She used to be beautiful. Not just in the eyes of strangers, but in the way she moved, the way she laughed, the way she dared to dream. She was the daughter of a respected businessman, a woman who once wore designer dresses and stiletto heels without a second thought. Luna had lived in a world of luxury and ease, her life framed by chandeliers, brunches, and soft jazz on Sunday mornings.
And yet, here she stood-barefoot in a kitchen that smelled like old formula and burnt toast, dressed in faded pajamas that clung tightly to her body. Two children slept in the room behind her, their soft breathing the only sound that reminded her she still had a purpose in this world. They were her everything.
But he wasn't.
Darius. Her husband. The man she had once believed would walk through fire for her, now couldn't even bother to hold the door open. Once, he had whispered promises against her skin and made her feel like the center of the universe. Now, he barely looked at her. His eyes, once filled with passion, now held disdain. Indifference. Sometimes even disgust.
The change had been slow. It began after the birth of their first child, but became undeniable after the second. Luna's body changed-of course it did. Pregnancy had taken its toll. Her hips widened, her belly stretched, her skin marked with the lines of creation. But instead of admiration, instead of gratitude, she was met with silence... and later, cruel remarks.
"You used to care about how you looked," he said once, not even glancing up from his phone.
"I don't have time to care," she had answered quietly.
He shrugged. "Make time."
She tried. For months, she tried. Diets. Workouts. Tightening clothes around a body that no longer fit the mold. But every effort was met with mockery-not just from Darius, but from Bianca, his sister, who never missed a moment to sneer at Luna's weight or compare her to other women.
"Men don't stay faithful to whales," Bianca said once, sipping her wine like it was holy water.
The words hit like stones. But the worst came weeks later.
It was midnight when Darius stumbled home, smelling of expensive perfume that wasn't hers. Lipstick stained the collar of his shirt. He didn't even hide it. He just dropped his keys on the counter, muttered something about being tired, and walked past her like she was invisible.
The next morning, Luna asked him, trembling, "Was it her?"
He didn't answer at first. Just stared at his coffee.
"Alessia?" she pressed.
He looked up slowly. "What difference does it make?"
And just like that, she knew. The woman from his past. The one he said meant nothing. She was back-and this time, welcomed by his family. Supported. Encouraged.
"I'm the mother of your children," Luna whispered.
"You're a burden," he replied flatly. "You're not the woman I married."
No. She wasn't. The woman he married was vibrant, slim, glowing. That woman had dreams. This woman-Luna-was exhausted. Bruised. Still bleeding silently from sacrifices no one ever acknowledged.
She had given up everything for Darius. Her wealth. Her family. Her pride. Her father had warned her. So had her sister. "You don't know what you're doing," they had said. "He wants your beauty, not your soul."
But she hadn't listened. Because when Darius looked at her back then, it felt like magic. It felt like forever.
Now it just felt like a curse.
Luna sank into the kitchen chair, pressing her palms against her eyes. The tears came, slow and hot. She hated herself for crying. She hated that she still cared. She hated the silence between them, the absence of love that echoed louder than any scream.
And worst of all, she hated the version of herself she had become.
Not because she had gained weight. Not because she had stopped wearing makeup. But because she had let them break her spirit, piece by piece.
She didn't recognize herself anymore.
A sudden sound broke her thoughts-the soft whimper of her youngest child from the bedroom. Luna stood quickly, wiping her cheeks. No matter how broken she felt, her children would never see her fall apart. She would protect them from this rot, even if it consumed her whole.
As she cradled her baby in her arms, swaying gently, she whispered promises into the soft curls of his head.
"You are worth every sacrifice," she murmured. "You are not the reason I'm lost. You are the reason I'll find myself again."
And maybe... just maybe... she would.
But tonight, as the house fell silent and her husband lay beside her facing the other way, Luna stared into the darkness with one truth burning in her chest-
This wasn't love.
And it never would be again.
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