They Laughed at My Potential

The boy next door had a vicious tongue, always mocking my weight for laughs.

At our high school graduation dinner, someone joked that Cory and I were childhood sweethearts.

He slammed his fork down, face twisting in disgust. Are you insane? Whod like a whale like Wendy? I hang out with her out of pity.

The table roared.

Carter, our class president, frowned. Youre blind, Cory. Wendys bone structure is better than anyone here. If she lost the weight, you wouldnt be fit to tie her shoes.

Silence flickered, then laughter exploded again.

Serious, Carter? Her? Cory scoffed, eyeing me mockingly. If she loses weight and looks half as good as Bella, Ill kneel and apologize. But we all know thatll never happen.

More howls of laughter.

Under the table, my fists clenched. Eight years of secret feelings shattered in that instant.

That night, I stood before my full-length mirror. Five-eight, two hundred pounds.

I made two quiet decisions. One: I would lose the weight. Two: I would not follow him to Columbia.

Back at the restaurant, Bella, the reigning prom queen, had laughed the loudest. She deliberately dropped a greasy piece of pork belly onto my plate.

"Don't be sad, Wendy. Eat up. A full stomach makes you forget everything."

Someone else immediately chimed in. "Exactly! Our Wendy doesn't need a boyfriend. A plate of ribs is all she needs."

The table exploded again.

Cory leaned back in his chair, a lingering smirk playing on his lips as he scrolled through his phone. He acted completely detached, like the humiliation he just orchestrated had nothing to do with him.

Carter shot him a dark look but chose not to start a fight.

Meanwhile, Bella leaned over and whispered something directly into Cory's ear.

Cory let out a low, husky chuckle.

It wasn't loud, but in the chaotic room, I heard it perfectly.

I set my chopsticks down on the ceramic rest.

"I'm heading out."

Bella instantly plastered on a mask of fake concern. "Wendy, please don't be mad. We were honestly just joking around..."

I ignored her completely. I grabbed my purse and walked toward the exit.

As I passed Cory's chair, he didn't even bother to look up. He was too busy texting Bella.

I stopped right beside him.

"Cory."

He finally lifted his head, his eyes laced with heavy impatience.

"What?"

I just looked at him.

My mind flashed back to when we were six years old. He had just moved into the house next door and scraped his knee on the pavement. I was the one who crouched in the dirt, digging desperately through my tiny backpack just to find my only band-aid for him.

When he put it on, he gave me a brilliant, toothy smile.

I held onto that single smile for eight years.

"Every single word you said today." My voice was eerily quiet. "One day, you are going to regret them."

He raised an eyebrow, letting out a dismissive scoff.

"Me? Regret? I guarantee you I will never..."

I didn't stick around to hear the rest. I pushed the heavy restaurant doors open and walked out into the night.

The street was suffocatingly quiet.

My hands were shaking violently, but I refused to let a single tear fall.

It wasn't that I didn't feel the pain. It was because it hurt so deeply that crying felt completely useless.

My best friend Gemma chased after me, grabbing my wrist tightly.

"Wendy, I swear to God I will go back in there right now and dump a drink on his..."

"Gemma." I cut her off, my voice raw and scraped hollow. "Just walk with me."

The amber streetlights stretched our shadows out across the pavement.

We walked for a long time before I finally spoke again.

"He's right about one thing. I am two hundred pounds."

"But he said I could never lose it."

"I am going to make him eat those words."

Gemma bit her lip hard and didn't say a word. She just squeezed my hand tighter.

When I finally got home, the house was completely dark. My parents were already asleep.

I stood alone in the bathroom under the harsh fluorescent lights.

I actually had a medium frame, but it was completely buried. My face was dangerously round, my jawline practically non-existent.

But as I leaned closer to the glass, I saw the truth. My eye shape was striking. The bridge of my nose was naturally high. And there was a tiny, delicate beauty mark resting right beneath the outer corner of my eye.

Carter's words echoed in my ears.

"If she ever lost the weight, you wouldn't even be fit to tie her shoelaces."

Was it true?

I didn't know.

But tonight, my mind was set.

First, I was dropping the weight. My goal was one hundred and fifteen pounds.

Second, I unlocked my phone and logged straight into the university admission portal.

My cursor hovered over Columbia University's Fine Arts program.

I stared at those glowing letters for a long time.

