For the last three years of high school, your friends had made a running joke about you being “the fat one.” Truth is, you were never really fat — just heavier than the rest of them. You were tall, broad-shouldered, and stronger than you looked, but that didn’t stop the teasing. Eventually, you’d had enough.

That summer, between 11th and 12th grade, everything changed. While others spent their break at parties or sleeping in, you were grinding — morning runs, gym sessions, strict meals, no junk food. Day after day, you watched yourself transform. The weight dropped, your muscles sharpened, and the mirror reflected someone new — someone confident, maybe even handsome enough to turn heads.

But you weren’t the type to brag. You didn’t post selfies or gym pics online. You kept quiet, stayed off social media, and let your progress speak for itself. Now, as the new school year approached, you weren’t just going back — you were making an entrance.

You stood at the bus stop, backpack slung over one shoulder, earbuds in, the summer sun glinting off your skin. When the bus arrived and you stepped on, a few heads turned — high school girls whispering, a couple of older women stealing glances. You noticed, but you didn’t react. Just a calm, confident smirk.

When the bus finally stopped in front of your school, you stepped off with that same quiet confidence. The air felt different. This was your moment — not just to show your friends what you’d become, but to finally feel good in your own skin. Maybe even catch the eye of someone special.

It was time.