My Figure’s Gone Saggy

After I turned thirty-five, my body fell apart. My skin grew sallow, and fine lines bloomed at the corners of my eyes. Once, in the middle of it all, Damian’s hand squeezed the soft flesh of my stomach. “You know,” he said suddenly, “looking closely, you’re pretty average. How did I ever fall for you?”

1 I never thought my career as a caged bird would end at thirty-five. At that moment, my head was tilted back, my eyes fixed on the ornate carvings of the ceiling—the work of some foreign master, I’d heard. Very expensive. I always stared at it whenever Damian came to see me. In the beginning, he would grab my hair, forcing my gaze to meet his. He had beautiful, jewel-like eyes and the lazy grace of an exotic cat. But his grip was strong, and the roots of my hair would burn with pain. The scene might have looked passionate, but my pillow was always littered with strands of hair, tinged with blood. Damian’s voice would echo in my ear, a demonic whisper. “Anna, why can’t you just look at me?” Over time, our relationship… stabilized. At least we no longer fought like animals before ending up in bed. He stopped demanding my constant attention. He even unlocked the chains from my wrists. But by then, I had stopped trying to run.

2 My breath came in ragged gasps. I couldn’t keep up with him anymore. My hazy gaze drifted down from the ceiling and landed on Damian’s body, a testament to raw power. He’d been to a tanning salon; his bronzed skin was undeniably sexy. It was infuriating how a man over thirty could still flash such a roguish, bad-boy grin. It wasn’t just me; girls half my age would have fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker. In contrast, my thighs were just loose, flabby flesh. My silk nightgown had a tear in it, but I couldn’t be bothered to change. Damian threw on a robe and sank into the armchair across the room. His features were lost in shadow, but his sharp, chiseled profile made him look like a marble statue. I pretended I hadn’t heard his question. “I’ll start a diet tomorrow.” He chuckled. “Sweetheart, that’s not what I mean.” He tapped the ash from his cigarette, his voice laced with a careless cruelty. “What I mean is, you were never that special. It was my love for you that put a filter on everything.” He made an exploding gesture with his hands. “And now, the filter’s shattered.” He walked out without a backward glance, his final words a mix of disgust and relief. “Anna, you’re free.” It took me a long time to process that sentence. My first reaction wasn’t the ecstatic joy of newfound freedom, but a deep, burning rage. The man who had sworn he loved me most, who had morbidly talked about mixing our ashes together after death, was now dumping me. The anger gave way to a wave of sorrow, and then, a vast, terrifying emptiness. Damian had broken me. For ten years, I’d been waited on hand and foot. No social life, no friends. I’d forgotten how to use a smartphone. The TV in my room was locked to foreign channels and would shut off automatically after eight. My world was confined to this villa and the half-mountain behind it—the private Blackwood estate. I was, in every sense, Damian’s property. And now, I had nowhere to go.

3 I had sensed Damian was changing for a while. In the beginning, he was suffocatingly clingy, always calling me his “Anna,” his moon, his everything. I went from agonizing pain to a slow, reluctant anticipation of his visits. Eventually, when he called my name, I started to respond. He would wrap me in a soft blanket, his touch gentle as he treated the raw wounds on my wrists. His fingertips would be stained with my blood, and he’d look down at me, his eyes overflowing with a twisted sort of tenderness. “Anna, does it hurt?” he would murmur, his eyelashes trembling like a butterfly’s wings. “You can hit me, but you must never, ever hurt yourself.” He was so gentle. So convincing. But then, his visits dwindled to once a month. Then once every three months. Then every six. Until finally, he threw me out. After ten years as a prized canary, I was unemployed.

4 I didn’t have many things. All my clothes had been bought by Damian. He loved dressing me up, like a doll. One day it would be an elaborate, ruffled Lolita dress, the next a simple, pure-white sundress. I wore whatever he gave me. When he stopped buying me clothes, I simply lived in my nightgowns. Before leaving, I looked in the mirror one last time. The woman in the reflection was puffy, her skin oily, her hair a tangled, unkempt mess. No wonder Damian didn’t want me anymore. But then… what version of me did he ever want?

