A Size Too Big For Him

Chapter 1: A New Beginning

Clara Windly had never really known what it felt like to be free. People talked about freedom like it was something that could be seized—freedom to be yourself, to walk into a room without fear, to love without judgment. For Clara, freedom had always been something far beyond her reach. It was a word she had heard a thousand times in therapy, but it never seemed real. Not with the life she had known.

The life with a mother who made her feel like nothing she did was ever good enough. A mother who'd whispered cruel words in her ear since she could remember—words that stuck like nails in her chest. "You're too fat. Too lazy. No one will ever love you."

But it wasn't just the words. It was the looks. The silent treatment. The daily undermining of her confidence, her self-worth, her very sense of being.

The last time Clara saw her mother, she had been driven to the edge. The memory still haunted her—the way her mother's eyes had turned cold and calculating, the rage bubbling under her breath as she threw a glass at Clara's head. That night had been the breaking point. For the first time in years, Clara had seen her own reflection not as a weak, insecure girl, but as someone who was surviving, someone who could fight back. She knew it was time to leave, before something worse happened.

So, at 19, she packed up what little she could fit in a bag and left. She fled the chaos of her past and moved halfway across the country, to a small town called Bridge Town. It was quiet here—small enough to feel safe, but big enough that she wouldn't have to worry about being recognized. Her mother wouldn't follow her here. She couldn't.

The bus ride to Bridge Town had been long and uncomfortable, her nerves twisting with the uncertainty of starting over. Clara had always been the girl who blended into the background—always sitting on the edges of things, always out of the spotlight. She'd spent years under her mother's thumb, letting the world tell her she was too much, too loud, too big. It wasn't just the abuse—her body had always been a source of shame. Clara was a plus-sized girl in a world that seemed to value only thinness, and she had learned early on that her body was a problem. But leaving her mother had been the first step in reclaiming some sense of herself. She wasn't running away just from her mother, she was running toward something—toward the possibility that she might be able to live a life without fear.

The thought of her mother's voice—sharp, judgmental, always demanding—still echoed in her head. But it was distant now. Clara had to believe it was over. For once, she had made a choice. And that choice had brought her here.

The morning after arriving in Bridge Town, Clara woke up in her dingy apartment, the sound of an old air conditioner rattling in the window. It was far from luxurious—just a small one-bedroom on the third floor of a crumbling building, its faded yellow paint peeling off in flakes like forgotten memories. The kitchen was barely functional, the fridge old and humming constantly, and the bathroom smelled faintly of mildew, but it was hers. She had saved every penny for months to afford this place—her only option after leaving behind her mother's oppressive grip.

Clara sat up in bed slowly, stretching her arms, feeling the ache in her bones as the sun crept in through the dust-covered window. Her hair was a mess, tangled in a wild knot from a restless sleep. She ran her fingers through the frizzy curls, grimacing slightly as she worked the tangles loose. There was something comforting about the disarray of it all—she had never been one to fuss over her appearance, not when there were bigger battles to fight.

Her reflection in the cracked mirror above the dresser made her sigh. She was tired, always tired, and no matter how much she wanted to escape it, she still saw the same girl staring back at her—the plus-sized girl with thick thighs, soft arms, and a stomach that never quite flattened no matter how many times she tried. But today... today she wasn't going to hide from it. She was free, finally free. And if she wasn't going to show the world who she really was, who would?

Clara slid into a well-worn oversized sweater, the fabric soft and familiar against her skin. It wasn't much—no fancy clothes or new outfits—but it was enough. Her jeans were a pair of faded black denim that had seen better days, but they fit just right, hugging her thighs in a way that made her feel a little more comfortable with herself. She didn't have the money for anything more glamorous, and honestly? It didn't matter. The world was going to see her as she was. And for the first time in a long time, that idea didn't scare her.

Clara grabbed her backpack, stuffed with textbooks and a few odds and ends, and headed out the door, locking it behind her. Her old car—a beat-up, rusty sedan that had been handed down from her uncle—was parked outside, its faded blue paint chipped and scratched from years of neglect. Her mom had hated the car, of course. "Why do you drive that piece of junk?" she would sneer. But Clara had saved up every penny she could find to buy it, and it was her escape, her connection to a world where she didn't have to answer to anyone. It wasn't much, but it was something. She climbed in and cranked the engine, the sound of the sputtering car making her wince. It didn't matter. It ran.

As she drove through the sleepy streets of Bridge Town, Clara tried to quiet the nerves fluttering in her stomach. The town was quiet, peaceful even, but she couldn't help but feel like she didn't quite belong here. Not yet, at least. There were no signs of her past here, no memories that could trigger her anxiety. But that didn't stop the shadows of her mother's words from lingering at the edge of her thoughts.

As Clara approached the main street of Riverstone University, she noticed a few students milling about. They were laughing, chatting, and carrying on as if they had all the time in the world. She envied their ease, their confidence. For someone who had always felt like an outsider, it was hard to imagine herself fitting in.

But this was her fresh start. No one here knew her. No one knew the broken girl who had spent years in her mother's shadow, who had fought to survive a world that told her she wasn't good enough. Here, she could be whoever she wanted to be.

As Clara came to a stop at a red light near the campus, she glanced over to the car next to her—a sleek, black sports car that gleamed in the sunlight. The kind of car that screamed money, the kind of car she could never afford. It was parked next to her at the light, the engine purring like a predator waiting to spring.

She instinctively turned her head to look, and when her eyes met the driver's, her breath hitched.

He was beautiful. There was no other word for it. Dark, messy hair that fell into his eyes, sharp cheekbones, a jawline that could cut glass. His skin was deeply tanned, like he'd spent hours under the sun, and his eyes—those eyes—were the color of fresh spring leaves. They were a piercing green, glowing with intensity, and they locked onto hers in a way that made her heart race, her pulse thumping in her ears.

It was like electricity sparked between them, a raw, undeniable connection that made her skin tingle.

She froze, unable to look away, her heart thudding in her chest. She couldn't explain it. She couldn't explain the pull she felt toward him—how her body reacted, like some unseen force was drawing her in. She knew she should look away, but she couldn't.

Then, just as quickly as the moment passed, a loud voice shattered the spell.

"Hey, Alec! The light's green! Move your ass!" The voice was high-pitched, screechy voice, and came from the passenger seat.

Clara turned her head quickly, startled by the interruption, and finally saw the most draw dropping girl lounging in the passenger seat with her feet resting on the dashboard. The girl's legs were long and slender, draped over the dash like she owned the whole damn vehicle. Her smile was wide, her teeth perfectly white, and her eyes were narrowed in amusement.

Alec—the gorgeous guy—glanced over at the girl, flashing her a smirk, before his attention snapped back to Clara. The moment lingered just a fraction longer, and for the briefest second, Clara saw something flicker in his gaze. Something... almost like curiosity.

But before she could register the feeling, he turned away and revved the engine, taking off as the light finally changed.

Clara sat there for a moment, stunned. The buzzing feeling in her chest hadn't quite faded. Who was that guy? And why had he looked at her like that?