Reborn

Chapter 1

Mark, my boyfriend of ten years, was the definition of perfect… almost.

Handsome, successful, the only real flaw was his constant need to tear me down.

If I got second place instead of first, he’d call me “not smart enough.”

When I finally earned some money from my writing, he’d dismiss it as “worthless drivel.”

Then, in the bridal shop, when Mark criticized my figure, saying I didn’t look anything like a bride in the dress, I finally snapped.

For the first time, I screamed at him, “If you think I’m so awful, then don’t marry me!”

1.

In the bridal shop, the moment I stepped out of the dressing room, even strangers gasped.

The saleswoman smiled, “Jennifer, you look stunning! The dress was made for you!”

“Your fiancé is going to be blown away, honey,” she continued.

“We’ll see about that,” I replied. “He has pretty high standards.”

After all, we’d been together for a decade, and Mark had always been critical, never offering a single word of praise.

But today, looking in the mirror, I saw a slender waist, fair skin, a vision that perfectly complemented the gown.

Maybe Mark would finally be impressed?

Would he compliment me? Think I was beautiful? Be speechless, like the other guys in the shop?

Filled with hope, I nervously tugged at Mark’s sleeve.

But my expectations were crushed in an instant.

2.

Mark turned, looked me up and down, and the first thing he said was, “Jen, you’re still too heavy.”

My smile froze, even the saleswoman seemed uncomfortable.

“Your face is puffy, arms are thick, you have wide shoulders and a stocky waist… it doesn’t look good.”

Mark sighed, “Honestly, you don’t look like a bride at all.”

His voice wasn’t loud, but everyone in the shop could hear him.

All sorts of glances landed on me: pitying, mocking, amused…

In that moment, I felt like an object being scrutinized, not a person.

Tears welled up, my chest tightened.

I’d been working out every day, just like Mark wanted, just to fit into this dress.

For three months, I’d barely eaten, lost twenty pounds, all to look my best on our wedding day.

Why was he doing this?

Maybe it was the hunger making me emotional, or the devastating feeling of shattered hopes.

Whatever it was, after ten years, I’d had enough.

I ripped off the veil and screamed at him, “If you think I’m not good enough, then don’t marry me!”

“That’s right, I don’t look like a bride, so the wedding’s off!”

With Mark staring in shock, I took a deep breath and finally said the words that had been swirling in my mind for so long:

“Mark, we’re done. I’m breaking up with you.”

3.

My best friend, Ashley, picked me up, and I still couldn’t stop crying.

The news that the wedding was off spread like wildfire on social media, and everyone was asking what happened.

The most common comment was, “Jennifer, are you sure you and Mark haven’t just had a misunderstanding?”

“He’s such a great guy, you won’t find another one like him.”

Even my mom sided with Mark. “I talked to Mark. He said it was just a little thing, honey, don’t let it get to you.”

And Mark sent me three words: “Don’t be silly.”

Clutching my phone, I felt a wave of helplessness wash over me.

No one understood.

To everyone else, Mark was the perfect boyfriend.

Handsome, successful, made good money, and hadn’t cheated on me in ten years.

His only flaw was his habit of putting me down.

We’d been childhood friends, practically raised together.

He was the “golden boy,” always excelling.

But fate was cruel. He had a bad family.

His mom died early, and his dad was a workaholic who barely paid him any attention except when he won an award.

As a result, Mark matured quickly.

While the other kids were playing in the mud, Mark was competing in math contests and winning.

His unhappy family life turned him cold. I was the only one he let his guard down with and showed his sharp tongue.

If I got second place, he’d knock me on the head and say I was “not smart enough.” He’d point at my mistakes and scold me for “getting such easy questions wrong.”

All through my childhood, my mom would always say, “Look at Mark! Always getting top marks, winning everything.”

I grew up in Mark’s shadow.

I hated the way he put me down and my mom’s constant comparisons.

But during our awkward teenage years, people called us “frenemies.”

They said that Mark treated me that way because he liked me.

Even when Mark confessed, he said, “Jennifer, if I didn’t care, why would I push you so hard?”

It was the first time he’d spoken to me so gently, his eyes full of smiles.

The others encouraged us, so I brushed my worries away.

And so, I ended up dating Mark.

Ten years flew by.

4.

Ashley was my best friend from college and the only one who supported my decision to break up.

Once, in college, Mark and I were supposed to study together at the library.

Getting up at seven on the weekend wasn’t easy, and even though I rushed, I was still two minutes late.

Mark crossed his arms and frowned. “Jennifer, can’t you be on time for once?”

“What if you had an important meeting? A multi-million dollar deal?”

