Too Fat? Hell No. The Hockey Stars Love My Curves.

Serena Hartley.

“You should wear the black dress,” Damien Cross—my husband and captain of the Crownridge Titans hockey team—said behind me, extending the black dress toward me.

From the mirror, I could see the irritation on his features like he was barely holding back from throwing up.

“Why?” My brows furrowed in confusion as I stared down at the red dress I had on, the one I had specifically bought since he told me about the pre-championship gala three months ago. I swirled around. “Is this not beautiful? I think you used to like me in red.”

“Not anymore,” he snapped, his gaze dropping down to my stomach. “Look at all those folds, Serena. Just wear this, at least it hides your stomach.”

His words were like a bucket of cold water emptied on my face, stinging more than I cared to admit. I forced a smile at him, my weak hands reaching out to take the dress from him. “I understand. I will change now.”

His jaw remained tight as he let the dress go even before I could take it from him. He walked away and slipped on his suit jacket.

With all the strength inside me, I crouched lower and picked up the dress. I tried to slip off the red dress when he walked over again.

“You know what? Just stay at home. I already texted Camille and she is free to attend with me,” he said like the words were the most natural thing in the world.

A bitter laugh escaped my throat. “What the hell are you saying, Damien? You will choose to attend the event with your mistress instead of your wife?”

“She is not my mistress!” He snapped coldly. “At least, not yet.”

“Not yet! That means you plan on making her your mistress soon?”

He did not respond to that.

“Whatever, I’m not doing this with you right now. I’m already running late. I can’t be seen around you when you look like this. Camille fits my image better and I’m going with her.” His words were final, hitting me like a sledgehammer.

I have always been a size fourteen. Five years ago, when he was still a rookie, my body had never bothered him. He used to pull me against him and tell me he loved every curve.

Fame had changed him.

Or perhaps it had simply revealed the man he had always been.

“But you know, I’m trying to lose weight, Damien, but it just seemed impossible because I’m naturally plus size.”

“Then you are not trying enough, Serena.”

My stomach knitted as he just discredited all my efforts over the years.

“Have you seen the wives of my colleagues, my rivals? You see how Camille looks right? How can you, the wife of a star athlete, look like this? I would never be caught dead with you… not on an important night like this.”

My lips parted in disbelief as I watched him turn away and walk out of the room. It felt like my entire world had just come crumbling down on me. My eyes stung with tears but I did not let them drop.

“I will see you later.” He slammed the door shut behind him.

I did not know for how long I stood frozen at the spot, but by the time I regained myself, a determination sparked inside me.

I was done.

With marriage.

With the weight loss journey.

With losing myself every day and now I could no longer recognize the woman with sad eyes staring back at me in the mirror.

With trying to keep a man that doesn’t want me and doesn’t deserve to be kept.

—————

Against my better judgement, I scrolled through my phone where I sat in the living room, munching on the red velvet cake I had forfeited months ago.

On the screen I saw my husband, lying with a straight face to the press that I was sick when they asked for the reason why I wasn’t at the gala and I had specifically asked Camille to be his date tonight so he wouldn’t be alone.

I hated to admit how Camille looked so beautiful and sexy in the red halter dress that clung to her body like a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination.

She stood closely beside him, her almost spilling breasts pressed hard against his chest. While his left hand wrapped around her waist tightly, smiling at her like she was his entire world… same way he used to look at me years back.

My chest heaved with barely restrained anger as I tossed the phone away.

An hour later, he walked in looking excited.

“It was a great event.” He leaned down and kissed my cheeks.

I was barely resisting the urge to push him off me because of Camille’s scent and cologne that was all over him. “You smell like her.”

“She is my date, isn’t it expected that I smell—” he paused when his gaze landed on the cake crumbs inside the plate. “Eating cake again?” His nose flared up in thinly masked disgust. “You see the reason why you keep getting bigger.”

I totally ignored his uproar.

Instead, I reached for the envelope beside the plate and held it up. “I want a divorce. Sign it, then we can proceed with the divorce proceedings—”

“What?!” He snatched the envelope from me, reached into it and retrieved the divorce papers inside it. He scanned it, disbelief colouring his features. “No, you can’t divorce me.”

I rose, hands on my hips. “Why not? Clearly, our marriage is even over before now and instead of living in denial, let’s just end it. I’m tired of you making me feel less of myself.”

“Oh wow.” He scoffed bitterly, his grip tightened around the papers. “You want a divorce right?”

“Yes.”

“Then I will give it to you but not now. The championship is starting tomorrow and as the captain of my team, the news of a divorce will ruin things for me. My rivals can even use it to turn my fans against me.”

“So what are you saying?” I asked, my patience thinning.

“Let’s not get a divorce until the championship is over. But let’s have an open marriage instead.”

I blinked hard to be sure this wasn’t a bad dream. “An open marriage?”

“Yes. Tonight, I realised that I want to be with Camille, so we have an open marriage. I can be with her, while you be with whoever you want.”

He wants to be with Camille?

My husband has openly chosen someone else over me.

It felt like my heart had been ripped apart. I parted my lips several times but no words came through. Finally, I regained myself.

“You want to humiliate me? Fine. I’m no longer afraid of losing you.”

His lips curled into a devilish smirk. “Oh, is that so?”

My smile was bitter. “An open marriage? Then let’s do it.”

“Good.”

“But just so you know, Damien, you will regret this decision you made today.”

His laughter—sharp, bitter and mocking—echoed through. “Regret?” The word tasted bitter on his lips. “No, I won’t. Instead, I would have a good life.”

Then he taunted. “But I know… no one would ever want to be with you.” He scanned me again. “No one would like a woman like you, and especially the wife of a famous hockey player at that. But then, you can try getting a man, okay?”

And that was it. He placed the envelope in my hand and walked past me, his feet hitting the floor sharply as he ascended the stairs.

I stumbled weakly onto the chair behind me.

An open marriage?

Sure… let’s keep it as open as possible then.