PAHIRAM NG ISANG GABI (Book #1)

“Why her and not me?”

Never in my twenty-three years of existence did I ever think I’ll be asking a man this. But here I am, in the middle of a park filled with noisy kids, asking my boyfriend of three years, Scottie—dumb name, by the way—the most embarrassing question ever.

Why? He just announced he needs a break from us, and the cherry on top is that he’s taking his ex-girlfriend on a vacation I’ve been planning for months. Months!

Scottie sighs, combing through his bubble-curly blonde hair and definitely flexing his biceps on purpose.

Ugh! I can’t look at them. I’m too mad right now.

“Look, Belle, this isn’t about you, okay? It’s about me and what I want,” he continues, talking in that nasty, gaslighting voice of his. “You’re cute and all, but I can’t be a gym influencer and have a girlfriend who looks like she eats donuts for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

“Scottie!” I gasp because what the hell?! “You met me this way. I’ve always been plus-size. You said you love me this way!” I point at him, my chin wobbling as I feel that annoying urge to cry.

“It was to fucking make you feel better!” he blurts like he’s explaining a plot twist in a movie. Does he seriously not know he’s being mean and that his words hurt?

“I’m a great-looking dude, bro.” He turns around, arms spread, showing off his athletic build. I narrow my eyes at him in disgust. Such a fucking smug idiot. “And great-looking dudes like me love hot girls, slender girls like Kendall Jenner, Bella Hadid—and oh, your sister, Sally. She’s so hot.”

“You asshole!” I scoff, clutching at my aching chest. That was such a low blow.

It’s no news that my sister is a superstar model, which makes my life worse than it already is. Scottie always makes sexual innuendos about her and follows her look-alikes on social media.

Safe to say I saw our breakup coming, and I always prepared myself for it… but not now! Not when I planned my Christmas with him!

“Oh fuck, don’t start crying, the kids will start crowding us,” he groans.

He’s right. The kids are already turning in our direction.

I sniffle, wiping off my cold tears and trying to look okay, but I feel so heartbroken inside... and cold. Getting dumped three days before Christmas just because of your size is diabolical. I’m never healing from this.

“It’s okay, I get it,” I say, laughing humorlessly. “Your ex is the perfect girl to take home for Christmas, not me. Your mom hates fat people.”

That last sentence is something he always says whenever I complain he’s too obsessed with the gym.

Scottie winces, his expression apologetic, and for a moment, I feel a sliver of hope that he’s having second thoughts and is going to offer an apology and a hug… maybe a kiss.

Instead, he sighs and says,

“Okay, maybe if you can lose fifty pounds before Thursday, I could—”

“Oh fuck you, Scottie. Fuck you and your mom and Sienna—”

“Her name’s Ciara,” he corrects, and I lose my mind even further. I pick up a snow ball and throw it at him. He barely dodges it.

“What has gotten into you?!”

“You have!” I splutter, tears and snot. “How dare you say all of these things to me after everything!”

“It’s my mom, she—”

“She can stick a Christmas tree up her flat ass, because I love myself. Every damn curve, every roll. And if you’ve got a problem with that, go fuck yourself!” I spin around, stomping in blind rage to wherever.

“Hey, Belle! No goodbye kiss-kiss for Daddy?” he calls behind me.

I lift a middle finger up at him without looking back—I'm too irritated to.

I hurry to hide under a Christmas tree shade. The lights are flickering, casting a shadow over me so no one can see I’m crying.

I’m an ugly crier—snot and all. I cover my mouth with my shaky hands, trying not to make so much noise. I don’t want to yell at any poor concerned child to get away from me.

“He doesn’t deserve me,” I chant to myself, using the end of my pink thick hoodie to clean my tears. I look behind me and Scottie’s gone. My sore heart sinks—he’s probably off to go see Ciara, his perfect girl.

I look ahead and notice there’s a velvet board behind me. It has a pen and a note you can just pull out from an open box.

A dozen notes with illegible handwriting are pinned to the board. They’re Christmas wishes… from kids. That brings my attention to the notice on the board.

FOR KIDS ONLY.

“Who set the damn rules?” I snort, snatching a note and picking up the pen.

I stare at the blank note in my shaky hand for a couple of seconds, echoes of Scottie’s mean words punching my heart over and over again.

I sigh before scribbling away.

