Just A Plus-Size Ugly Woman Nah She's His Unreachable Queen

OLIVIA

It was almost midnight, and I still couldn't sleep. My conversation with Grace kept replaying in my head like a jammed old tape recorder.

I slipped out of bed quietly and picked up the old phone as I walked into the living room. Even though I'd changed my number long ago, this battered flip phone still mattered to me-it was the only way my grandmother insisted on contacting me. She lived in a nursing home on the outskirts of Georgia. Whenever she couldn't reach my new number, she stubbornly left repeated voicemails on this old one.

I turned on the phone and opened the nearly abandoned WhatsApp account.

112 unread messages.

All of them were from a group chat called "EHS 10-Year Reunion"-the alumni group for Eagle Heights School, my private high school in San Francisco.

The first thing I did was turn off read receipts.

Let them keep thinking I was dead.

I scrolled to the pinned message from the group admin, William Anderson. Just as Grace had said, he'd posted the full details of the reunion scheduled for this Saturday night, to be held at a seaside villa in Sausalito.

Emma, if you're going through any difficulties in life, you can always tell us. We'd be happy to help.

I snorted, not even bothering to lift my eyelids.

William Anderson. Third generation of the Anderson family. His father was one of California's earliest private senior-housing developers, and William himself was now the nominal director of the Anderson Trust Foundation-and a notorious playboy in social circles.

Him offering to "help" me?

Only if he'd lost a round of truth-or-dare while drunk.

I gripped the phone tightly, my knuckles turning white. I'd heard plenty of hollow words over the years, but this one deserved a trophy. These people had never truly seen me-let alone reached out when I was at my lowest. They didn't want to see me. They just wanted to see what kind of joke the "fat nerd" had turned into.

I didn't reply to a single message.

Just as I'd always believed-Emma Cooper had been "dead" for a long time.

I kept scrolling through the chat. As expected, no one mentioned me. Nearly every conversation revolved around one person.

Noah Morgan.

Someone said he'd returned after completing a combined MD/PhD at Columbia University and was now working at St. Gabriel Medical Center on Manhattan's Upper East Side-one of the youngest cardiothoracic consultants there. Someone else commented that he'd "been winning at life since his all-boys-school days." Another person posted a recent photo of him, muscles clearly visible beneath his white coat.

The comments flooded in:

"Is it even fair that our asshole heartthrob turned into a doctor and got even hotter?"

I stared at the photo for a long time, my heartbeat slowing as if it had skipped a beat.

Friday finally arrived.

It was the day our team had been counting down to. We were all gathered in the conference room, and the client had arrived as well.

Because this was a major account, Matthew Caldwell was also present. As the CEO of Brightwave Media and the chairman's eldest son, Matthew carried enormous influence in San Francisco's advertising and media circles. A Wharton graduate, he'd returned to the Bay Area to take over the company, implementing data-driven strategies and segmented luxury branding-earning widespread industry praise.

I had already spoken to him about his sister's interference. He'd shaken his head and apologized on her behalf.

Isabel Caldwell was his half-sister and the company's creative director. Her mother had been the former editor-in-chief of Elegance, a well-known fashion magazine. Isabel inherited her mother's taste and ambition-but not her practical ability. Her position came largely from nepotism. She grew up in Los Angeles and only moved to San Francisco to live with their father after Matthew graduated high school.

We presented our original proposal first. The client was clearly pleased. I felt a rush of relief-I knew the deal was very likely to close.

Then we presented Isabel's alternative proposal.

The client's feedback was exactly what I'd told Isabel it would be.

Our team struggled not to smile-especially when we saw Isabel's reaction. She tried to defend her idea, but Matthew shut her down. In family matters, he never hid his authority. He indulged her verbally, but never spared her incompetence.

We closed the deal successfully. The client chose our original proposal.

The team was ecstatic.

Isabel was not.

"Congratulations, everyone. Excellent work, as always," Matthew said with a smile, his tone lightly teasing. "I know you all put a lot into this project-especially Isabel, with the additional proposal."

It was his way of saving face for his sister.

We exchanged knowing looks and thanked him.

"This calls for a celebration!" Matthew announced enthusiastically. "Let's head to Battery Park tomorrow night!"

Battery Park was a waterfront leisure area in southern downtown San Francisco, near the financial district and startup hubs. Employees from advertising, creative, and finance firms often gathered there on weekends to celebrate or unwind. Brightwave's office was in SOMA-less than a twenty-minute walk away.

I hadn't planned on going.

I needed to take care of Hannah.

But work socializing was practically encoded in Manhattan DNA. I needed this job-and I needed the commission. So I decided I'd go.

