My Girl [Elsha - Aris]

Rain sounded on the broken pavement, cold and pitiless, as I sat on the curb in front of the gas station, my heart sinking a little more with each buzz of my phone. One cruel message from Jace lit up the screen:

“We’re done. I can’t be with you when you’re like this anymore.”

His words cut deeper than the cold. My fingers shook as I gazed at the illuminated text. The girl I’d been — the one who laughed, who believed — felt buried under layers of shame and doubt. The rain blurred the surroundings, but I could feel the needles that stung my flesh with each sharp raindrop.

“Why?” I said to the empty street, my voice cracking. “Is it really because of me? Because of this…” I wrapped my oversized coat even more tightly around my body, the weight of his rejection too heavy for even my leather jacket to shield. Chubby. Ugly. Not enough.

“Nova, you there?” a voice interrupted my downward spiral. I barely noticed at first, but then I saw a shape move next to me—tall, silent, standing near enough to feel the warmth emanating from him, though rain didn’t tamp down the cold air.

I looked up, waiting for condemnation, mockery, but instead I saw silent surveillance.His eyes glinted faintly under the dim streetlight—something calm, maybe even kind. I thought he’d speak for a moment, but he didn’t. Instead, he merely stood there, allowing me to drown in my pain without words.

I bit my tongue, the words savage despite my tears. “I’ll make him regret this. I swear I will.” The vow was like a spark in the dark — fragile but alive.

The figure didn’t move as I pushed myself to my feet. He disappeared into the night before I could ask him a question. I didn’t even have a chance to thank him for merely being there.

****

The next morning, sunlight streamed weakly through Talia’s bedroom window, cutting in pale ribbons across the floral wallpaper. I sat curled on her lumpy old couch, knees pulled to my chest, clutching a chipped mug of lukewarm coffee like it was a life preserver in an emotional shipwreck.

The silence between us wasn’t awkward — it never was. But it felt heavy, like we were both waiting for me to say the thing I hadn’t figured out how to say yet.

Talia — my best friend since second grade, partner in chaos, keeper of secrets — was sprawled across her bed in a tangle of sheets, scrolling through her phone like nothing had changed. Except everything had.

Her sandy hair fell in lazy waves across her shoulder, and her green eyes flicked up, scanning me like she was reading every thought I wasn’t speaking out loud.

“So,” she said, her tone light but sharp, “Mr. Perfect dumps you because you don’t fit his ‘ideal’? Classic.”

I sighed into my coffee. “Can we not call him Mr. Perfect? It’s starting to feel ironic.”

She tossed her phone onto the nightstand with a soft thud. “Fine. Mr. Shallow. Mr. Emotionally Unavailable. Mr. Needs Therapy. Better?”

I let out a snort, the smallest flicker of amusement breaking through my exhaustion. “Accurate.”

Talia rolled onto her stomach, propping her chin on her hands. “Seriously, Nova, screw him. You are smart, hilarious, beautiful — and okay, maybe you’ve been in your slouchy era lately, but that’s called being a human being. Not a crime.”

“I just…” My throat tightened. “I look in the mirror and I don’t know who I see. I feel like I’ve been disappearing, and he just… confirmed it.”

She sat up at that, all the teasing gone from her face. “Hey. Stop right there.”

I met her eyes, hating how watery mine were. “What if I try to change, and it still doesn’t matter? What if I’m just not enough?”

“You are enough,” she said, fierce now. “But if you want to change — for you — then we’ll do it smart. No starving yourself. No crying in dressing rooms. Just small steps. Healthy ones. Starting today.”

She grabbed her phone again, fingers flying like she was solving a national emergency. “Okay. Phase one: sweat and salads. Phase two: confidence boot camp. Phase three: jaw-dropping revenge body.”

I blinked at her. “You had a transformation plan ready?”

Talia smirked. “Please. I’ve been dying for an excuse to drag you to hot yoga. This just makes it official.”

Despite myself, I laughed — the sound rusty but real. “God, you’re insane.”

“And you love me,” she replied, tossing me a wink. “Now, finish that sad excuse for coffee. I’m dragging your ass out for a walk in fifteen. I don’t care if you cry the whole way, but you’re moving.”

I shook my head, a smile pulling at my lips. “This is why you’re the only person I trust to witness my lowest point.”

She stood, stretching like a cat. “Babe, this isn’t your lowest point. This is the montage setup. Rock bottom is step one in every badass comeback story.”

I raised my mug. “To sweat and salads?”

She clinked an invisible glass. “To becoming unrecognizable — and making sure Jace chokes on the glow-up.”

A shaky smile tugged at my lips.

But when I looked down at my reflection in the cold coffee, a darker thought slipped in, soft and terrifying.

What if I can't become that girl? What if this broken version of me is all there is?