Semua Bab I was more than pretty: Bab 1 - Bab 10

The last thing I heard was laughter.Not the warm kind. Not the kind that wraps around your heart like sunlight.No. This was the laugh of someone who’d won.Julian’s voice, smooth as aged whiskey, saying, “She never even saw it coming.”And Serena’s—my best friend—giggling like we were still sharing secrets over wine, not plotting my downfall while I was busy dying.I lay in the hospital bed, machines beeping like a countdown no one could stop. My body was weak, hollowed out by stress, by grief, by years of pretending I didn’t hear the whispers.“She’s pretty, but you can tell it’s not real.”“All that work done on her face… must’ve cost a fortune.”“I wonder what she looked like before?”They said I got plastic surgery to be loved.But they never asked why.They never saw the girl who was called “ugly” in high school.The one whose yearbook photo was edited with devil horns and shared in a group chat titled “Before & Horrible.”The one who wore oversized sweaters in summer just to d

I didn’t hate my face at first.That came later.It started with a nickname."Potato Nose."I was thirteen. Seventh grade. Standing at my locker, trying to zip up my backpack when Jason Miller leaned against the locker next to mine, sniffed loudly, and said, “Smells like mashed potatoes in here.”Everyone laughed.I didn’t get it at first.Then I saw the doodle taped to my locker the next day.A lopsided face. Huge eyes. A nose like a bloated tuber. Below it, written in red marker:Evelyn – Ugly Since Birth.I peeled it off. Crumpled it. Threw it away.And told myself it didn’t matter.But it did.Because it wasn’t just Jason.It was the girls in the bathroom who’d go silent when I walked in.The boys who mimicked my walk — shoulders hunched, head down — during gym class.The teacher who said, “Evelyn, you’d be so pretty if you just smiled more,” like joy was a filter I could turn on.By freshman year of high school, I stopped looking in mirrors.Not because I was dramatic.Because it

She went.Not because she wanted to.But because she needed to see.She needed to see the true meaning behind the message Serena sent.The café was exactly the kind of place Serena loved.Tucked in the heart of the city’s arts district, all marble floors and soft jazz, floor-to-ceiling windows that turned every patron into a performance.Designer clothes.Perfect hair.Laughter that sounded rehearsed.And when Evelyn walked in, the air shifted.Not dramatically.Not with gasps.But with glances.Sideways.Quick.Curious.She wasn’t dressed poorly.Her coat was tailored.Her boots, Italian leather.But her face?It was real.No contouring.No subtle lifts.Just her — before the surgery.And in a room full of polished perfection, that was enough to make her stand out.Not for her style.But for her lack of it — by their standards.She scanned the room.And there, in the center table near the window, sat Serena.Radiant.Surrounded.Already holding court.She wore a cream silk dress, her

They just stood there — frozen in the middle of the boutique, surrounded by soft jazz and the rustle of fabric, yet completely alone.The world blurred.The assistant behind the counter.The woman adjusting a mannequin.The couple browsing scarves.None of it mattered.There was only him.Julian Vale.Her fiancé.The man who had once kissed her hand like it was sacred.The man who had whispered, “You’re the only one I’ll ever love,” as he slid a diamond onto her finger.The man who, just ten years later, would say the same words to Serena, while Evelyn lay in a hospital bed — heart failing, soul broken.And now?Now he was here.Looking at her.Not with confusion.Not with indifference.But with something deeper.Recognition.Not of her face — because in this life, she hadn’t changed it.Not of her name — because they’d never been close.But of her presence.Like a song that had been playing in the background of his life, suddenly pausing — just long enough for him to hear it.And Eve

Evelyn:I couldn’t stand being with the man I was suppose to call fiancé,Let alone husband in the nearest future.I needed some fresh air, air that wasn’t feeling like Julian’s presence.I needed to head back home.“I need to head back home Julian, it is getting quite late and mother might be bothered”“ I will live before you. See you later.”Those where my last words to him before I made my way out of the boutiqueThis time, I wasn’t going to turn back for any forgotten question like before.I didn’t look back as I walked out of the boutique.Didn’t pause.Didn’t hesitate.The city air hit me like a slap—cold, sharp, real. My heels clicked against the pavement, each step louder than Julian’s lies. One foot. Then the other. Just keep moving.But then his voice cut through the noise:“Evelyn.”I froze. Not because I wanted to.Because my body still remembered how to obey him.I turned slowly.He stood framed in the boutique’s glass door, sunlight catching the arrogance in his smile.