“Make sure to bring the girls to Claire and my wedding. Your invitation includes a +1, but we both know your social life is empty.” That was so typical of Max. After nearly thirteen years of marriage and two daughters—ages ten and three—he had decided my physical appearance no longer met his standards. “You’ve let yourself go,” he had stated casually. Then I found out about Claire, his personal trainer. When I confronted him regarding the affair, Max offered no remorse. “What were you expecting? Men are visual creatures, and Claire is flawless.” I stood silently in our master bedroom as he filled his suitcases. “You’re walking away because of my weight?” “You used to have a defined waistline, Ronnie. When was the last time you actually scrutinized your reflection?” Following that conversation, I inspected myself endlessly. My abdomen. My arms. My profile from every angle. I constantly changed outfits because Max’s harsh critiques echoed in my head. When he later announced his upcoming wedding to Claire, I considered staying home, but our oldest daughter kept asking if I would attend. So I agreed. Spotting the +1 on the invitation, I suddenly felt the urge to show Max that I was thriving—more than thriving. That impulse is how I found myself standing next to my colleague Edward’s desk early Monday morning. “I need a favor.” He looked up from his screen. “That sounds like it’s going to cost me.” “Accompany me to my ex-husband’s wedding.” “As moral support?” “As my boyfriend.” He blinked in surprise. “A fake boyfriend,” I quickly added. “Ah. Much healthier.” Edward had turned into one of my most trusted confidants during the bitter divorce. He was a good listener who never tried to force quick fixes, showed up with coffee when the final papers were signed, and once stopped me from sending an angry text to Max that I would have regretted. Besides that, he was tall, athletic, and strikingly handsome—the exact sort of man who would immediately catch Max’s attention. “Why choose me?” Edward inquired. I tried to laugh it off. “Because you’re exceptionally photogenic.” He kept his gaze fixed on me. “Veronica.” I let out a breath. “I want Max to see me with you and regret letting me go.” Edward leaned back in his chair. For reasons I couldn’t guess, my answer seemed to trouble him. Even so, he nodded. “Alright.” I should have questioned why he agreed so easily. Instead, I spent the entire week stressing over my attire. Max’s conditioning ran deep; I discarded dress after dress, hearing his old comments about my arms and waist. In the end, I picked the dress I genuinely loved before letting his voice dictate my choices. Edward arrived to pick me up on Saturday, and I noticed a large cardboard box tucked in the back of his vehicle. “What’s that?” “Just some items for donation.” I didn’t press further. The wedding venue was massive—overflowing with floral arrangements, white linens, champagne towers, and far too many chandeliers. Our daughters were thrilled by the spectacle. Then, Max spotted us. His eyes shifted from me to Edward and back again. For one deeply satisfying moment, he was completely speechless. Claire stood beside him draped in a fitted white gown, looking stunning. I despised that seeing her still stung. Max walked over. “So this is your mystery plus-one?” “Max, this is Edward.” Edward extended a hand. “Congratulations.” Max looked him up and down, then let out a sharp, genuine laugh that drew the attention of nearby guests. “What’s so funny?” I demanded. “Him?” Max looked around as if seeking agreement from the crowd. “Your boyfriend?” Claire lightly touched his arm. “Max.” He brushed her off. “I don’t buy it for a second. Nobody would date you—especially not a guy like him.” Heat rushed to my cheeks. Then he flashed that familiar grin he always used when masking cruelty as humor. “What did you do, hire him for the afternoon?” For half a second, I was back in our bedroom watching him pack, wishing I could vanish. But Edward didn’t raise his voice; he simply smiled. “Actually, Max, I brought you a wedding present.” Max looked surprised. “For me?” “Especially for you.” Edward turned toward me. “Give me five minutes.” With that, he walked back outside. Max smirked, watching him go. “I knew it.” True to his word, Edward returned five minutes later carrying the cardboard box from his car, setting it down on an unoccupied table. “For the groom.” Max chuckled. “You were serious.” “Go ahead and open it.” By this point, several guests were watching. When Max opened the box, his smirk vanished. Inside lay an enormous pair of trousers. He pulled them out, bewildered. “What is this?” “My old pants,” Edward replied. Max glanced between Edward and the oversized clothing. “You actually wore these?” “Yes.” Edward took them back. “I used to carry a lot more weight.” Max frowned. “So what?” Edward turned his attention to me. “Veronica knows part of this backstory.” I stared at him in confusion. “I do?” “About three years ago, before we were friends, someone brought birthday cake into the office