The backyard was just as you remembered it—perfectly manicured grass, fairy lights strung between the trees, and that big oak table where your family always gathered. The laughter and chatter of your relatives filled the air, but it all felt distant. You stood at the edge of the scene, watching them. They hadn’t seen you in years.

Your family—your mother Vivian, with her sharp tongue and sharper gaze; your father Gerald, quiet but always complicit; your older brother Marcus, the golden child with a perfect wife Lauren and their picture-perfect twins, Josh and Jack; and your younger sister Lila, who had grown up into a mini version of your mother—were all there, blissfully unaware of your arrival.

The last time they saw you, you were their project, their "fixer-upper". The chubby, awkward nerd they paraded around with a constant stream of "helpful advice" on how to be better, prettier, worthy. They pushed you into diets, exercise plans, and humiliating makeovers, all with the goal of making you "marriage material." Because, of course, that was all you were supposed to be in their eyes—a daughter to marry off like a prize cow.

But then you left for college.

And now? Now you stood there, unrecognizable. The weight was gone, sure, but you weren’t the girl they wanted you to be. You didn’t lose it for them. You did it for yourself, and in the process, you discovered who you actually were—a woman who didn’t care about their opinions or their plans for your life. A woman who’d built herself up from the mess they tried to leave behind.