Betty
The gala shimmered with a kind of surreal magic that almost felt like a movie set. Twinkling lights dripped from the ceiling like starlight, the music was elegant and low, and everyone walked around in gowns and suits like we were royalty for the night.
I walked in clutching Marcus’s arm, nervous but holding it together. The second we stepped inside, Kate appeared through the crowd in a lavender dress that made her look like a fairy-tale character.
She didn’t hesitate—just pulled me into a hug like I was her best friend in the world. “You look incredible,” she said in my ear, squeezing me tighter. “Marcus messaged me. Asked for help. He really meant it, Betty.”
I blinked hard. “He did?”
She nodded, stepping back. “He’s been a wreck trying to figure out how to prove it.”
For the first time in what felt like weeks, I let myself smile—genuinely smile. Maybe it wasn’t a setup. Maybe it was real this time. Maybe I could actually have this—him, this dress, this night.
Marcus didn’t say anything—he just gently took my hand and led me out to the dance floor. The DJ slowed the tempo, and the lights dimmed to a soft amber hue. His arm slid around my waist, pulling me close, and I didn’t fight it. My head fit easily under his chin. The warmth of his body was calming and grounding.
“No more secrets,” he said quietly. “I’m never hiding you again.”
His words melted into my skin like something I’d been waiting my whole life to hear.
And I believed him.
Until the lights cut out.
For a second, I thought it was part of the show. A dramatic pause for something romantic, maybe a slideshow or a speech.
But then the spotlight hit the stage.
And there she was.
Stacey in a floor-length red gown that shimmered like blood in the light, holding a mic like she was hosting a game show.
“Let’s give a round of applause,” she said into the mic, her voice sweet and venomous all at once, “for the fat girl who thought she could get her happy ending.”
A few scattered laughs broke the silence. Heads turned. All eyes were on me.
My chest went tight. I stopped breathing.
She paced the stage like a queen. “I hope you all enjoy this little bonus feature.”
Behind her, the screen flickered.
I felt the world stop moving.
And then—my body.
Photos. Dozens of them. From my phone. From my room.
Underwear shots. Me holding the camera at awkward angles, trying to figure out what sexy even looked like. My soft stomach. My round face. My body, exposed and captured in moments meant for no one else.
“She took these thoughts of Marcus,” Stacey said smugly. “But actually we were working together. To get close. And humiliate her. You all thought this was a love story?”
Gasps. Laughter. Murmurs.
I could hear it all, but it felt like I was underwater.
My face burned. My eyes stung. My entire body turned cold.
Next to me, Marcus’s body had gone rigid.
People were still staring. Some shocked, some pitying, some trying to hide laughter behind their hands.
I could barely stand. My legs shook. My throat closed.
Kate’s hand touched my back, whispering, “Betty. I swear I didn’t know. I didn’t—”
I wasn’t listening anymore.
Stacey was still talking, still smirking, like she had won a game I didn’t know we were still playing.
But I didn’t hear her anymore either.
All I could think was—I trusted him. I trusted them. And now my worst fear wasn’t just true. It was public. Broadcasted. Memorialized. Weaponized.
The tears came silently. Hot, fat drops rolling down my cheeks as I stared at a version of myself I barely recognized.
Marcus reached for me. “Betty—”
I stepped back.
Because no matter how much he swore he loved me, this was always going to be my reality.
I was the punchline. The before photo. The sad project.
The fat girl who thought she could get her happy ending.