Six Years Chasing Her First Love's Body

The day Carly Stein and I make things official, she syncs her phone to my smart weighing scale. Every morning, my body fat percentage and biometric data get uploaded straight to her phone. Whenever my fat slips above 8%, she turns cold. "Lower it to 8%, Danny. Get those muscles razor-sharp, and then we'll get married." For six years, I obsess over every calorie and burn myself out in the gym because of those words. On my birthday, I eat a single slice of regular cake. She immediately flags it on our shared fitness app as a severe loss of control. Now, I finally hit 8%. I have the broad shoulders and narrow waist she demanded. Yet on the day of my custom suit fitting, Carly leaves me waiting in the shop for three hours. Aiden Turner, an old friend, sends a photo. Carly is sitting with him in a barbecue joint, picking onions out of his plate. "Hey Danny, I just got back in town. Carly said you're cutting for the wedding and can't have this stuff, so I didn't invite you." On our app, Carly logs that grease-heavy midnight meal as a "companion day". I open the scale's historical setup logs. That 8% body fat goal was created six years ago—the exact day Aiden moved abroad. There's one line of text in the target notes field that hasn't been completely deleted. "Aiden at his physical peak." I stare at the screen for a long moment, then hit unpair. After that, I go to the suit shop and change the name on the suit reservation to Aiden Turner. Chapter 1 When the store assistant came back with her tablet, her pace had noticeably slowed. "Mr. Nash, the reservation has been switched to Aiden Turner. But this suit was tailored to your unusually broad shoulders and narrow waist. It might not fit him at all." She glanced at my razor-sharp jawline, hollowed out by extreme fat loss, and swallowed the rest of her sentence. The suit on the fitting platform looked sharp and crisp. To fit into it, I had spent the last half month eating nothing but boiled chicken breast, even cutting out water entirely over the final few days. My waist and shoulders had finally hit the brutal dimensions the designer demanded. Yet today was the first time I realized those numbers weren't meant for me. I opened the suit shop's digital order. Every detail, from the ties and cufflinks to the lining, had Carly Stein's notes written all over it. Only the groom himself was treated like a replaceable part. "He's not trying it on. Cancel the primary suit." The assistant blinked. "Custom pieces only have a refund of 30%. If you cancel now, you're out at least 2,600 dollars." That money was what I'd saved for our wedding over two years. My finger hovered over the confirmation button. My phone buzzed. Carly's name overrode the cancellation screen. "Why did you change the name on the reservation?" So she'd finally noticed. I stared at myself in the mirror, wearing just a shirt. Because of my chronically low body fat, every vein on the back of my hand stood out in stark relief. "When are you getting here?" I asked. The line went quiet for a second, followed by the sizzle of meat hitting an iron grill. "I'm heading over after dropping Aiden off. Don't start messing with the orders just because of a picture. The suit isn't something for you to throw a tantrum over." "The store closes in 40 minutes," I said calmly. "Then push it to Sunday. I'll come try it on with you, okay?" That promise made my finger ease up on the confirmation button. Six years ago, I first passed out at the gym from low blood sugar, which was brought on by zero carbs and heavy squats. Carly had rushed me to the hospital, running a red light on the way. She even yelled at me, insisting she'd monitor every single one of my diet and training plans from then on. Back then, her control felt like a tight safety net. I genuinely believed she cared more about my body than I did. Through the phone, Aiden Turner's voice drifted over with a smile. "Carly, I've still got onions on my plate." Carly made a noise of acknowledgment while covering the mouthpiece. When she spoke again, her tone had turned impatient. "Danny, I'll be there Sunday. Just change the reservation back, and don't go eating random junk tonight. I packed you some boiled greens and pan-seared chicken breast." The countdown timer on the cancellation screen had 20 seconds left. "Did you write that note?" I asked. She didn't answer right away. "That was six years ago. How am I supposed to remember every little thing? If it bothers you that much, I'll delete it when I get back." The fact that she was willing to delete the note and come back to try on the suit with me sounded like she was giving ground. Yet on the other end, once the onions were picked out, Aiden asked her if they could order an extra plate of pork belly. Carly said, "Go ahead if you can finish it." She had never once said that to me. Right before the cancellation countdown hit zero, I pressed confirm. The notification for the 2,600-dollar loss popped up, which I ignored. The assistant pulled back the fitting room curtain. I took off the suit and handed it back to her. "Cancel Sunday's appointment, too." I changed back into my workout gear and exported