Just not for long.

Something about the park's location nagged at me-it felt oddly familiar. But I quickly pushed the unease aside.

All I could see was the incoming commission and Hannah's surgery.

Noah

I'd just finished surgery and arrived near Battery Park later than planned.

Mostly because Manhattan traffic is a goddamn nightmare.

I shouldn't have come.

But the thought of seeing Emma made me go anyway.

The moment I stepped into the private room, William walked straight over and punched my chest lightly, grinning like an asshole.

"Hey, guys-" he scanned the room and raised his voice. "New York's sexiest doctor is here! Who was asking to see his abs? Now's your chance."

Laughter exploded around the room. A few old classmates even clapped. Someone whistled.

I frowned and scanned the room.

She wasn't there.

No Emma.

I forced myself to stay composed and turned to William. "I can't drink. I might get a call from the hospital at any moment."

He shrugged, about to respond, when a tall woman stepped closer. Perfume washed over me.

Charlotte.

"Noah," she said with a smile, lightly touching my chest. "Do you have a girlfriend now?"

"Yeah, Noah," she added boldly. "We haven't seen you in years... but we're all curious. Do you have a girlfriend?"

She'd been sitting with William's group, practically leaning against him. I only vaguely remembered her from high school. She'd always been popular, always surrounded by admirers.

Just not me.

I glanced at her, my tone cool. "I've been busy with my MD and PhD abroad. No time for dating. Even now, my schedule's packed-I barely have time for family, let alone a relationship."

Charlotte didn't seem bothered by my indifference. She shifted closer, her fingers brushing my shirt as she spoke.

"I heard you're a heart specialist. Does that mean you're really good at taking care of hearts?"

As she spoke, her hand settled boldly on my chest.

Instinctively, I raised my hand and pushed hers away.

The group burst into laughter. They all knew exactly what she was doing.

Charlotte shot me an angry look and moved aside.

William swooped in at just the right moment, handing me a glass. "I know you don't drink anymore, so I ordered you fresh orange juice."

He was right. Since becoming a doctor, I'd stopped drinking altogether.

"Thanks," I said quietly.

After that, although I could still feel curious glances drifting my way, no one tried to get too close.

I sipped my drink, my eyes constantly flicking toward the door.

Every time it opened, my heart jumped.

Every time, I was disappointed.

I wanted to see her again.

Seven years had passed, and I still couldn't forget her. I knew she'd liked me-especially after that night together. I'd felt it in every touch, every kiss. Her emotions had been woven into every moment.

So how could she erase me from her life so easily?

A loud voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

"Megan, what happened to you? You got fat!" someone joked cruelly.

I looked up immediately.

"That's normal after having a baby, you idiot!" Megan snapped back.

Laughter erupted. Glasses clinked. Music swallowed the moment.

"Speaking of weight gain," William said casually, "has anyone heard from Emma Cooper? I've messaged her a few times-no response. I even asked Grace, but she hasn't heard anything either."

At the sound of her name, my entire body went rigid.

I forced my expression neutral, fighting to keep my reaction hidden.

"Haven't you heard the rumor about Emma?" someone asked.

"What rumor?" William leaned forward, intrigued.

"Emma... is dead."

The words hung heavily in the air.

The room fell silent.

I nearly dropped my glass.

My heart clenched violently.

That couldn't be true. It couldn't.

I wanted to shout-but I didn't. I swallowed the storm threatening to consume me.

"Is that really true?" Charlotte asked in disbelief. "Is that why she cut off contact? Why she never came to any reunions?"

"It makes sense," William said thoughtfully. "Maybe that's why Grace couldn't tell me anything. But how did she die? Does anyone know?"

"I heard someone from our class saw her in a hospital," Athena said.

"That was me," Evelyn spoke up, raising her hand.

Everyone turned to her.

Evelyn sighed, her voice tinged with sadness. "It was six years ago. I took my grandmother to the hospital-she was very sick. I saw Emma there. She'd lost a lot of weight, but her stomach was swollen... like a tumor."

"That's terrible," someone murmured.

"Noah," William said, looking straight at me, "since you're a doctor, maybe you can explain that tumor. Was it terminal? I remember her family wasn't well-off. Maybe they couldn't afford treatment, and that's why she didn't make it."

All eyes turned to me.

Waiting.

My heart felt like it had been shot.

I couldn't speak.

I turned abruptly and stormed out of the room.

And then-

A woman crashed into my chest.

I instinctively caught her by the waist, pulling her close.

That familiar scent hit me.

My eyes widened-