Mid Size For The Billionaire

1- Adia

I stood in front of the mirror, wrapping the tape measure around my waist with a mixture of dread and hope. Thirty-two inches. A frustrated sigh escaped my lips as I tossed the tape aside, defeated. I moved mechanically to get dressed, feeling the familiar weight of disappointment settling over me. For as long as I could remember, I had been battling with my body—my weight, in particular. It fluctuated constantly, and losing it felt like an endless uphill climb. Just last week, my waist measured thirty-five inches, and the week before that, thirty-six. This should have felt like progress, but something always came along to derail it, undoing any sense of accomplishment.

The struggle began when I started attending high school on the other side of town. The daily commute took hours. School started at 8:30 AM, but I had to leave the house by six if I wanted to be there early enough to participate in all the extracurriculars I signed up for, hoping to be seen as the well-rounded student on college applications. It meant late nights, longer days, and stress that clung to me like a second skin. Sleep deprivation became my constant companion, and healthy meals were a luxury I could no longer afford—not with time slipping through my fingers. Even when I came home to a ready home cooked dinner from my mom, I was often too exhausted to eat. By the time I realized the toll this lifestyle had taken on my body, I was in my final year of high school.

Suddenly, my clothes didn't fit anymore. I had to get them altered just to feel comfortable in my own skin. Comments about my weight became impossible to escape, and each remark felt like a dagger, deepening my insecurities. I couldn't even bring myself to confess my feelings to Cris—the school's notorious bad boy and my secret crush. My self-worth had taken such a hit that I couldn't fathom someone like him being interested in me.

Now, five years later, I still carried the weight of that insecurity, and Cris had become a distant memory of what could've been. Somehow, I managed to date despite my mental state, though the ghosts of past self-doubt still lingered.

My thoughts shifted from Cris to my current boyfriend, Chad. We'd been together for a year, and today was his birthday. I had planned a surprise—a gesture I thought he'd love. Knowing how much he adored basketball, I'd bought us front-row tickets for tonight's game, along with two extra seats in case he wanted to invite some of his friends. It was the perfect plan, or so I thought.

It was May 31st, the last day of spring, and I dressed accordingly—a lime green top paired with black jeans and my favorite white Converse sneakers. I double-checked my purse to make sure the tickets were inside, then glanced at my phone. Seven in the evening. He'd just be getting home from work, which made it the perfect time to spring my surprise. I hadn't been able to see him all day since he'd said he was busy, so I decided to show up unannounced and make it a birthday he wouldn't forget.

The drive to his apartment complex was uneventful, and I waited until someone else was heading inside so I could slip in unnoticed. I took the elevator to the fifth floor, my heart beginning to pound with a strange mix of excitement and nerves. I knew Chad would love the gift, but surprises always made me anxious, even when everything seemed perfect.

As I walked toward his door, I heard a strange knocking sound. I hesitated, but brushed it off, thinking nothing of it. I bent down, retrieved his spare key from under the welcome mat, and unlocked the door, closing it softly behind me. What greeted me inside made my heart plummet.

A pair of women's stilettos sat carelessly in the corner of the room. My breath caught in my throat as my eyes followed the trail of discarded clothing scattered across the floor. That strange knocking sound I had heard earlier now made sense. Chad was in bed with someone else. He was cheating on me.

My mind raced. I could feel a surge of anger rising, burning hot and irrational. One part of me wanted to storm into the kitchen, boil a pot of water, and hurl it at them. Another part wanted to grab the nearest object—a bat, a lamp, anything—and make them both pay for this betrayal. But no. I wasn't going to be that person. I wouldn't let him drag me down to his level.