six years of body fat logs and diet histories. The system generated 2,190 pages of files, each one annotated by Carly. If my body fat went up by even 0.2%, Carly would increase my cardio. If I ate one extra bite of beef at dinner, she'd call it a lack of discipline. If I took even a sip of sports drink, she'd make me burn off the extra calories the next day. The assistant handed me a piece of hard candy, worried I'd faint from low blood sugar. I peeled off the wrapper. But instead of putting it in my mouth, I just clenched it in my palm until the sharp edges bit red into my skin. Before I walked out of the shop, I got a text from Carly. "Don't eat the chicken breast yet. Weigh yourself the second you get home." I deleted the reservation reinstatement request and kept only the 2,600-dollar cancellation receipt. Chapter 2 At 11:00 pm, Carly walked in smelling of grilled meat. She set a clear plastic takeout box on the table. Inside were a few yellowed lettuce leaves and dry, boiled meat, without even a speck of black pepper. "I told the chef no salt. Remember to do 40 minutes of fasted cardio when you finish this. You probably drank a lot of water trying on suits today. We can't let your muscle definition get soft." She spoke as naturally as she had every single night for the past six years. As I opened the box, the greasy scent of grilled meat drifting off her jacket overpowered the bitter smell of the lettuce. Carly took off her jacket. A smear of dipping sauce stained the cuff of her blouse. Realizing it, she pulled out a wet wipe to clean it off, then casually asked if the suit reservation had been changed back. "I canceled it," I said. Her movements paused. "Daniel Nash, I already promised I'd go with you on Sunday." "You promised today, too." She frowned at me, weighing whether my words were worth an argument. Finally, she softened her voice. "Aiden just came back. He doesn't know his way around. Let's just say I didn't plan well today. I'll cover the cancellation loss, and we can pick a new suit." She pulled out her phone and transferred 2,600 dollars right then and there. That was probably her version of an apology. I didn't accept the transfer. Instead, I pushed the box of boiled greens back. "Don't ever decide what I eat again." "Fine." She agreed so quickly that I looked up. Carly walked over to the smart scale and kicked it straight with her foot. "Decide for yourself, then. But you have to make sure your muscle mass doesn't drop, and that your body fat doesn't bounce back. The wedding is only a month away. The suit sizes are already locked in." It turned out her compromise was just phrasing a command differently. I took off my engagement ring and set it down beside the takeout box. Carly's gaze finally darkened at the sight of the ring. "Is it really necessary to blow things up like this?" "The note in the target field says his name," I said. "That was a body-shaping template from six years ago. You trained and built your physique using this program, which proves it works. Are you going to throw away six years over a few words?" Four years ago, I slipped in the bathroom from severe dehydration and slammed my shoulder hard against the tiles. Carly had helped me up onto the couch, but her first question wasn't whether my body hurt. It was to check my macronutrient logs for the day. She calculated that my carb intake was too low, which caused the dizziness, but punished me by doubling my cardio every day for a week as the price of "being careless". That night, she sat by the bed and ice-packed my shoulder three times. I had interpreted her coldness as strictness and her punishments as high standards for me. The condensation from the takeout box trickled down the edge, dampening the ring. I spoke up. "You said that we'd get married once my body fat dropped to 8%." "You've already done it." Carly picked up the ring, wiped it clean with a tissue, and reached for my hand. Her fingertips were still warm. "The wedding next month goes on as planned. Let's drop today's nonsense. From now on, I'll try to spend less time alone with Aiden." The ring pressed against my knuckle. I didn't pull away right away. Right then, her phone lit up with a voice message from Aiden. "Carly, you left your jacket at my place. I'll bring it over to the auto show tomorrow, okay?" Carly's hand tightened slightly. She didn't reply, but she didn't deny that she'd be spending tomorrow with him either. I pulled my hand back. The ring dropped onto the table with a sharp click. "Tomorrow is the wedding menu tasting," I said. "The auto show wraps up by noon. I'll make it." "I want you not to go." For the first time in six years, I explicitly asked her to choose between Aiden and me. Carly stared at me for a few seconds, then placed the ring back in the box. "Danny, I already said I'd make it back. Don't turn a normal friendship into something so ugly." She picked up her phone and opened the fitness app out of habit. Seconds later, her expression shifted. "You unlinked the smart scale?" I snapped the takeout box shut and tossed it in the trash. "It's not going to report to you anymore." Chapter 3 The next morning, Carly placed a new appointment