Emergence

Damian Graves and I had been together for ten years, and he was perfect in every way.

He was handsome, successful, and driven, except for one thing. He never missed a chance to cut me down.

I placed second in the competition instead of first, and he said I "wasn't smart enough." I finally earned my first paycheck from writing, and he dismissed it as "completely worthless."

Later, standing in the bridal shop, Damian looked me up and down in my wedding dress and told me my figure was not good enough, that I did not look anything like a bride should.

Something in me snapped. For the first time in ten years, I screamed at him. "If I'm not good enough for you, why are you even marrying me?"

In the bridal boutique, when I stepped out of the fitting room, even strangers nearby gasped.

The sales associate smiled. "Ms. Jones, you're so tall and slim. This wedding dress looks absolutely stunning on you.”

"Go show your fiancé. He's going to love it."

I smiled back. "I wouldn't be so sure. He has very high standards."

After over ten years together, Damian Graves always held me to impossibly high standards and never once praised me.

Yet today, looking at myself in the mirror with my slender waist and fair skin, I thought I looked perfect in this dress.

I thought maybe Damian would like it. Would he compliment me? Would he think I was beautiful? Would he be stunned speechless like the other grooms in the shop?

With that hope building inside me, I nervously tugged at the corner of his sleeve. The next moment, my expectations shattered.

Damian turned to look at me, his eyes traveling up and down. The first words out of his mouth were, "Elara, you're still too fat."

My smile froze. Even the sales associate beside us looked uncomfortable.

"Your face is puffy, your arms are thick, you have a big frame, and your waist is too wide. It doesn't look good at all."

Damian sighed. "Elara, you don't look anything like a bride in this dress."

His voice was not loud, but just loud enough for everyone in the store to hear.

Different gazes landed on me, pitying, mocking, curious.

In that moment, I felt like nothing more than an object for Damian to inspect, not a person.

Tears pooled in my eyes. My chest felt so tight I could barely breathe.

I had exercised every single day just to fit into this dress, following his demands. For three months, I ate almost nothing. I worked so hard to lose 24 pounds, all so I could look good at the wedding.

Why did he still have to say these things?

Maybe the hunger from all those months made me emotionally fragile, or maybe the feeling of crushed expectations was simply unbearable.

Either way, in that moment, after enduring for ten long years, I could not bear it any longer.

I tore off the