Chapter 1

"130 pounds? Look in the mirror, Chloe. Do you even look like a girl?"

For the entire summer break, my plate only had boiled, tasteless vegetables.

Every morning, I had to run five miles on an empty stomach. Mom rode her e-bike right behind me, refusing to let me stop.

By the time school started, I had lost thirty pounds.

Mom touched my collarbones, frowning. "Still too soft. We need to keep going."

She banned me from eating in the school cafeteria. The moment I got home, the first thing I had to do was step on the scale.

In less than six months, I was reduced to skin and bones. My classmates whispered behind my back, calling me "the walking corpse."

During the P.E. fitness test, I collapsed right at the finish line.

When I woke up, Mom was crying, holding a bowl of pasta.

I stared at the pasta and whispered, "I can’t eat carbs. I’ll get fat."

The air froze.

The tears were still wet on Mom’s face. Her hand holding the bowl remained suspended in mid-air, as if someone had hit pause on her entire body.

She stared at me, the warmth in her eyes fading instantly, replaced by a burning rage.

"What did you say?" her voice trembled.

I opened my mouth, wanting to tell her it wasn't my choice. My body had just been conditioned this way.

For the past few months, she had been chanting in my ear every single day: "No carbs, no sugar. You have to be thin to be worthy."

Those words had been nailed into my bones, impossible to pull out.

But she didn't wait for my explanation.

"Chloe!"

She slammed the bowl of pasta onto the nightstand. The hot sauce splashed out, burning the back of her hand, but she didn't even flinch.

"What is wrong with you? I worked so hard to make this pasta for you, and you tell me you can’t eat it? Are you trying to kill me?"

I looked at her. Her eyes were red, the tip of her nose was pink, but all her softness was gone.

She stood by the hospital bed, hands on her hips, her chin tilted up like a lioness ready to pounce.

Suddenly, the ward door pushed open.

A nurse wheeled in a cart to check my temperature. In a split second, Mom’s face changed.

She turned around, wiping her tears, her voice instantly softening. "This girl... she’s just too stubborn. She faints and still refuses to rest. I made her some pasta to help her recover, but she’s still worried about gaining weight..."

The nurse glanced at her, said nothing, and handed me the thermometer.

The doctor walked in then. She was a woman in her late forties, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, holding a stack of charts.

She glanced at the pasta on the nightstand, then at my mom, her voice flat. "The patient is severely malnourished. Pasta is too low in nutrient density. It’s not suitable for recovery."

Mom froze.

I had seen that look many times.

Every time she thought she was right, only to be publicly called out, her face would go blank. It was like paint peeling off a wall, revealing the dull, gray concrete underneath.

But she quickly recovered.

"Then... I’ll go buy something else right away!" Her voice became eager. "Dr. Carter, what should I get? I’ll get it now. The hospital cafeteria food is definitely no good. I’ll go buy it outside!"

Dr. Carter nodded, gave a few instructions about nutrition, checked my vitals, and turned to leave.

The moment the door closed, the eagerness on Mom’s face vanished, like someone had pulled the plug.

She stood by the bed, looking at me, her lips twitching, but she didn't say anything harsh.

She sat down, picked up the bowl of pasta, and suddenly sighed.

"Chloe," her voice softened. "Don't blame me. I’m doing this for your own good."

That phrase again.

"Look at you now. You look so beautiful thin."

She reached out to touch my hair. I flinched away slightly.

Her hand froze in mid-air for a second, but then she let it drop onto my shoulder, patting it.

"You used to be so chubby. Nothing looked good on you, and people stared whenever you walked by. Do you know how much that hurt me?"

I closed my eyes.

I didn't want to look at her.

But her words still crept into my ears. "Your Aunt Rachel said to me last time, ‘Why is Chloe getting so big?’ Do you know how I felt hearing that? I wanted the ground to swallow me whole."

Aunt Rachel. It was always Aunt Rachel.

She was Mom’s old high school rival, and the two had never stopped competing since they met.

Tears squeezed out from under my closed eyelids, sliding down my temples and into my hair.

"Why are you crying?"

Mom’s tone carried a hint of impatience. "Isn't everything fine now? You're thin. Who would dare laugh at you now? Do you have any idea how much effort I put into you? What other mother would run with you every day? Who would cook for you every day? Don't be so ungrateful."