Meera~

"I have invited some of my friends over. Make sure everything is perfect," he said in a deadly calm voice, and I understood the underlying threat in his order.

And I can't bear to defy him anymore because he has something that can ruin me more than just in front of the whole world.

I meekly nodded and walked out of his study to my room to get ready for today. I have so much to prepare and do.

After showering, I wore comfy cotton shorts and a loose t-shirt. Braiding my hair and putting my flip-flops on, I walked out of my room and went towards the kitchen.

Today, I decided to make Italian Alfredo cheese pasta along with garlic bread, accompanied by my signature tiramisu.

People envy my cooking because, at such a young age, I can cook better than anyone. And that too—delicious food.

I don't know where the time went while cooking, but it was finally done, and it's time for me to doll up and look presentable for tonight.

I took a short but fragrant shower so that I wouldn't smell and Abram wouldn't have to feel embarrassed because of me.

I wore a fuchsia pink floral short dress with a sweetheart neckline and let my brown hair loose, cascading down to my hips.

I popped my eyes with mascara and smacked my lips together as I glided the gloss over them. With a blush, I completed my look.

Sliding my feet into pink pumps, I made my way downstairs and waited for the guests. My husband was still not here, and I felt anxious that I would have to attend to the guests alone, without him.

The doorbell rang, and I got up from the sofa, moving my feet towards the door. Taking a deep breath, I opened it.

And there they were—three men, one of whom was my husband, and two women, both of whom I hate with my absolute core.

Ariana and Hannerina.

I plastered a fake smile on my face and welcomed them inside. A shiver rolled down my spine, and I bit my lip as Abram's hand touched the sliver of my waist. God.

I served all of them while they chatted. Derek, the only person I liked, offered to help, but I politely refused.

Soon, everyone was at the dining table, and just like a perfect housewife, I served all of them their plates.

And before I could sit beside my husband, Ariana sat beside him, as close as possible. I gritted my teeth. I can't let anger take over me.

I composed myself and sat beside Derek. He gave me a charming smile that could take every woman's breath away.

His brown eyes shone with gentleness and kindness. "You look lovely," he said. I replied with a thank you and a smile, feeling a little shy.

As I took a bite of my pasta, I heard Ariana’s sickeningly sweet, fake voice. "Meera, are you sick? You look so pale and sickeningly thin. Doesn’t Abram give you good food?" she said with a laugh.

I cast my eyes down in embarrassment. Should I take it as a compliment that finally, people have started to consider me thin enough? Or should I take it as an offense that she called me sick?

I don't know, but I do care—because my appearance affects Abram too, and I can't embarrass him in front of his friends.

"Hey, pretty woman, you look floral," Derek said, and I bit my lip to stop myself from smiling too wide. If I had to hear taunts, then at least God was merciful enough to let me hear a compliment from a man like Derek, even if it was given out of pity.

I laughed at something Derek said and took a bite of my tiramisu. I could feel particular eyes on me, but I tried not to look up.

Otherwise, the pretense of my bravado would vanish, and I would cower like a wounded cat. As we ate, only Derek seemed interested in chatting with me. Soon, we completed our dinner.

"Trust me, Abram, you have a gem. Meera, you are such a sweetheart cook," Derek complimented. I blushed and mumbled a small thank you to him.

Soon, everyone left, and I waved Derek out. He is such a gentleman. Such a charming and gentle personality.

I closed the gate and walked inside, towards the stairs, but suddenly, I was pulled back with force and pinned against the wall.

Blue eyes flared red, hot breath raggedly fanning my face. "Abram—wha—" I couldn't speak as he held my jaw, causing my lips to pout.

He clenched his jaw. He looked deadly, and suddenly, he shoved a piece of dessert into my pouted mouth, letting half of it fall down.

"Sweetheart, eh? Lovely, eh? You didn’t even leave my friend? You want to sleep with him too, huh?" he spat against my mouth. Tears fell from the corners of my eyes, and I shook my head, pleading with him through my eyes.

He shoved another piece, and I gagged. He smeared it around my mouth. "Eat, eat, eat, you anorexic bitch," he said and filled my mouth with more sweets.

I felt bile rise up my throat, and I ran to the sink, emptying my stomach.

I slid down onto the floor and sobbed in pain. My throat was hurting—so was my heart and my soul.

I could never satisfy anyone. Earlier, I was a fat goo, and now I am an anorexic bitch. No one will ever accept me for who I am. No one will ever love me for who I am.

"I will forever be ugly to them."

***

Love Pia.