5 I left the villa with a single suitcase. Inside were my ID, my passport, and a few old business suits. “Where should I go?” I asked the butler. He sighed, a hint of pity in his eyes. “Go home, miss.” The sunlight felt gentle, but it stung my eyes. As I walked down the street in my disheveled state, people stared. The shopping mall I remembered was now a desolate, empty shell. The city’s bustling heart was now a forest of skyscrapers, none of them familiar. Even the roads had been widened to four lanes. A desperate urge washed over me. I wanted to go back to the villa, to beg Damian to let me stay. I’d be good. I promised I wouldn’t cause any more trouble. A passerby must have thought I was having a breakdown, because they called the police. The officer used my ID to contact my next of kin. A voice I knew instantly came through the phone. “Mark!” I cried out without thinking. On the other end, there was a clatter, the sound of something shattering, followed by an urgent, breathless voice. “Anna? Is that you? Don’t move. Stay right where you are. I’m coming to get you.” Mark. My boyfriend. Of that, I was certain. I blinked, and tears blurred my vision. When he finally arrived, he was a watery smudge in front of me. He knelt down, his hands trembling as he took mine. “Where have you been all these years? We all thought you died on that research trip.” Mark was sobbing. I lifted my head, my own voice shaking as I asked, “My parents… where are they? Why didn’t they come?” His grip on my hand tightened. His voice was heavy. “Let’s go home.”

6 This was Mark’s home. It wasn’t mine. A child’s walker was parked in the hallway, and as we approached the door, I could already hear the clamor from inside. The piercing shouts of children, and a woman’s firm voice. “No! I told you, you can have a snack after you finish your homework!” The children’s whining pleas overlapped. “Please, Mom? Just one!” Mark’s eyes were full of apology. He wouldn’t look at me. I felt a pang of awkwardness and turned away, staring at a pile of things in the corner. His apartment was on the top floor, the only one on that landing, and the small alcove outside served as a storage space. It was filled with family clutter: a walker, a soccer ball, a kite, a child’s electronic keyboard. Every item was a testament to a happy, bustling family life. A sour taste rose from my heart to the back of my throat, stinging my eyes. We were supposed to get married right after graduation. Mark handed me a pair of shoe covers while fumbling for his keys. “You can stay with us for now.” The moment the door opened, a pair of twins rushed out and clung to his legs. “Daddy, Daddy! Where did you go? Mommy’s waiting for you for dinner!” A woman appeared, her expression impatient. “Mark, you get a call and just leave without a word? Do you even see me as your wife?” Her tirade stopped short the moment she saw me. “Anna?” she whispered. I recognized her. She was a younger student from our department. Lily. Lily’s expression froze. She stepped aside, ordered the children back to their seats, and assumed the role of hostess. She found a pair of slippers for me. “Mark, really,” she chided gently, “you can’t have Anna wear shoe covers.” She took my hand, guiding me inside. “Dinner’s ready. The Coke chicken wings are still hot.” The atmosphere at the dinner table was thick with unspoken things. Lily didn’t ask where I’d been. She just said, “Anna, please, stay as long as you need. Don’t worry about me.” I paused with a piece of chicken halfway to my mouth. Lily must have noticed how much weight I’d gained. I used to be so strict with my diet, rarely touching carbs. I’d even peel the skin off chicken wings. At university gatherings, Mark would do it for me, and I’d bask in his affection, and in the envious glances of others. Lily had been one of them. She’d always admired Mark, but he’d never looked her way. Not until I went to the Amazon for a specimen collection trip. There was a terrorist attack in the region, and that same year, I vanished without a trace. Mark finally spoke. “Lily was the one who stayed by my side, who helped me through the darkest time. The police couldn’t find you. Everyone told me to move on. So… Lily and I got married.” I stared at him, the chicken in my mouth turning bitter. I knew. Ten years is an eternity. No one waits forever. Everyone moves forward. It felt like I was the only one trapped in the past. “Where were you all this time?” Mark asked. I couldn’t tell him. Damian had terrified me into silence. During my captivity, I once managed to rig an antenna and make a brief call to Mark. It was just a few beeps, but it was enough for him to trace the signal to the villa. Damian found out immediately. He bound my hands and shoved me into his car. I saw Mark on the street, handing out missing person flyers. He had no idea that the woman he was desperately searching for was sitting inside the black Range Rover passing him by. Damian pried my eyes open, forcing me to watch. “This is a warning,” he sneered. A motorcycle sped past, deliberately swerving and slamming into Mark. He crumpled to the ground, lying motionless in a pool of his own blood amid the scattered flyers. I screamed, desperate to get help, but Damian held me fast. The tinted window reflected only my own horrified face. I learned my lesson after that. I never tried to contact Mark again. I knew if I ever revealed that Damian was holding me captive, he had a thousand ways to silence me forever. So I just shook my head. “I don’t know.” “It’s okay,” Mark said softly. “You can tell me when you’re ready.” I couldn’t meet his eyes. He was no longer mine. I mechanically chewed my rice, each grain tasteless. Suddenly, Lily burst into tears. I looked at her, bewildered. Fat, hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she apologized over and over. “Anna, I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have taken advantage… I shouldn’t have stolen Mark from you! I’ll give him back, just please, forgive me!” She gripped my hand so tightly it hurt. My mind was a chaotic mess; I didn’t know what to say. “Anna, I’m so, so sorry!” Her tears scalded the scars on my wrist. The marks were so obvious, yet no one had seen them. I remembered when Mark and I were together, I’d gotten a tiny scrape on my finger while we were making a sculpture. It was barely red, but he’d fretted over it, rushing to find ointment. Now, his eyes only saw Lily. I knew, with a painful clarity, that the past was gone. “It’s not your fault. Mark and I just weren’t meant to be.” Lily looked up, about to say more, but Mark pulled her away. Their hushed argument quickly escalated into a full-blown fight. The children, terrified, started wailing. The storm ended with Lily slamming the door and storming out. Mark ran after her, but not before telling me to stay put. I knelt on the floor, picking up scattered toys. The twins ran over and shoved me hard. “You ugly woman, get out of our house! Mommy and Daddy only fight when you’re here!” “Yeah, go away! We don’t want you!” I lost my balance and tumbled to the floor. Their tiny fists rained down on me, each blow a dull, heavy ache. Seeing I wasn’t leaving, they started crying at the top of their lungs, as if terrified I’d stay forever. “Get out! Leave my house!” “I want my Mommy and Daddy! I don’t want them to fight!” Watching them, so hysterical and helpless, I saw a reflection of myself. A flood of long-buried memories returned. The truth was, my relationship with Damian was never good. I was never captivated by him. I was just… out of options. When he first imprisoned me, I had fought back. I had screamed at him, just like these children were screaming now. He’d slapped me so hard my eardrum rang, and I had scrambled backward in terror. He’d pulled me into his arms, my body trembling uncontrollably, as he whispered apologies again and again. My resistance only made him more extreme. The constant friction of iron chains on my wrists and ankles left them a mass of scarred, calloused tissue, a cycle of wounds healing over wounds. He tried to brainwash me, telling me that if I just learned to love him, the pain would stop. But you can’t love a monster in a bespoke suit. To me, Damian was just a student from my department. He had been diligent and serious, and despite his wealthy background, he was humble. I’d respected him for that. I’d taken him on as my mentee, we’d collected samples in the mountains together. I had even complimented his beautiful eyes once. When our research made a breakthrough, we were interviewed by the media. Under the glare of the spotlights, Damian’s gaze on me was full of adoration. “Congratulations, Anna,” he had said. “You’re going to be at the very top of the scientific community.” Then his head dropped, a shadow of sadness crossing his face. “Will you still remember me then?” I ruffled his thick, soft hair. “Of course. We promised we’d work together to solve organ transplant rejection, didn’t we?” Back then, I could never have imagined that one day I would end up like this. He resented that the moon in the sky wouldn’t shine for him alone. So he dragged it down into the mud. And then, it was no longer the moon he wanted. He gave me pills. Medication that stabilized my mood but dulled my mind. Over time, my cognition blurred, and my memories fractured. Just as he wanted, I became obedient.

