I Left, Glowed Up Now He's Begging For A Second Chance

Beverly POV

“You’re just so fat and ugly. Take a good look at yourself and tell me if you were me would you still be with someone like you?”

His voice cut through the dining room that morning cold, sharp and deliberate. Each word landed like a blade, slicing deeply into me, reminding me once again how miserable my life had become.

I whimpered quietly from where I lay crumpled beside the kitchen cabinet, my body curled in on itself like I was trying to disappear into the floor as I watched him helplessly, my chest tight, my heart aching painfully.

Marcus sat comfortably on our large dining table, eating like nothing was wrong. Like he hadn’t just shattered me. He shoveled in the food I’d spent hours cooking standing, sweating and forcing myself through the pain while I lay here with an empty stomach.

He said starving me was one of the ways to make me lose weight.

And I didn’t complain infact I never did.

My whole life had revolved around me trying to please him, respect and love him the right way a wife should. But no matter what I did, it never seems to be enough because his cold blue eyes, never left or stopped glaring at me with open disgust every now and then.

Those eyes.

I swallowed the huge lump that had formed in my throat as I adjusted my posture slightly. Yes those eyes, I could still remember when those same eyes had once looked at me like I was the only woman in the world.

That was years ago before the childbirth tragedy. When everything was still normal back when I was still a damsel with soft curves in the right places curves that turned heads, curves that made Marcus proud to hold my hand in public.

I caught my reflection in one of the pots lining the wall and another quiet sob escaped my lips.

The woman staring back at me didn’t feel real at all. Puffy, chubby cheeks. Red, hollow eyes and a swollen body which weigh over a hundred pounds heavier than I used to be.

God… how did I become like this?

It started two years ago when I gave birth to our son, Tristan.

My Tristan.

May God rest his soul.

Complications during his birth had damaged parts of my body and my hormones went wild in the process making me add weight.

The weight had came suddenly, settling in all the wrong places before I knew it until my once-perfect figure became shapeless.

The doctors said exercise would help.

But how do you exercise when your heart is buried with your child?

After Tristan died, I wasn’t myself anymore. Depression wrapped around me like chains. I barely had the strength to get out of bed, let alone work on my body and even with all that the weight never left.

Marcus had hated it from the beginning. Even before Tristan died, he frowned at my new