Months passed. My walks turned into runs. Pushing the stroller up hills stopped leaving me breathless. One afternoon, I passed a shop window and caught my reflection. For the first time in over a year, I stopped and stared.
I had lost 85 pounds. My posture was strong, my skin was glowing, and I actually liked the woman looking back at me. Strangely, Ryan wasn’t the person I felt proudest for.
Part 3: The Green Dress and the Text
When Ryan’s annual company gala rolled around, I bought a fitted, dark-green dress. I didn’t buy it for Ryan or because it hid anything—I bought it because I loved it.
When I walked downstairs, Ryan stared. “Wow. Definitely a good wow.”
At the party, the reactions were immediate. Coworkers complimented my transformation, and Ryan beamed, practically taking credit for it.
“I know, right?” he said loudly, keeping a firm hand wrapped around my waist. “This is Claire.”
His grip tightened every time someone praised my appearance. He was looking at me like a trophy he had successfully polished. I remembered the bathroom floor, the cold zipper, and the quiet crying. Now he was proud to show me off.
During dinner, I noticed a woman standing near the bar watching us. When our eyes met, she looked away quickly and took a sip of her drink. I thought nothing of it at the time.
On the drive home, Ryan rested his hand on my knee and grinned. “See? I knew you still had it in you.”
A few days later, he came home with a massive bouquet of flowers—something he hadn’t done in years. “You look like the woman I married again,” he said, handing them over.
I looked at the flowers, then at him, and smiled. “Then let me plan something special for us.”
His face lit up. He thought I meant romance.
Three days later, my phone buzzed with an unknown number:
“I think we need to talk about Ryan.”
I replied, “Who is this?”