I started to apologize, but Ashley pulled me behind her.

“Getting up early on the weekend to study with you is inhuman. Jen did great just showing up!”

“And she was two minutes late, sheesh. Get over it!”

From that moment on, Mark and Ashley didn’t get along.

Ashley loved praising me. If I got the second-highest GPA, she’d say something. If I passed my exams, she’d celebrate. She’d tell me “Good job!” when I got up early.

She’d say, “Don’t listen to Mark, girl, you’re awesome!”

It was the kind of encouragement I had never gotten.

I loved being around Ashley.

But Mark sneered at it. “She only says that to make you conceited so you don’t see your flaws.”

“Being humble is how you see your flaws. Being direct is how I help you.”

When talking about Ashley, Mark would frown slightly.

I knew that’s how he acted when he was upset. I knew I’d be scolded.

I wanted to tell him she wasn’t like that. But I was afraid. I didn’t dare.

I was too scared of Mark’s anger and his criticisms.

When Ashley heard about this, she just sighed. “Being controlled is hard to get out of.”

“Just take it slow.”

So, Ashley was thrilled when she heard I had decided to break up with Mark.

She hugged me and whispered, “Congrats, Jen, you’re finally free.”

5.

Ashley took me to her place and let me stay in the spare room.

She led me inside, eyes sparkling. “Do you like the room? I decorated it just the way you like it!”

I stared at the pink wallpaper, the Mickey Mouse desk, and a Raggedy Ann doll. I felt like I was in a fog.

Since living with Mark, how long had it been since I’d seen things like this?

Mark was a minimalist. Everything was black, white, and gray.

He’d scoff at my love of pink and dolls, saying, “Jennifer, you have such bad taste.”

My eyes started to water again. I hugged Ashley and cried.

If Mark was a nightmare, then Ashley was a gift from heaven.

6.

I went to our house to get my stuff.

But when I got there, Mark was home.

He sat on the couch and lazily looked at me. “Had enough? Are you back?”

I tried not to let my voice shake. “I’m serious. I’m breaking up with you.”

“I came to get my stuff.”

Surprisingly, Mark didn’t say anything, he just sat there, legs crossed, hands clasped, watching me with a half-smile.

I ignored it and started packing.

I didn’t have much. A few personal items.

Mark had bought most of the stuff in the house.

When we moved in together, he wrinkled his nose at my colorful toothbrush and towel.

“Jennifer, your stuff looks so ugly,” he said.

The next day, he threw it all away.

I complained, but he said, “Your stuff is too tacky. I threw it out.”

That’s when I first wanted to break up.

Why did personal taste have to be better than other’s?

But my mom told me, “You should just listen to him. You’ve been together for so long, hon. Don’t break up over something so small.”

I didn’t do anything.

But I realized that it wasn’t a small thing.

Feeling bad shouldn’t be a small thing.

7.

The only thing I liked about this place was my writing corner.

A desk, a lamp, a computer, where I created so much.

I’d always loved writing, but Mark told me to “get a real job.”

But when I went to college, I started writing again, and Mark was my first reader.

I hoped that he would like my work, but he just said, “Your writing is terrible, it’s worthless.”

“You’re not good at writing, just give up.”

But I loved writing, so for the first time, I didn’t listen.

I kept writing, and I got good.

When I got my first payment, I showed it off to Mark. “My writing got me money! Three hundred dollars!”

I wanted to show him that people read my writing, and that they even payed for it.

I wanted to show him that I wasn’t as bad as he said I was.

What was Mark’s reaction?

He quickly skimmed it, then said, “Worthless garbage.”

He looked down at me, his eyes full of ridicule. “People are just being nice and trying to encourage you.”

“Do you really think you’re a good writer?”

His words broke my heart.

After that, I didn’t tell Mark about how much money I made.

I took a deep breath and went to put my computer away, but it was already turned on.

When I turned on the screen, all my files were gone!

One hundred thousand words were gone! It had all my work, all my thoughts.

Only one person could do this…

Mark appeared behind me, watching me with dark eyes.

“I deleted your writing. It’s a waste of time.”

“You think you can leave me because of that?”

8.

I froze, staring at the screen.

I looked awful, sad, and I was crying.

What had ten years with Mark done to me?

Mark kept talking, “You think you’re good just because you write? Jennifer, I’m helping you, you can’t even take my criticism.”

“You are too heavy, I’m just pointing it out, why are you upset?”

“I’m helping you.”

After saying something bad, Mark always said that he was “helping” me.

But I was sick of it.

Even though I’d decided to fight back, I still started shaking and crying. “Can’t you ever say something good about me?”