Chapter 56
HANNAH
One year ago…
I slip the black dress over my head, feeling it snugly around my hips. It used to fit. It used to look slim and elegant, now it’s a mess of rolls from my body because it prefers to keep the weight and then some.
Disgusted, I’m about to take it off when Liam walks in.
“Please tell me you’re not wearing that,” he remarks, slipping into the closet, swiping through jackets.
“No, I’m not.” Already hit by my own low self-esteem, I try to remove the dress, forcing it over my breasts. I hear a tear, find a rip, and toss the stupid dress aside.
Liam comes up behind, looking at us through the floor-length mirror. “What do you think of this jacket?”
He wears a black blazer, shiny gold cufflinks reflecting in the light. It fits him perfectly.
“Very handsome,” I comment, hugging my torso.
He nods. “Go with that blue dress. My parents will be at this event, so we must dress modestly.” He returns to the closet, choosing a pair of shoes.
It’s my go-to safety dress whenever previous outfits struggle to fit, and I slip it on. Plain, an ugly shade of blue, and modest, as Liam said. Because Mommy and daddy are going, and I must make sure I look like a typical housewife.
But for Liam, I’ll do it. Because for Liam, I’ll do anything.
He’s only looking out for me because he loves me.
Picking my black flats, I’m about to put my hair up when Liam stops me.
“Keep it down.” I let my hair fall, knowing he wants to keep my neck hidden because of the weight I gained so nobody points out my flaws.
Very considerate. Dabbing on some concealer, light eye shadow, and blush, Liam hands me a clear mascara tube.
“Don’t want you showing up looking too draggy. ”
“It’s just mascara,” I remind him.
“Yeah? Black makes it look trashy. My girl isn’t trashy.”
It’s the tipping point, because now I can’t wear my favorite mascara. I’m rolling it back to him. “I’ll use my own, thanks.”
“I was just suggesting, no need to be rude about it.” He’s defensive because it’s my fault.
“I wasn’t. I just want to use my own.”
“It doesn’t look good on you.”
“So?”
“Hannah, maybe you should go rest before we leave. And when you wake, make sure the attitude is gone.” He slams our bedroom door shut, hard, leaving me staring at the girl in the mirror, who looks depressed and worn out.
Bags under her eyes, hair lifeless at the ends, complexion rough and bumpy.
Her body betrays her, making it vulnerable to anyone, even to her boyfriend.
That girl is me.