breakroom. When offered a slice, I refused, saying, ‘People who look like my size don’t need cake.’” The memory rushed back. I had been having an awful week with Max and blurted out without thinking, “Funny. My husband says things like that to me.” Edward’s expression had softened back then. I told him, “I hate hearing it from him, and I don’t care to hear it from you either.” I had grabbed my piece of cake and walked away, practically forgetting the exchange. Clearly, Edward hadn’t. “That interaction stuck with me,” he admitted. Max looked impatient. “What is the point of this story?” Edward draped the trousers over his arm. “The point is that Veronica never dictated what I should weigh. She never implied my worth depended on my physical form. She simply made me realize I had adopted the exact same cruel inner dialogue that someone else was using against her.” A quiet hush fell over the listening guests. Edward went on. “I stopped putting my life on hold until I felt acceptable. Eventually, my habits shifted, and my body changed right along with them.” Max smirked again. “So Veronica inspired you to get in shape. Fantastic.” “No,” Edward interrupted firmly. “That completely misses the point.” Max’s smile faltered. “She didn’t fix me. There was nothing fundamentally wrong with me that required fixing before I was allowed to enjoy my own life.” Claire looked at Max, then at me. Max gave an awkward chuckle. “What does any of this have to do with us?” Edward handed him the trousers. “Because you looked at me tonight and assumed my appearance validated your judgment of Veronica.” Max shrugged. “It does.” Edward held his ground. “Then why are you still working so desperately to prove it?” Max’s smile finally vanished entirely. Moments later, Edward asked me to step out into the hallway. His expression had grown serious. “Veronica, Max was entirely wrong about you. But there’s something I should have confessed before we came here.” “What is it?” “You brought me along because you thought showing up with an attractive man would prove a point to Max.” My face warmed. “I know.” “I agreed because I hoped you would eventually realize it wouldn’t prove anything at all.” I stared at him in disbelief. “You could have warned me before dragging me through this wedding.” “You’re right.” No excuses, no arguments. Just that. I walked further down the corridor because I refused to break down where Max could see. Edward followed, keeping a respectful distance, until a small voice called out. “Mom?” Our oldest daughter stood nearby. I quickly wiped beneath my eye. “Hey sweetie.” She glanced toward the reception hall. “Why did Dad say nobody would date you?” I knelt down to her eye level. “He was being unkind.” She processed this for a moment. “So Edward isn’t actually your boyfriend?” “No.” “Then why did you pretend he was?” For a second, a comforting lie would have been easier. Instead, I offered her the truth. “Because I wanted your dad to think someone cared about me.” She frowned. “Well, we wanted you here with us.” I had no words. She wrapped her arms around me, and that single sentence offered more comfort than anything Edward or Max had said all night. After she trotted back to the party, Edward remained nearby. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m still annoyed with you.” “Fair enough.” “You definitely owe me.” “Also fair.” “Start by getting those pants out of my ex-husband’s wedding.” He lifted the box. “Best fake date you’ve ever had.” “Only fake date I’ve ever had.” “Still undefeated.” I couldn’t help but laugh. Shortly after, I gathered the girls to leave. As we neared the exit, Max called out my name. “So, what happens now with you and Edward?” I paused and turned around. Even now, he craved validation. If Edward wanted me, Max could measure my worth by it; if not, he could judge that too. “You really need to know, don’t you?” Without waiting for a reply, I kept walking. Outside, my older daughter lingered by the car door, smoothing her dress. “Mom?” “Yeah?” “Does this outfit look strange on me?” The casual tone made the question sting even more. I could have rushed to reassure her, but instead I asked, “Do you like wearing it?” She looked down, spun around once, and watched the skirt flare around her knees. “Yeah, I do.” “Then that’s the only opinion that matters.” She smiled and hopped into the car, followed by her little sister, who immediately left a smudge of frosting on the door panel. “I’m sticky.” I chuckled. “You certainly are.” After buckling them in, I walked around to the driver’s side. My reflection stared back from the tinted window. For a brief second, Max’s old voice echoed in my mind: When was the last time you actually looked at yourself in the mirror? So I looked. But this time, I didn’t inspect my waist. I didn’t turn sideways. I didn’t worry about what Max would criticize or whether Edward would approve. I simply looked at myself. Then my three-year-old shouted from the back seat, “Mom! Let’s go!” I smiled, opened the car door, and climbed inside.