Dear Santa,

I know you’re not expecting a twenty-three year old who writes smut online whenever she’s horny to write to you about her Christmas present, but here I am, sad and floaty.

My boyfriend just dumped me.

Scratch that.

Ex-boyfriend.

You’re not gonna believe his reason. It’s because I’m fat, Santa. I’m not really fat, I’m just… not skinny. Gosh, why do people bother so much about weight? Fat people are literally the cutest. I mean, take a look at us!

I chuckle sadly at that, wiping my wet, itchy cheeks. I keep writing:

Anyways, he dumped me right next to a big-ass Christmas tree with kids running around. It’s only three days to Christmas and I’m so heartbroken.

So, I think you could do me a favor by sending an unusual gift to me as compensation.

I lick my plump bottom lip and look around. Two blonde kids are crying and fighting over an elf stuffie.

Ha! Kids. That’s all they ever care about.

I return to my note and tap the pen on my plump chin as I think of my unusual gift. I smile when an idea comes.

I’d like a hot werewolf, something similar to Jacob from Twilight. I’m sure you’ve watched it, everyone has.

But with some tattoos. I love, love tattoos. And a twelve-inch dick, if you can. My asshole ex-boyfriend is barely five inches and he acts like he’s big down there. Total loser.

I actually giggle at that. I should have called him small, it’s only fair since he calls me fat.

Well, back to my wish.

Also, could he be like those book boyfriends that are obsessed with curves and can lift me like I weigh nothing and eat me out with my legs dangling on his shoulders? And he should have a really hot name like Jaxon or Mason or Knox.

I know this sounds like a lot, but trust me, it’s something you can pull off. And I hope you do.

I pressed my lips together, feeling a wave of nostalgia when I'd snort at my sister for writing wish notes for Santa and leaving it under our Christmas tree.

From a sad, lonely girl who never believed in you,

Merry Christmas, old man.

At the end of the note, I draw a star and pin it to the board. I stare at it, and then, when a child runs past me, my eyes widen.

“Kids can’t read all of this, right?” I ask myself, feeling a tad bit dreaded. But then, “Oh whatever.” I wave off the feeling.

I turn and start heading out of the park. Just then, my phone rings. I growl when my sister’s name pops up on my screen.

“What is it?” I exhale dramatically.

“Hey, grumpy. What’s up?” she snickers. I hate when she calls me that.

“Same old,” I shrug, tucking my free hand into my hoodie pocket.

“Something wrong? You’ve been cheerful all week because of your great vacation to New York.”

Something tugs at my heart at the mention of New York. How do I tell Sally that the only guy who I thought loved me has canceled our trip to his charming city just to take his ex instead?

I hate when Sally laughs at me.

“Nothing. Just decided not to go. He’s got some issues back home I don’t wanna get involved with,” I lie fluently, though my heart is beating so fast.

She hums, definitely suspicious.

“Austin and I are traveling back home to Bear Lake tomorrow. We’re spending the holidays with Aunt May. You in?” she asks, surprisingly.

Austin’s her husband. He was adopted by our aunt. We all grew up together, and he fell in love with Sally while I crushed on him for eight fucking years. Our parents died in a car crash when we were toddlers, we pretty much lived all our lives there until Uni.

Going back home never crossed my mind until now, but thinking about it, it’ll be fun.

A few of my cousins will be there. Some old friends too. It’s either that or spending lonely nights writing Christmas smut to my devoted horny fans.

“Sure,” I finally answer with a sigh. I hope I don’t regret this.

“Really? I was hoping you’d decline since you hate road trips, especially with me and Austin.”

I know what she’s driving at.

“I can live four hours with you both. Plus, I miss my old friends in Bear Lake.”

I remember Cassie Lockwood and her brother—I can’t remember his name, but he was kinda hot then.

“Okay, great then,” she says, sounding disappointed. “I need to have my night salad, you know, to keep fit for all my January shoots. Vogue just—”

I end the call in the middle of her endless talks about her deals with top brands. Am I jealous? Yes. Do I want to be her? No.

She’s always so self-centered and manipulative. She’d make a great match with Scottie.

My stomach churns at the reminder of that dumbass, and I make a mental note never to think of him—like that’s possible. Maybe I should have added that to my wish note.

I turn back to the board, and I can’t find my note pinned there. Weird.

“Hmm. Must be the wind,” I shrug and keep walking out of the park, totally forgetting wishes sometimes come true… especially on Christmas.