Chapter 1

My bedroom was pitch-black except for the harsh blue light of my phone screen, which seemed determined to burn straight through my eyes. Half-unpacked moving boxes were stacked around the room, taking up most of the space beside my messy desk and the bed I hadn't bothered making in three days.

Outside, the street was unusually quiet. It was Friday night, which meant most college freshmen were probably out at house parties, squeezing into cars for late-night taco runs, or hanging out in crowded dorm rooms with their friends. Meanwhile, I was curled up on the corner of my mattress, my knees pulled against my chest and my body swallowed by a faded, double-XL men's hoodie. The oversized fabric was practically a tent, but I liked it that way. It helped hide every part of my body I wished I could change.

I scrolled through I*******m, although I knew I would only end up feeling worse.

My feed was filled with pictures of people having the kind of lives I could only watch from a distance. A girl from my morning lecture had posted a beach photo in a bikini, laughing with her friends, her sun-kissed skin glowing and her waist looking impossibly tiny. Another group from my building had posted pictures from a campus tailgate, huddled together with beers in their hands and huge smiles on their faces. They looked like they had been best friends forever.

Then I came across a girl who lived down my hall. She was petite and toned, wearing a tiny cropped sweater that showed off her perfectly flat stomach. Her caption read, Spontaneous nights are the best nights!

I stared at the picture for a few seconds before locking my phone and dropping it face down on the duvet. The dark screen reflected my face, leaving me with an uncomfortable reminder of the things I spent so much time trying not to think about.

I raised a hand to my face, tracing the heavy curve of my double chin before moving my fingers over my full cheeks and down to my broad shoulders. I was fat. Not the kind of soft, perfectly proportioned curvy that clothing brands loved showcasing in glossy magazines, but genuinely fat. My thighs rubbed together whenever I walked, my stomach spilled over the waistband of my jeans, and my arms always seemed too big for the clothes I wanted to wear. Sometimes, I felt like I took up far too much space everywhere I went.

Being a plus-size girl in college wasn't easy, especially in a world where fat women were either invisible or treated like a joke. It often felt as though I had a neon sign hanging over my head, warning people not to bother getting to know me.

High school had been easier in that regard. I'd managed to blend into the background, keeping my head down, focusing on my grades, and hiding behind baggy clothes and art supplies. College was supposed to be different. I'd imagined it as a fresh start, a chance to finally stop hiding and put myself out there.

Instead, I'd somehow managed to build an even bigger wall around myself.

The silence in the house wasn't helping either. Ever since my parents finalized their divorce six months ago, everything in my life had felt like it was slowly falling apart. My dad had practically disappeared two states away with his new girlfriend, while my mom worked fifty hours a week just to keep us afloat. On the rare evenings when she had some free time, she'd usually go out, probably trying to forget that her marriage had fallen apart.

We'd sold our old house, the only place I'd ever truly felt safe and at home, and moved into this cramped rental that still smelled of wet paint and cheap carpet. Nothing about it felt familiar, and no matter how many boxes we unpacked, it never really felt like home.

"You need to put yourself out there, Nicole," my mom had told me over dinner a few nights earlier. Her voice had been heavy with exhaustion and guilt. "Make some friends. Enjoy your youth before it passes you by."

She made it sound so easy, as though I could simply switch off the voice in my head that constantly reminded me how different I looked from other girls. Every time I walked into the campus dining hall, I became painfully aware of my weight. I was always convinced someone was watching what I put on my plate, judging my outfit, or silently wondering how much I ate. Sometimes, I even imagined people looking at me with pity, as though being fat automatically meant I had something to be ashamed of.

And boys? They were an entirely different problem. Guys my age seemed to look straight through me, as though I wasn't even there. Whenever a guy at a party glanced in my direction, I immediately assumed he was actually looking at the prettier, slimmer girl standing behind me. I'd never been kissed, never been taken on a proper date, and never had a guy make me feel genuinely desirable.

I flipped my phone over and checked my notifications again, hoping something might have changed while I was busy feeling sorry for myself. Nothing. No text messages, no missed calls, not even a random notification to break the silence.

A heavy knot formed in my stomach. The loneliness had become so familiar that I almost didn't notice how much it weighed on me anymore. It was always there, a dull ache that followed me around even when I tried to distract myself. I wasn't even desperate for romance. I just wanted someone to talk to, someone who would listen to my jokes, stay up with me discussing random things, and ask how my day went without first looking at my body and deciding what kind of person I was.

My thumb hovered over the App Store before I finally opened it. Without giving myself enough time to change my mind, I typed chat app into the search bar.

I scrolled past the popular dating apps. Most of them required several pictures, including full-body photos, and some even wanted me to link my I*******m account or share my location with people within a five-mile radius. The thought of putting myself out there like that made me uncomfortable, so I kept looking until I found a less popular app built around anonymous profiles and conversation prompts.

Its tagline caught my attention.

Talk to people who care about who you are, not what you look like.

I stared at the words for a moment, reading them again. Maybe it was silly, but something about them made me feel a little hopeful.

What do I have to lose? I thought, feeling a strange mixture of excitement and nervousness stirring in my chest. It's not like anyone in my real life has to know. I can just be a voice.

Before I could overthink it, I tapped D******d.

As the little icon slowly filled up, I held my phone tightly in both hands, wondering what I was getting myself into. I knew it was an impulsive decision, but for the first time in a while, I had something to look forward to. Maybe nothing would come of it. Maybe I'd have a few conversations and eventually get bored. But there was also a chance that I might meet someone who actually wanted to know me without caring about what I looked like.

And honestly, that was all I wanted.

I just wanted someone to see me, even if it was only through a screen.