Claimed by My Ex-Husband's Uncle: His Plus-Size Desire

Lorena's POV

"You're fat and infertile. Those are the two reasons I want to divorce you."

The words left Diego Mendoza's lips without the slightest burden.

Meanwhile, I was still standing in the living room, my body wrapped in maroon silk lingerie. I had deliberately bought it earlier that afternoon after spending hours thinking in the boutique. For two weeks, he had not touched me, and for two weeks, he had been coming home late at night.

But now, with the divorce papers he had thrown onto the floor, I felt like the stupidest person in the world.

"What did you say?" I asked.

Diego loosened his tie with a rough motion. He tossed his expensive navy suit onto the back of the sofa. The eyes that once always softened whenever they looked at me were now filled with disgust.

"So you're deaf too, apparently," he said sarcastically.

He walked closer, but not to hold me. He stopped about two meters away from me, enough to look at my entire body from head to toe, and his gaze looked like he was examining something disgusting.

"Look at yourself," he continued while pointing at my body in a degrading manner. "What were you thinking wearing that? You think dressing like that would turn me on?"

I lowered my head and looked at my own body. The lingerie I had chosen was not too revealing because I did not have the courage for that. Thin straps on the shoulders, lace wrapping around my breasts, and a cut that followed the curves of my body. Earlier at the store, the saleswoman had said this was the perfect color for a fat woman like me.

"I just wanted to..."

"You just wanted what? To make me throw up? I've been avoiding you for two weeks because I'm disgusted, and instead of realizing it, you welcome me home wearing a ridiculous costume like that."

My chest felt like it had been stabbed. The word "disgusted" echoed repeatedly inside my head. I rubbed my own arm, trying to calm myself down.

"Diego, please listen to me!"

"What exactly am I supposed to listen to? Listen to your excuses for gaining twenty-five kilograms in five years? Listen to your excuses for why your womb is still barren?"

Infertile.

I had heard that word countless times from gynecologists, but hearing it come from Diego's mouth felt like a dagger being twisted slowly.

"We can try again. The doctor said there's still a possibility, we just need to..."

"Enough." Diego raised his hand. "I'm sick of those false hopes. Five years, Lorena. Five years waiting for good news. Five years watching my friends have children while I come home only to see a fat woman."

He pointed at me again.

"What did I do wrong? I've tried to be a good wife. I cook for you every day, I clean this house, I..."

"You cook for me every day? Do you think that's what I need? A wife whose cooking tastes good? I need a woman who makes me proud when I bring her to office events. Not a fat woman who doesn't know how to take care of herself."

He pulled out his phone from his pocket, opened something, then turned the screen toward me. A photo of a woman. Beautiful, slim, with long wavy black hair, flawless fair skin, and a perfect smile.

"Her name is Isabella. She's my coworker. She's beautiful, kind, and not fat like you. Every day I see her at the office, and every day I wonder why I married you in the first place."

Isabella Rodriguez. Over the past two months, Diego had mentioned her name often.

"Compare her body to yours. She's slim, slender, every outfit looks perfect on her. Meanwhile, you..."

He stopped speaking, but his eyes spoke louder. His gaze moved from my face, to my neck, to my chest slightly exposed by the lingerie, to my stomach that was far from flat, to my wide hips, to my thighs.

"You know what? Even a pig is more attractive than you. At least pigs can be fattened up and sold. You? You're just wasteful. You eat a lot but produce nothing. Not beautiful, not slim, and incapable of giving me a child."

He compared me to a pig.

I bit my lower lip so hard it bled.

"Are you serious?" I whispered.

"Serious?" Diego stepped closer. He pointed at the floor, at the papers still lying there. "Those are divorce papers, Lorena. Do you still not understand?"

I stared at the white envelope.

"For the past two weeks, I thought you were tired from work. I thought maybe you were stressed. I even thought of thousands of ways to make you happy. I bought new cookbooks, I learned massage techniques, I bought new lingerie. I thought if I wore this, maybe your desire for me would come back."

Diego scoffed. "My desire for you died a long time ago. Maybe since the second year of our marriage, but I stayed because my mother told me not to give up. Turns out she was wrong because giving up is the best decision I'll ever make."

I stared at his face. The face that had once made me fall in love at first sight in a café near campus. The face that once looked at me as though I was the most precious thing in the world. Now that face was filled with hatred.

"Don't you love me anymore?" I asked.

"I never did. Maybe I only thought I loved you, but now I know the difference between comfort and love. You were just my comfort zone, Lorena. And I'm sick of boring comfort."

He walked toward the door and grabbed his jacket, but before leaving, he turned around one last time.

"Sign the papers. Don't drag out your own suffering. Besides, there's nothing worth saving in this marriage. No children, no beautiful memories worth remembering, and definitely no future."

The front door closed. Diego shut it calmly as though nothing had happened.

I lowered my gaze to my stomach. Fat? Maybe. And I could not deny it. Five years of marriage had changed my body shape, but I thought that was part of commitment, and I thought Diego would accept me for who I was.

Stupid. I was so stupid.

I picked up the envelope from the floor. My hands were still trembling as I broke the seal open.

My tears finally fell onto the paper, blurring some of the words. I could not stop them. Everything I had been holding back since Diego started speaking finally shattered.

I gripped the papers tightly until they crumpled in my hand, then I looked toward the door Diego had closed behind him.

"Fine. I'll sign them. But don't expect me to stay broken forever because of you, Diego Mendoza."