7 Ten years changes everything. No one waits in the same place forever. I didn’t blame Mark, and I had no intention of destroying his family. We just… missed our chance. “Almost.” It’s such a cruel word. I wished this was all a nightmare. That I’d wake up and my parents would be sitting by my bed, asking me what was wrong. That Mark would still be twenty-six, his promising career not derailed by a car crash. That I would still be my professor’s star student, charging toward my goals. But when I opened my eyes, I was still surrounded by crying children. The food on the table was cold. The world felt cold, suffocating. I struggled to my feet, wiped my tears, and left. Though my memories were fragmented, a small mercy surfaced: I remembered where my home was. I stumbled through the streets, clinging to the hope that once I got home, everything would be okay. But when I arrived, there was no warm welcome waiting. I knocked for what felt like an eternity, but no one answered. A thick layer of dust coated the doormat. The motion-activated light in the hallway flickered on and off as I continued to pound on the cold, metal door. “Mom, open the door! I’m home!” “Dad, it’s me! I don’t have my key, can you let me in?” I even pulled out my phone, pretending to send messages, as hot tears splattered onto the back of my hand. “Mom, are you out shopping? Please come back soon, I can’t get in.” “Dad, did you go fishing? I forgot my key, you need to come home and open the door.” The loud banging finally disturbed the neighbors. A woman opened her door and snapped at me. “Can you keep it down? The old couple who lived there passed away last year.” She took in my appearance, her tone hardening as if I were some crazy person off the street. “Who are you? If you don’t leave now, I’m calling the police!” Finally, a sob tore from my throat. “I’m their daughter!” Almost. Just a little closer… and I would have been home.