Chapter 1 - What He Noticed and What He Didn't
My Husband Demanded I Lose Weight Because I Wasn't as Thin as His Brother's Wife — Then Our Fifteen-Year-Old Stood Up and Wiped the Smile Off His Face
The moment my husband looked across our dinner table at his brother's wife and said he'd be proud to take her anywhere, I already knew what was coming next.
Marcus smiled at Diane in her fitted red dress, then turned to me.
"With you, I'm embarrassed to even walk into a grocery store."
Nobody laughed. Not Paul, Marcus's older brother. Not Diane, the woman Marcus had spent months holding up as the standard I could never quite meet. Not our four-year-old, Owen, who was busy pushing peas around his plate, oblivious. And definitely not our fifteen-year-old, Ethan.
My hands started shaking under the table, but for once I didn't hide them. I set my fork down.
"Are you finished, Marcus?"
He blinked. "Oh, come on, Cass."
"No. You wanted everyone to hear it. So finish whatever you were going to say."
His smile slipped. Before he could answer, Ethan pushed his chair back and picked up his water glass.
"Dad, I want to make a toast."
Marcus's expression shifted instantly. "Ethan, sit down. I'm not in the mood for your nonsense."
"No," I said.
Everyone turned to look at me. I looked at my son.
"Let him speak."
Ethan swallowed hard. "I have one sincere wish for you, Dad. So listen carefully."
That was the moment the color started draining out of Marcus's face.
Three months earlier, I'd walked out of a doctor's office smiling for the first time in what felt like a year. After Owen was born, I'd gained weight and developed thyroid problems that made everything about my body feel like it was working against me. My medication needed constant adjusting. Progress had been slow, frustrating, invisible most days.
That morning, though, I finally had good news — my levels were improving.
I climbed into the car where Marcus was waiting.
"Well?" he asked.
"The medication's working."
He glanced over at me, already moving to the part he actually cared about. "And the weight?"
I just stared at him. "The doctor said my body needs time."
"How much time?"
"Apparently my thyroid didn't get your schedule, Marcus."
I expected at least a small laugh. I didn't get one.
"Diane stays in shape," he said instead.
There it was again. Diane was slim and active and effortlessly put-together, and to her credit, she had never once compared our bodies to each other. Marcus did plenty of that on his own.
"Diane didn't have Owen," I said.
"Owen's four."
"And Diane doesn't have my thyroid condition."
May you like
Marcus started the car. "There's always a reason with you, Cass. Always an excuse."
I turned toward the window and watched the relief from that appointment disappear in under five minutes.