I picked that major three years ago solely to stay close to Cory. I spent countless sleepless nights perfecting my portfolio just to make sure we ended up in the same city.

Enough.

I hit delete.

In the search bar, I typed: UCLA.

Distance: Three thousand miles away.

My thumb hovered over the confirm button.

One second. Two seconds.

I pressed it.

Status: Submitted.

I tossed my phone onto the mattress, switched off the lamp, and stared up at the dark ceiling.

I didn't shed a single tear.

Instead, an unfamiliar, absolute peace washed over my chest.

Wendy, starting tomorrow, you are living for yourself.

The alarm dragged me out of bed at five in the morning. The sky outside was still pitch black.

I laced up my running shoes, stepped out into the freezing air, and started jogging along the river trail.

On the first day, I barely made it a mile before I felt like my lungs were collapsing.

By the third day, I pushed it to two miles. My knees throbbed so badly I could barely walk up the stairs.

On the fifth day, I finished three miles and immediately threw up in the bushes.

But I never skipped a single morning.

On the evening of the sixth day, I was stretching against the brick wall outside my apartment building when Cory walked up. He was returning from the basketball court, spinning a ball on his finger.

He stopped and looked me up and down.

"Why are you dripping in sweat?"

I didn't answer. I just switched legs and kept stretching.

He leaned casually against the wall, his tone dripping with his usual careless arrogance. "People in the group chat are saying you're actually trying to run to lose weight?"

I stayed completely silent.

He just kept talking, convinced he knew everything.

"If you're serious, just buy a gym membership. Jogging on the street won't do anything for a baseline like yours. Honestly... just forget it."

He paused, then shifted the topic. "Anyway, Columbia's orientation is September 3rd. Did you join the freshman group chat yet?"

My hands briefly stalled.

He fully believed I was still going to Columbia.

Everyone did.

I stood up straight, keeping my face completely blank, and walked toward the lobby doors.

He called out from behind me. "Hey, did you join or not? I can send you the invite link..."

The heavy glass door clicked shut, instantly cutting off his voice.

As I walked up the stairs, the corners of my mouth curled up into a cold smile.

Keep waiting, Cory.

When September 3rd rolls around, you'll figure it out.

On the eighth night, someone dropped a video into our high school group chat.

It was a clip of me running along the river.

Heavy, ragged breathing. A sweat-drenched t-shirt clinging to my back. Everything jiggling violently with every heavy step.

Whoever filmed it intentionally zoomed in from the most unflattering angle possible.

[I am screaming laughing. Wendy is actually trying to exercise!!]

[Cory's comment at dinner really did a number on her.]

[Didn't Carter say she had potential? I'm using a magnifying glass and I still can't find a single cheekbone.]

Bella chimed in: [Keep it up, Wendy! Columbia's art department is packed with gorgeous girls. If you don't slim down before orientation, you're going to feel so insecure. Smiley face.]

Then, Cory's name popped up.

My heart skipped a tiny beat.

He wrote:

[Stop posting this childish crap.]

Someone immediately teased: [Aww, is Cory catching feelings?]

He replied instantly:

[You guys have way too much free time. Let her do whatever she wants. What she does has absolutely nothing to do with me.]

Nothing to do with me.

Right. It never had anything to do with him.

I secretly loved him for eight years, and he said it had nothing to do with him.

I bled over my sketchbooks for three years to get into his dream school, and he said it had nothing to do with him.

Fine.

From now on, I truly have nothing to do with you.

I muted the group chat.

I opened Gemma's messages: [I'm going to my grandma's cabin in Montana until college starts. Keep it a secret. If anyone asks, you don't know anything.]

Gemma: [My lips are sealed. Just promise me you'll come back alive.]

I smiled and sent an OK emoji.

Then, I opened my text thread with Cory.

I scrolled through three years of pathetic, one-sided messages.

"My mom made your favorite ribs. Want to come over for dinner?"

"It started raining. I brought an umbrella to the court for you."

"Goodnight."

Every single message was left on read.

Occasionally, he would reply with a cold "Yeah," "Got it," or "Stop bothering me."

I took a deep breath.

Delete contact. Block number.

I didn't hesitate for a single second.

The next morning, I dragged my suitcase out to the sidewalk.

I ran straight into Cory's mother checking her mailbox.

"Wendy, honey, where are you off to?"

