The wedding was off—but his mother had another idea.

She looked me over and said I’d always loved him. That I was loyal. That I “matched” him now. She suggested a small ceremony—today—to save face.

I realized then: I wasn’t a person to them. I was a contingency plan.

I refused and left.

That night, Sayer showed up at my door, stunned by my appearance, eager to “fix” his reputation. He said we could make sense now. That people would understand. That I’d be the one he chose.

I laughed.

Six months earlier, I might have said yes. I thought getting smaller would make me enough. But it only made it clearer who wasn’t.

I told him the truth: I wasn’t unlovable. He was shallow. Maren didn’t ruin him—she just played his game better.

I closed the door.

What I lost wasn’t weight—it was the belief that I had to earn basic respect. And for the first time, I didn’t shrink myself to fit someone else’s idea of love.

I stayed exactly who I am.