The Plus-Sized Bride No One Wanted: Too Fat to Love

~ Ivy ~

The sheets on the right side of the bed were perfectly flat. They were cold, too. Julian had not slept there last night. He had not slept there the night before either. In the fourteen months since we got married, he had barely touched this bed.

I sat up and pulled the heavy blanket around my shoulders. The air in my bedroom always felt like winter, even in the middle of summer. I swung my legs over the edge of the mattress and stood up. When I walked past the door, I heard the sound of sweeping brushes in the hallway. Then came the giggles.

"Did you see the size of the dress she ordered?" a maid named Sarah whispered. Her voice carried right through the wood. "It looks like a tent. Master Julian must hate coming home to look at that."

"He doesn't look at her," another maid replied, laughing quietly. "That is why he keeps her hidden in this wing of the manor. He is probably with Miss Chloe right now. Miss Chloe actually fits into normal clothes."

My chest tightened. It was a familiar ache, like a heavy stone sitting on my ribs. I walked over to the full-length mirror in the corner of my room. I wore a gray, oversized nightshirt that hung down to my knees. I looked at my wide hips, my thick arms, and the soft curve of my stomach.

You are an embarrassment, my mother’s voice echoed in my head, repeating the words she had told me my entire life. No one wants to look at a girl who cannot control herself.

I squeezed my eyes shut, swallowed the lump in my throat, and opened my nightstand drawer. Hidden beneath a stack of old sketchbooks was a small plastic stick. I had been feeling sick to my stomach for three weeks. Every morning, I woke up dizzy and nauseous.

I took the test to the bathroom. I waited for five long minutes, my heart thumping against my ribs. When I finally looked down, two bright pink lines stared back at me.

Positive. "What?" I gasped. For weeks, I've been testing myself and it comes out negative. But now, seeing this positive sign made something in me spark to life.

My hands started to shake so hard that the plastic stick dropped onto the marble floor with a sharp clack. I pressed both hands against my stomach. For a single, beautiful second, a wave of warmth rushed through me. A baby. There was a tiny life growing inside me. Someone who would not look at me with disgust. Someone I could hold, and protect, and love with everything I had.

"I will be a good mom," I whispered to the empty bathroom. "I will make sure you never feel unwanted."

I wiped a tear from my cheek and rushed to change. I picked out a dark navy dress. It was loose and baggy, the kind of clothes I always wore to make myself invisible. But today, I wanted to try. I wanted to make things right with Julian. Maybe a baby was what we needed to finally become a real family.

I spent the next four hours in the kitchen. I did not let the chefs help me. I wanted to do everything with my own hands. I cooked Julian’s favorite foods: seared scallops, creamy truffle risotto, and chocolate soufflés for dessert. My back ached and my feet hurt, but I did not stop. I set the long, polished table in the formal dining room. I lit three tall white candles, placing them exactly in the center.

As I adjusted the silver forks, Sarah walked into the room to deliver a pitcher of water. She looked at the candles, then at the food, and smirked.

"Are you waiting up for the Master again, Madam?" she asked, her tone dripping with fake politeness.

"Yes," I said, keeping my voice low. "He should be home soon."

Sarah let out a short, mocking laugh. "He is not coming home for you, Mrs. Vance. If I were you, I would just put that food in the fridge and go to bed. You are wasting your time."

"That will be all, Sarah," I said. I kept my eyes on the candles until she walked away. I refused to let her see me cry.

The clock on the wall ticked loudly.

Eight o'clock passed. Then nine. Then ten.

By eleven o'clock, the candles had burned down to short stubs. The scallops were cold and rubbery. The risotto had hardened into a sticky clump, and the soufflés had completely deflated in the oven. My feet were numb from standing by the window.

Just as I was about to give up, bright headlights cut through the darkness outside. A heavy black car pulled up the driveway.

My heart did a nervous flip. I hurried to the jungle of cold food and stood by the head of the table.

The heavy front doors swung open. Julian walked into the dining room. His expensive suit jacket was unbuttoned, his silk tie was loosened around his neck, and his dark hair was slightly messy. As he stepped closer, the sharp scent of heavy, sweet floral perfume hit my nose. That's not his perfume. Probably his mistress. It was the same scent he brought home three nights a week. But I'm used to being ignored.

Julian stopped when he saw me. His face instantly twisted into a look of deep irritation.

"Why are you standing there in the dark?" he asked. His voice was sharp and cold. He did not ask how I was. He did not glance at the food.

"I was waiting for you," I said, my voice trembling. "I made dinner. It is your favorite."

Julian looked down at the table, his eyes full of scorn. "Look at this mess. It is past midnight. Do you really have nothing better to do than hover over me like a ghost?"

"I just wanted to talk to you," I said. I pressed my palms against the fabric of my dress, right over my belly. "Julian, please. Sit down for just a minute."

"I am tired, Ivy," he snapped, stepping toward the stairs. "I spent the entire day running a billion-dollar company. I do not have the time or the energy to sit here and listen to you whine about your boring life."

"It is not about my life," I said quickly. The words rushed out before I could lose my courage. "Julian... I am pregnant."

The room went completely silent. The only sound was the faint ticking of the wall clock.

I looked at his face, begging for a sign of softness. For one crazy moment, I thought he might smile. I thought he might walk over, put his strong arms around me, and tell me everything was going to be okay. I wanted so badly to be enough for him.

Instead, Julian’s jaw tightened until a muscle jumped in his cheek. He looked down at my stomach, and his blue eyes filled with pure, unadulterated disgust. He took a large step back, as if I were a diseased animal that might contaminate his clean suit.

"Get rid of it," he said.

The words were short. They dropped between us like heavy blocks of ice.

I gasped, the air leaving my lungs in a sharp rush. Tears flooded my eyes, blurring his harsh face. "What? No. No, Julian, I can't. This is our baby. Our baby."

"I don't care," Julian said. He did not raise his voice. He spoke in a low, venomous whisper that cut deeper than a scream. "Do you really think a child is going to change anything between us? Look at yourself, Ivy."

He walked closer, leaning down so his face was inches from mine. I could smell the alcohol and the sweet perfume on him.

"You are the biggest mistake of my life," Julian sneered, his eyes scanning my body with utter contempt. "Your family forced me into this ridiculous marriage to save their pathetic business. I never wanted you. I don't want a family with you. A child will not make me love you. It won't make you thinner. It won't make you worthy of being a Vance."

"Julian, please," I sobbed, the tears streaming hot down my cheeks. "It's an innocent baby. It's a human life. How can you say that?"

"Because it is the truth," he said, straightening up. He looked at me as if I were dirt beneath his expensive leather shoes. "I will not have a fat, clumsy woman using a child to trap me in this house forever. Call a clinic tomorrow. If you don't, I will make sure your father's company goes bankrupt by the end of the week. Choose wisely."

He turned on his heel, grabbed his coat from the chair, and walked out the front door. He slammed it behind him so hard that the silver forks on the table rattled against the plates.

The sound of his car engine roared to life outside, then faded away into the night. He was going back to her. He was going back to his mistress..

I stood entirely alone in the dim, candlelit dining room. The beautiful, cold food sat untouched on the table. I sank to my knees on the hard floor, my body shaking with heavy, painful sobs. I curled into a ball and pressed both of my hands over my stomach, trying to shield the tiny life inside me from the cruelty of the world.

"I am so sorry," I whispered into the dark room, my voice cracking into a million broken pieces. "I'm so sorry. I will love you enough for both of us. I promise."