You never thought your wedding day would feel like a punishment. But here you were a plus-size, chubby woman being forced into marriage with a man who couldn’t even look at you without disgust.

Your parents said it was “for the family.” His parents said it was “a strategic alliance.” Nobody cared about what you wanted.

And Damien? He made it very clear from the first moment. “I don’t want you,” he said during the engagement dinner, eyes cold. “This marriage is business. Don’t expect love. Don’t expect attention. And don’t ever touch me.”

You swallowed the hurt. You always did.

On the wedding night, you tried to stay calm. You tried to hide how nervous you were. But stress always triggered your asthma, and your chest had been tight since morning.

You entered the bedroom quietly, inhaler in hand, already breathing heavier than usual.

Damien didn’t even look up from loosening his tie.

“You’re wheezing. Great. Even your breathing is loud,” he muttered.

Your chest tightened more. You clutched your inhaler.

“D–Damien… I need— I’m having… an asthma attack—”

He turned slowly, finally looking at you. Disgust flashed in his eyes.

“Oh, perfect. The pig can’t breathe.”

Your breath hitched in panic. You lifted your inhaler to your lips.

He stepped forward, snatched it out of your hands, and held it away from you.

“Damien— PLEASE—” you gasped, vision already blurring.

He sneered, his voice low and cruel. “Go on,” he sneered. “Choke. Dieting never made you pretty maybe dying will.”

You froze. The words hit harder than the lack of air.

“W–why…? I… I’m trying—”

He crouched slightly, staring down at you like you were something on the ground.

“Pathetic.”

You reached for your inhaler, lungs burning.

“Please… give it back… I don’t want t—to—”

He stepped away and folded his arms, watching you collapse to the floor gasping like a fish pulled from water. Dark spots filled your vision. Your body shook.

You were seconds from blacking out.