permanently scarred." He paused, his voice hardened with cold conviction. "Kathy still can't get past the trauma. All I'm doing is letting her vent a little by making Ellie take some useless herbs. How could I say no to her? Ellie owes her this." I froze, the blood draining from my face. For years, Kathleen had mocked me—sometimes subtly, sometimes to my face—calling me a fat, barren failure. And all this time, Braydon had orchestrated it. He let her humiliate me just so she could feel a little better. If that was how it was, then I didn't want this man anymore. ***** Inside, someone pressed further. "Braydon, aren't you afraid Ellie will find out and get angry? What if she divorces you?" Braydon went silent for a second, then chuckled. "She's head over heels for me. She'd never ask for a divorce. A little sweet-talking and she'll be fine." He scoffed again, the edge of his voice laced with disdain. "Besides, look at how fat she's gotten. Who else would even look at her now except me?" Outside the door, a violent tremor ran through me. I looked down at my waist. The flat stomach that once boasted toned abs was now swallowed by folds of soft, flabby fat. This was the price of taking those unregulated remedies for years. It had gotten so bad that I couldn't even bear to look at myself in the mirror when I showered. Everyone knew how desperately I wanted a baby. Yet for five agonizing years, my belly remained empty. My boss had wanted to promote me multiple times but held back out of fear that a sudden pregnancy would disrupt my work. I had been passed over for career-defining advancements time and again. I had swallowed every drop of that bitterness. I had consoled myself, telling my breaking heart that some things in life simply mattered more than a career. Now I realized it was all a sick, twisted joke. The birthday gift and cake I had carried all the way dropped from my numb hands, crashing to the floor. The sound cut right through the chatter in the room. "Ellie?" Someone saw me. Braydon turned around, catching sight of me. His body stiffened for a fraction of a second, but his polished mask slipped right back into place. He stood up and walked toward me, gracefully picking up the fallen packages at my feet. His voice carried that familiar, intoxicating warmth. "Ellie, aren't you supposed to be on a business trip today? Why didn't you tell me you were coming back early so I could pick you up?" He reached out, his hand tenderly tucking a loose strand of wet hair behind my ear. "It's pouring outside. Look at you, you're soaked." If I hadn't overheard him just seconds ago, I would have melted in his arms, feeling like the luckiest woman alive. Now, his touch only made my stomach churn with pure revulsion. Seeing me remain silent, he tilted his head, his tone soft and solicitous. "Ellie, what's wrong? Who made you upset?" I raised my head, catching the faint, searching glint in his eyes, and forced a frail smile to my lips. "Nothing. Just tired." He let out a quiet sigh of relief, taking my cold hand in his to lead me inside. I glanced around the room and noticed a vacant chair right next to him. He hadn't expected me back, so that seat was clearly not meant for me. Before I could say a word, the heavy doors pushed open, and Kathleen swept into the room. Holding a bouquet of fresh flowers in her left hand and a luxury bakery box in her right, she bypassed everyone and threw herself directly into Braydon's arms. "Braydon, happy birthday! Sorry I'm late." Braydon stole a nervous glance at me before gently setting her aside. "It's fine. You're not late." Kathleen glided straight over to that empty seat next to his and sat down with natural ease. The room fell into a loaded, uncomfortable silence, the atmosphere thick with unspoken tension. Braydon looked at me, his tone cautious. "Ellie, hold on a second. I'll have the waiter bring in another chair for you." I looked at Kathleen. She rested her chin in her hands, her eyes fixed on me, flashing a look of triumphant provocation. A cold chuckle escaped my throat. There was only one seat left at his side. Since he chose to let Kathleen sit there, I would take my leave. "Don't bother," I said, my voice eerily calm. "I have to head back to the office to finish some work. Enjoy your night." I turned on my heel and walked away. However, before I cleared the doorway, Braydon caught up, grabbing my wrist from behind. "Ellie!" I halted but didn't turn around. An edge of impatience crept into his tone. "Ellie, what are you making a scene for? You're just losing your temper over a seat?" When I didn't answer, his voice softened into a practiced, soothing murmur. "Come on, I didn't know you were coming home today. We can just have the waiter add a chair. Don't ruin the mood for everyone." His smooth, reasonable tone shattered the last thread of my composure. I whipped around, my eyes burning. "Braydon, I'm your wife!" He froze, caught completely off guard. My head was pounding, a chaotic mess of pain and humiliation. I didn't have the energy to argue with him anymore. "I have work to handle," I muttered coldly, shaking off his grip. "I'm leaving." After saying that, I walked out and climbed back into my car. The moment the door clicked shut, isolating me from the world, I broke down and sobbed hysterically. We had been married for five years. And I had carried a fake guilt and lived like an utter fool for three years while everyone around us knew the truth and kept me in the dark. When the tears finally ran dry, all that was left was a hollow, desolate sense of irony. I picked up my phone and opened my messages, typing out a text to my friend and lawyer, Nicole Morrison. I typed: Nicole, please draft a divorce agreement for me. Thank you. Then, I tapped on the chat thread with my boss, Riley Chapman. I wrote: Mr. Chapman, about the overseas assignment you mentioned during last week's meeting... I'd like to take it. Is the position still open?