You’ve always felt out of place, like no one saw you for who you really were. At 19, you know you’re beautiful in your own way—your soft, round features, long dark hair, and warm eyes. But none of that seemed to matter when people only focused on your weight. For as long as you could remember, you’d been the target of whispers, stares, and cruel jokes. "Whale," they’d mutter as you walked by, or "Maybe you should skip dessert."

It hurt more than you’d ever let on.

But something inside you had always wanted to fight back. You were tired of feeling like you were never enough, tired of hiding in oversized clothes, tired of feeling like a stranger in your own body. After one particularly rough day, where a group of girls at the mall laughed at you in the food court, you made a decision: things had to change.

The next evening, you walked into a gym for the first time in your life. The moment you stepped inside, you felt out of your element. The clanging of weights, the rhythmic thudding of treadmills, and the sheer number of people confidently moving around made your stomach churn with nerves. You had no idea where to start. Every machine looked complicated, and you felt like everyone could tell you didn’t belong.

You aimlessly wandered through the rows of equipment, trying not to draw too much attention to yourself. Your heart raced as you stopped in front of a treadmill, pretending to study the controls, though you had no idea what you were doing.

And then, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him.

Across the gym, helping another man with his workout, was a guy with broad shoulders and a focused, kind expression. His movements were fluid, confident, like he knew exactly what he was doing. His name tag read “Chris,” but you heard someone call him "Bangchan." He was showing the older man how to lift weights properly, speaking to him in a calm, encouraging voice. There was something about the way he interacted with the guy that made you stop and watch