Chapter 2

Giselle posted the photo in the family group chat.

[Dad looks like a fat pig. That centipede scar on his stomach is so ugly. Why does he always have to embarrass himself like this by stealing the same handsome outfit Uncle Olly picked out?]

My hands and feet went cold.

Then Oliver stepped out of the fitting room next door in the same swimsuit. Its cut accentuated the clean lines of muscle across his waist and stomach.

Every eye in the store turned toward him.

"God, this guy's body is unreal. Those abs, that V-line. His girlfriend must be living the dream."

"Who's that next to him? Look at all that flab on his stomach and that sagging waist. He looks like day-old pork nobody wanted to buy."

I felt as though I had been stripped bare.

Helpless, I looked toward Eleanor, but her intense, unwavering gaze remained fixed on Oliver. She did not notice my humiliation at all.

The family group chat erupted with laughter at my expense. Someone even joked that I should be sent off to learn sumo wrestling.

I fled into the fitting room and struggled to catch my breath.

When Giselle was three, she was diagnosed with severe kidney failure. I turned out to be a match, but my body was too weak to meet the requirements for donation. I had no choice but to force myself to gain weight by any means necessary.

Ten meals a day was the minimum. I ate until I threw up, then forced myself to eat again. I went from the campus heartthrob who made girls blush to a fat man buried beneath layers of flab.

Before the surgery, I asked Giselle if she would stop loving me now that I had become ugly. She burst into tears and told me that, in her heart, I would always be the best dad in the whole world.

Even so, I developed severe anxiety about my body and was later diagnosed with moderate depression.

Eleanor tried to help me through it. Once Giselle was old enough to understand, she often comforted me too and told me that the marks on my body were proof of my love for her.

Now, a wound I thought had healed had been ripped open again, raw and bleeding. The pain tightened around my chest until I could barely breathe.

Outside the door, I heard mother and daughter chuckling quietly, clearly pleased with themselves.

"That's what Dad gets. Last time, he called Uncle Olly out in the family group chat for leaving his things everywhere. This is his punishment."

My legs gave out, and I sank against the wall. I did not open the door until I heard Eleanor call for me to come out so we could head home.

As we left the store, Oliver shot me a taunting look and swung the bulging shopping bag in his hand. "Bro, next time you buy clothes, ask me first. If we end up matching, I'm worried you'll embarrass yourself."

Giselle burst out laughing and hurried over to take some of Oliver's bags.

Eleanor shoved a cheap swim cap into my hands. "You're not exactly young anymore. Anyone can see you have no confidence in your body. Something practical like this suits you better."

My nails dug into my palms hard enough to break the skin. I forced down the bitterness that rose in my chest. It was not that practicality suited me. In Eleanor's eyes, I simply did not deserve anything better than a cheap giveaway.

Oliver walked shoulder to shoulder with Eleanor and winked at me. "Elle, I still haven't bought sunglasses."

Eleanor grabbed my wrist and yanked me backward. "Don't rush home yet. There's still something we need to do."

I stumbled back several steps and scraped my arm against the sharp edge of a gift bag.

Blood welled up instantly. The sudden sting made me suck in a sharp breath, but neither Eleanor nor Giselle spared me a glance. They simply followed Oliver back into the store.

A hushed gasp came from beside me.

A little girl who happened to be passing by pulled a bandage from her bag and held it out to me. "You're Moonfang, right?"

Something stirred deep in my chest. I nodded hesitantly.

The girl gave an excited squeal. "I've seen every one of your photographs. I'm your biggest fan! But you haven't posted anything new in eight years."

Ten years ago, I had been a top photographer at the height of my fame. Every photograph I took captured the subject's singular spirit and charm.

Eleanor fell in love with my photography and went to great lengths to track down my contact information. She brought me flowers in the morning, a homemade lunch prepared with care at noon, and a cup of hot cocoa in the evening.

Her sincerity moved me, and I accepted her proposal.

After we married, her career flourished while I divided my time between our home and the wilderness.

But Giselle had been frail since birth, and her health eventually forced me to become a stay-at-home father. From then on, I never touched a camera again.

I had insisted on going to Eldwater Hollow for our honeymoon because Eleanor once promised that we would take our wedding photos there, in the place where we had fallen in love.

She had forgotten the happiness we once promised to pursue together, so I chose to set out alone.