"I'm staying with my grandma for the summer, Mrs. Davis."

"Oh, well, when Cory comes over for dinner next week..."

"Mrs. Davis," I smiled politely, "Cory is eighteen now. I don't think he needs my mom cooking for him anymore."

As I dragged my luggage toward the waiting taxi, a window slid open on the second floor of the house next door.

I knew exactly whose bedroom that was.

But I didn't look back.

Not even once.

My grandma's cabin was buried deep in the mountains. Cell service was basically a myth, and Wi-Fi simply did not exist.

The moment I arrived, I turned my phone off and locked it in a drawer.

Every single morning, I woke up at five and ran the brutal mountain trails.

In the afternoons, I swam laps in the freezing lake.

By evening, I was chopping firewood and hauling soil for my grandma's garden.

My diet was violently strict. Boiled chicken breast, steamed vegetables, and small portions of complex carbs.

Week one, I dropped eight pounds. Down to 192.

Week two, another seven. Down to 185.

By week three, the weight loss started slowing down. I forced myself to add an extra mile to my morning run and started doing bodyweight strength training in the dirt.

Week four, 175.

In exactly one month, I had lost twenty-five pounds.

The mirror showed progress, but it wasn't earth-shattering yet.

My face wasn't as bloated, but my jawline was still buried. My clothes hung loosely off my frame, making me look like a deflated balloon.

I didn't let it break my focus.

Keep going.

Week five, 168.

Week six, 160.

I turned my phone on for the very first time.

Dozens of texts flooded the screen.

They were all from Gemma.

[Cory texted me! He asked where you went! I played dumb!]

[He asked me again today! He even asked if you changed your number!]

[LMAO guess what he told the guys. He said, "She's just throwing a tantrum. Give it a few days and she'll come running back."]

I let out a harsh laugh.

Throwing a tantrum?

Cory, you really think you are the center of the universe.

I kept scrolling.

Gemma sent another update:

[He's getting super close with Bella. Today Bella posted a picture of them getting smoothies after his game. The whole group chat is asking if they're officially dating.]

I stared at the message.

I waited for the familiar twist of jealousy in my gut.

Surprisingly, there was nothing.

It didn't hurt.

It genuinely did not hurt anymore.

I powered down the phone and went back to training.

Week seven, 150.

Week eight, 142.

The reflection in the mirror started changing violently.

My jawline carved itself out, sharp and defined. My cheekbones surfaced, making it look like my entire face had been re-sculpted from clay.

My proportions finally made sense. My collarbones were visible. My legs went from stocky to long and lean.

But it wasn't enough.

I knew my absolute best was still hiding underneath.

Keep going.

Week nine, 135.

I drove my grandma's rusty truck down to the local pharmacy to pick up her medication. When I handed the prescription to the young girl at the counter, she froze.

She stared at my face for an uncomfortably long time.

"Are you... an actress? You look exactly like that girl from..."

My grandma quickly grabbed the bag and pulled me out the door.

When we got back to the cabin, my grandma sat on the porch, looking deeply troubled.

"Your mother was exactly like this," she muttered. "Before middle school, she was just a chubby, harmless little thing. Then she lost the baby fat over a single summer, and the entire town went absolutely crazy."

"But you are much more dangerous than your mother."

I laughed it off, thinking she was just being dramatic.

Week ten, 128.

I turned on my phone for the second time.

A fresh text from Gemma:

[Cory told me to warn you that if you don't join the Columbia freshman group soon, you're going to miss room selections. His exact words: "Is she really still throwing a fit? Tell her I'm not going to babysit her on campus, so she better drop the attitude."]

Reading those words, I couldn't help but smile.

He still fully believed I was heading to New York.

He still thought I was going to follow him around like a lost puppy.

Cory, what kind of fever dream are you living in?

I typed a quick reply to Gemma:

[Don't tell a single soul I'm going to UCLA. Especially him. Let him figure it out the hard way.]

Gemma replied with a string of laughing emojis:

[Yes ma'am! I cannot wait to see the look on his stupid face!!!]

Week eleven, 120.

My grandma officially banned me from going into town.

"The day before yesterday, when you were reading by the lake, three boys from the neighboring ranch sat in their truck and stared at you for four straight hours. Did you even notice?"

"...It's not that serious, Grandma."

"Go look in the damn mirror!"

I did.

