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2025-09-05 18:54:39Dear Reader,
When I first dreamed of I Was More Than Pretty, I didn’t intend to write about revenge.
I intended to write about returning.
Returning to yourself.
Because so many of us — myself included — have spent years bending and breaking to be loved.
We’ve changed our faces, our voices, our truths.
We’ve smiled through pain.
We’ve stayed in rooms that drained us.
We’ve called betrayal “love” because the silence of loneliness felt worse.
And then one day, something shifts.
Not loudly.
Not with a scream.
But with a quiet thought:
“I was never the problem.”
This story is for that moment.
For the woman who’s beginning to see not her flaws, but her strength.
Not her past, but her power.
Not the lies she was told, but the truth she’s reclaiming.
Evelyn isn’t here to destroy the people who hurt her.
She’s here to outgrow them.
And if you’ve ever stood before a mirror and not recognized the woman staring back…
If you’ve ever reshaped yourself to be loved, only to lose yourself in the process…
If you’ve ever stayed too long — in a relationship, a job, a friendship — because you were afraid of what leaving would mean…
This story is for you.
You are not broken.
You are not “too much.”
You are not “not enough.”
You are here.
And that is everything.
Latest chapter
I was more than pretty No more chains
By now the air in the room was thick with the metallic tang of blood, the coppery scent clinging to every surface.Julian’s parents groaned softly, the muffled sounds of their suffering echoing faintly against the cold walls. Their eyes, wide with panic and disbelief, searched for some trace of mercy—but it was too late. Serena had already stepped back, her face pale but resolute, the calm in her demeanor in stark contrast to the chaos surrounding her.“Please… please, Serena…” Julian gasped, his voice hoarse, raw with desperation.He coughed again, spitting out a trace of blood as he struggled to speak.“You… you can’t do this! Help us! Please!”Serena’s eyes, dark and unwavering, met his for a moment. She inhaled slowly, steadying herself against the tremor that threatened to crack the surface of her control. Her voice, when it came, was calm yet
I was more than pretty A Seat at the End
When Julian made his way home that day, he drove in silence, his jaw tight, his thoughts sharper than the air pressing against the glass.Eve’s face refused to leave his mind—the calm in her eyes, the way she had spoken without fear, as though she already stood several steps ahead of him. It unsettled him more than he cared to admit.He hated that she had walked away leaving him with questions, hated that her silence felt heavier than any insult she could have thrown. By the time he reached the gates of their abode, his resolve had hardened into something cold and obsessive. He would not stop. He could not stop.Inside the house, dinner had already been set. The long table gleamed beneath the chandelier, silverware aligned with precision, plates untouched and waiting.Julian loosened his tie as he entered, the echo of his footsteps announcing his presence. His parents looked up almost in unison, their expressions expectant,
I was more than pretty Defiance in broad day
The days that followed our evening together felt almost dreamlike in their simplicity, as though life had softened its edges just for me. Every call from Soren carried warmth that lingered long after the line went silent.Every laugh we shared—easy, unforced—settled deep in my chest. Every stolen glance across a crowded room held a gravity I had never known before. It wasn’t infatuation. It wasn’t comfort. It was love—raw, steady, consuming. Love I had never felt from a man before.It wrapped itself around my days quietly, slipping into moments I didn’t expect. I would be doing something ordinary—replying emails, stirring tea, folding laundry—and suddenly I’d smile for no reason at all, my heart remembering the way his voice sounded when he said my name.Soren had changed too, in ways so subtle they might have gone unnoticed by anyone who didn’t know him well. But George noticed. His parents notic
I was more than pretty First Evening Together
The drive home felt impossibly long, yet impossibly short, as if time itself was unsure how to handle the two of us.The city blurred past like streaks of memory, the sound of the tires against the asphalt a soft sound in the background.I had been driven by Soren before, yes, during the Gala incident, but back then everything had been tense, charged with a mixture of scandal and shame. Now, it was different. Now, I was his. Officially.I couldn’t help sneaking glances at him every few minutes, as subtle as I could manage. His profile, sharp yet softened by the faint light spilling through the windshield, made my heart flutter in ways I hadn’t thought possible.His fingers, long and perfectly aligned, still held mine with that quiet possessiveness that always made me feel… anchored, safe, desired.I had cried for hours earlier in the day. But now, I had regained control of myself. No tears, no trembling, no suffocat
I was more than pretty More than enough
The office had quieted in a way that felt almost surreal after the storm of emotions that had just passed. I was still pressed against Soren’s chest, my tears soaked into his crisp shirt, my body trembling from the release of hours of pent-up fear, doubt, and longing.He held me there, and in that silence, I realized how safe I felt. Safe in a way that I hadn’t felt in years—since Julian’s betrayal, since the nights filled with confusion and heartbreak, since the moments where I thought love was nothing but a cruel trick.Soren’s hand slid slowly up again to cradle the back of my head, his thumb brushing along my temple as if to soothe not just my body, but every scar I carried inside.“Eve,” he murmured, voice low, intimate, and utterly grounding. “Please look at me.”I lifted my tear-streaked face slowly, still unsure, still hesitant, and our eyes met. The intensity
I was more than pretty The Day I Chose Him
I woke up the next morning with a strange stillness inside me.It wasn’t peace.It wasn’t certainty either.It was resolve.The kind that settles quietly after a long war, when your heart is tired of running in circles and your mind finally whispers, enough. I lay on my bed for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, again. The cracks there seemed more familiar than usual, like old companions who had witnessed too many of my sleepless nights. Outside my window, the city was waking up slowly—car horns in the distance, a vendor calling out, the faint hum of life continuing whether I was ready or not.My chest felt tight. Too tight. Like something fragile was being held together by sheer will. But beneath that tightness was something else—steady, unyielding. Something that refused to be shaken no matter how hard fear tried to claw its way back in.I knew what I had to do.The knowing didn’t arri
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