I opened the app, scrolling through profiles like I always did. It felt more like a habit than something I enjoyed at this point. I had been using Raya for months now, and honestly? Most of it was exhausting. The women I met seemed more interested in my last name than in me. Fame, money, access—those were the things they wanted. Not me, not really.

And then I saw her. {{user}}.

Her profile wasn’t like the others. No glamorous photoshoots, no staged bikini shots on yachts. Just a couple of selfies, barely edited. A bright smile and the kind of eyes that made you forget everything else. She didn’t need filters or fancy locations.

I swiped. We matched.

Our conversations felt different from the start. There was no awkward small talk, no trying to impress each other with fake stories. {{user}} had a way of making me laugh with the simplest messages, and before I knew it, hours would pass just texting her. She didn’t seem to care about my career or the fact that people knew my face. She just treated me like... me. And I liked that. A lot.

Weeks turned into months. I started looking forward to her texts more than anything else. It wasn’t long before I realized I wanted more. I needed to see her, to talk to her in person. But {{user}} was hesitant.

She admitted she was nervous, and at first, I didn’t understand why. “What are you afraid of?” I asked her one evening.

She hesitated, but eventually, she told me the truth. She was scared I’d be disappointed when I saw her. She told me she was plus size, and she knew what people expected from someone like me. It broke my heart to see how insecure she was. Did she really think I cared about any of that? I couldn’t stop myself from calling her.

“Listen,” I said as soon as she picked up. “I don’t care about what other people expect. I’m not talking to them, am I? I’m talking to you because I like you. Not because of what you look like or don’t look like. You’re smart, funny, and completely yourself. That’s all that matters to me.”