Chapter 1

On Valentine's Day, I literally ate myself to death.

With five million followers watching my live stream, my stomach ruptured from extreme binge-eating. My blood vessels collapsed.

My soul hovered, leaving that bloated, 250-pound body behind.

That was when I saw my husband, Mario, holding hands with my skinny model bestie, Samantha, strolling down the street.

In Samantha’s arms was a gorgeous bouquet of lisianthus—the exact flowers I had been begging Mario for.

They kissed, they hugged, and they talked trash about me.

"That fat whale," Mario sneered. "I get sick just looking at her. Sitting in front of her webcam, she looks like a giant white pig."

Samantha giggled, leaning into his chest.

"Well, she’s just your cash cow. I’m your real love. Just look at me, babe, don’t look at her."

In that second, a wave of pure, toxic hatred consumed my soul.

The next thing I knew, I opened my eyes. I was back in the dressing room. Ten minutes before walking down the aisle.

I looked down at the outdated, size-XXXXL wedding dress clinging to my body. I realized I had been reborn.

I grabbed the hem of my dress and sprinted backstage.

Just as the DJ announced, "And now, please welcome our beautiful bride!" I snatched the microphone from the coordinator and marched onto the stage.

Samantha, wearing a frilly, white Lolita-style gown, "accidentally" stepped into the spotlight, spinning twice like a fairy to draw all eyes to herself.

After finishing her little show, she realized I wasn't standing at the entrance to be her ugly foil. She looked around in a panic.

I switched on the microphone and spoke loud and clear:

"As you can all see, the star of today’s show isn't me. It’s Samantha!"

"Look at how stunning she looks in that white gown. She’s the real princess today. I gladly step aside and let her be the bride!"

The crowd went wild. Murmurs erupted instantly.

People started pointing and whispering at Samantha, who was standing right in the spotlight. Dozens of guests pulled out their phones, recording her trying to upstage the bride at a wedding.

Samantha stood frozen, her face turning bright red with sheer embarrassment.

Mario rushed onto the stage and ripped the microphone from my hand. He hissed, "Betty, what the hell are you talking about?!"

In my past life, when I walked through those doors, everyone laughed at how fat and ugly I looked in that dress.

I had blinked back tears, only for the officiant to publicly joke that I looked like a prize-winning sow.

And when it came to the kiss, Mario just leaned in, fake-kissed the air next to my cheek, and whispered:

"You’re so fat. If a picture of me actually kissing you gets online, I’ll be the laughingstock of the city."

I looked at his twisted, angry face now. I snatched the microphone back and said, cold as ice, "This wedding is over. I. Am. Out."