card for a high-end tailored suit in front of me. The appointment was set for Sunday at 3:00 pm in a private VIP suite, with the lead designer providing full service. She'd even prepared breakfast—a cup of black coffee and three boiled egg whites, slightly more calories than my usual intake. "I came on too strong yesterday." Carly pushed the plate toward me. "If you don't want to link the smart scale, you don't have to. Just log your measurements and body fat once a week before the wedding and send them to me." Those three egg whites felt like her concession. I picked one up and took a bite. The long-forgotten natural taste of food bloomed across my tongue. For a split second, I actually thought that as long as she showed up on time today, maybe we could still talk this through. As Carly watched me finish, her expression softened. She reached over to adjust the collar of my tracksuit. Her movement was so practiced it made my throat tighten. At 9:00 am, Aiden called. His voice leaked through the earpiece, saying the auto show had changed venues at the last minute, and that he couldn't find the entrance. Carly was silent for a second before grabbing her car keys. "I'll just get him inside and leave. I'll be at the restaurant by 11:00 am." I didn't stop her, merely placing the wedding menu tasting confirmation sheet into my bag. "I won't wait past 11:00 am." She turned back at the entryway. "You weren't like this before." "I used to finish workout sessions on an empty stomach just to wait for you." After the door closed, half a cup of her unfinished coffee remained on the table. My instinct was to pour it out and wash the cup, but halfway through reaching out, I pulled back. … At 11:00 am, I was the only person sitting in the restaurant. By 12:00 pm, two rounds of cold appetizers had been cleared away. The manager came over to ask if they should start serving the dishes. I glanced at the empty head seat and told him to bring everything out. I also added roast beef, a beef burger, and a dessert to the order. Carly's call came in just as the first dish was set down. "Something came up at the auto show. Go ahead and confirm the presentation. You don't need to taste the food. The chef will follow standard recipes, so there won't be any issues." "You promised you'd be here by 11:00 am," I said. "Aiden's in a bad mood. I can't just abandon him here. Be mature about this and help me finish up the tasting process." The waiter lifted the lid off the plate, and the rich scent of roast beef hit my face. "Carly, I'm eating." The line went dead silent. "Eating what?" I picked up a piece of roast beef coated in thick, savory sauce. "The things you strictly forbade me from touching." Her breath hitched. "Daniel, don't throw away your hard-earned muscle over a temper tantrum. Stop right now. Go to the gym and do two hours of high-intensity cardio, and I'll recalculate your calorie deficit when I get back." The manager handed me another document, gently reminding me, "Ms. Stein confirmed suit measurements in advance, specifying that there can be no waistline expansion before the wedding day. There's also a pre-wedding body management agreement here that requires your signature." The document laid out strict dietary rules for every meal between now and the wedding. I had to weigh myself and measure my body fat every morning on an empty stomach. If I exceeded my calorie limits, I'd have to cut carbs the next day. Three days before the wedding, I had to start cutting water and flushing out sodium. At the bottom was Carly's digital signature. She had approved all the terms on my behalf. I flipped to the final page and pushed the paper back to the manager. "I'm not signing this. Cancel the wedding, too." Carly heard it over the phone. "Daniel, are you out of your mind?" "The deposit refund is short by 11 thousand dollars." "I'll handle it. Don't sign anything right now. Wait until I get there." I hung up and signed my name on the cancellation request. The manager reminded me that once the processing began, the wedding date would immediately be released to other guests. Between the suit shop losses and the wedding deposit, I had effectively wiped out almost all my wedding savings. My hand trembled as the pen glided across the page. It wasn't about losing the money. I had trained like an ascetic for six years for this wedding. And now, even calling it off meant giving up a piece of my own life. I finished the plate of roast beef and beef burger. The long-absent rush of heavy carbs and fat made my stomach, which was accustomed to bland food, cramp in sharp waves, yet I still ate the entire dessert. The cream was sweet—so sweet it felt sickening. Right then, a text message from Aiden popped up. "Danny, Carly actually prefers a normal body with a bit more weight on it. She just said I look great like this. You don't have to push yourself so hard or suffer so much just for the wedding." In the attached photo, Carly's jacket was draped over his shoulders. Carly's hand rested on the back of his chair, barely a palm's width away from him. I swallowed the last bite of dessert and opened the wedding cancellation status page. My request was already granted.