And then I fell completely silent.

The girl staring back at me was a stranger.

Five foot eight, one hundred and twenty pounds. The weight loss had unlocked every genetic advantage my bone structure possessed.

My features were so sharp they looked completely painted on.

My eyes tipped up slightly at the corners, framed by thick lashes. My lips were a natural, soft rose color.

My collarbones looked like resting butterfly wings, and my waist was impossibly narrow.

And that tiny beauty mark by the corner of my eye was the final, lethal touch that pushed the face from simply "pretty" to absolutely breathtaking.

I stood there for a long time.

Carter was right all along.

Week twelve, 115.

My grandma stood behind me in the mirror and let out a heavy sigh.

"What a tragedy. Your parents spent a decade feeding you good food, and you ruined it all in three months."

I finally spun around. "What are you even talking about? What happened when I was little?!"

My grandma just shook her head and refused to elaborate.

She just mumbled, "When you get to campus, wear a hat. Keep your head down. Don't cause trouble."

I replied with a soft "Okay."

But in my head, I was already picturing it.

Cory. On September 3rd, you are going to stand in the massive crowd at Columbia orientation, looking for me.

You're going to scan every single studio in the Fine Arts building.

You're going to search the entire freshman registry.

But you will never find Wendy.

Because I am gone.

And I will never walk in your shadow again.

The day before my flight to Los Angeles.

Gemma sent me a massive flood of screenshots.

They were all from the high school group chat.

Bella had posted a photo of her and Cory standing in front of the iconic Columbia University gates.

She was leaning heavily against his shoulder, flashing a brilliant smile. The caption read:

[Ready for the next four years together! ~]

The chat immediately exploded with gossip.

[Wait, are you guys officially a couple now?!]

[You guys look amazing together! The ultimate power couple of Columbia!]

Cory rarely ever engaged in the chat, but this time he replied, his tone arrogant and relaxed:

[Chill out, we're just friends.]

Someone else quickly typed:

[Hey, where's Wendy? Didn't she get into Columbia too? I haven't seen her in any of the freshman orientation posts.]

Bella replied instantly: [She's probably still busy trying to lose weight LOL. I mean, the art department is packed with models. If she showed up weighing 200 pounds...]

She followed it up with a string of crying-laughing emojis.

Cory's reply came seconds later:

[She's still throwing a tantrum. She'll show up in a day or two.]

Someone teased: [You know her so well, Cory~]

He replied: [We grew up together. I know exactly how her brain works. Give her two days and she'll cave.]

I stared at that specific message for a very long time.

"I know exactly how her brain works."

Cory.

You literally know absolutely nothing about me.

You don't know that I dropped eighty-five pounds.

You don't know that I am currently boarding a flight three thousand miles away.

And you definitely don't know that the Wendy who would have died for your attention is already dead.

I closed the screenshots and calmly packed my outfit for tomorrow.

A crisp white button-down. A flowing black maxi skirt.

That was all I needed.

September 1st. UCLA's Freshman Welcome Gala.

The massive campus auditorium was packed with three thousand students.

The Fashion Design department's runway show was slotted right before the finale.

I was walking as the closing model.

The backstage area was absolute chaos. The girls walking before me were sweating through their makeup, shaking with nerves.

I felt nothing but absolute, freezing calm.

Five foot eight. One hundred and fifteen pounds.

I tucked the white silk shirt into the high-waisted black skirt. It made my legs look endless.

The senior makeup artist's hands were literally trembling as she dusted powder over my cheekbones.

"Are you... seriously a freshman?"

I offered a small smile but didn't say a word.

The last thought that drifted through my mind before the music swelled was that Cory was probably still scrolling through the Columbia group chats, waiting for my name to pop up.

Keep waiting.

"And our final look, presented by freshman design major... Wendy."

I stepped out onto the runway directly on the heavy bass drop.

The exact second the blinding spotlights hit my body.

Three thousand people collectively lost their voices.

It wasn't just quiet.

It was absolute, suffocating silence.

Like the entire room had suddenly forgotten how to breathe.

I wore no heavy makeup. No glittering jewelry.

Just a clean, flawless face, an effortless ponytail, and that tiny beauty mark resting by my eye.

I walked down the center of the runway, my heels clicking rhythmically against the glass floor.

The dead silence lasted for three agonizing seconds.

And then, the auditorium exploded.