The house was quiet again.
Too quiet.
I stayed in my room for a while.
Just sitting there.
Not doing anything.
My body felt tired.
But my head felt worse.
Everything kept replaying.
The trainers.
The way they looked at me.
The way they spoke to me like…
like I was already someone else.
And then—
my door opened.
My mom walked in.
She didn't say anything at first.
She just stood there.
Holding it.
The tape.
My chest tightened immediately.
"Come here," she said softly.
I didn't move.
"Andrew."
"I'm here," I replied quietly.
"That's not what I meant."
I looked away.
"I don't want to do this," I said.
"You have to."
"That's not fair."
"It's not about fair."
That answer again.
I shook my head.
"This is too much."
She stepped closer.
"No. This is necessary."
"For what?" I asked, my voice tightening.
"For people to believe something that isn't even real?"
She didn't answer that.
"Lift your shirt."q
I didn't move.
"Andrew."
"No."
The word came out stronger this time.
The room went quiet.
For a second… I thought she might get angry.
But she didn't.
She just looked at me.
Tired.
"Sweetie," she said quietly,
"we've already talked about this."
That made it worse.
I swallowed.
Then slowly…
I lifted my shirt.
I immediately felt exposed.
She looked at me.
Then said it.
Calm.
Too calm.
"You don't even have much there."
I froze.
She continued.
"You're barely even an A."
My face burned instantly.
"Mum…" I muttered.
"I'm just being realistic," she said.
That didn't help.
At all.
"Stand still."
I forced myself not to move.
Her hands were careful.
Precise.
Like she had already done this in her head a hundred times.
"Make sure it stays flat," she said.
"No folds."
I nodded slightly.
Not really listening.
All I could think about was how uncomfortable this felt.
How wrong it felt.
How I didn't want this.
She stepped back.
"Look."
I didn't.
"Look."
I hesitated.
Then slowly turned toward the mirror.
I stared.
Flatter.
Too flat.
It didn't look like me
I pulled my shirt down quickly.
"This doesn't feel right."
"You'll get used to it."
"I don't want to get used to it."
She didn't respond.
"If you train your chest," she continued,
"you won't even need this later."
I frowned.
"You could even go shirtless. No one would question it."
I looked at her.
"Why would I want that?"
"You'll understand later."
That answer again.
She handed the tape to me.
"Do it yourself."
I didn't take it at first.
Then slowly… I did.
My hands felt shaky.
Awkward.
I didn't know what I was doing.
And I didn't want to.
But I tried anyway.
Because what else was I supposed to do?
When I finished…
I looked at the mirror again.
For a moment…
I just stared.
Trying to recognize something.
Anything.
But I couldn't.
"Good," she said.
I stayed quiet.
Because right now…
nothing about this felt good.
Days passed.
Then weeks.
And then…
months.
After a few months…
it stopped feeling new.
Not better.
Just… normal.
The training continued.
Every day.
"Again."
"Fix it."
"Straighten up."
I stopped arguing as much.
Not because I agreed.
Just because I was tired.
At some point…
I stopped noticing when things changed.
That scared me the most.
Nights were the worst.
That's when everything came back.
Andrea.
Not clearly.
But enough.
Sometimes I'd sit on the floor.
Just staring.
Not crying.
Not thinking.
Just… there.
Like my body was there.
But I wasn't.
I stopped calling Sarah.
She didn't call either.
Until one day.
I was walking past my mom's office.
I wasn't trying to listen.
But I heard my name.
"…just keep updating me," my mom said.
I slowed down.
Without meaning to.
"I am," a voice replied.
I froze.
Sarah.
My chest tightened instantly.
"I told you he's adjusting," she continued.
He.
I didn't move.
"You'll get the rest later," my mom said.
A pause.
"Thank you… for the payment," Sarah replied.
Everything went silent.
My heart dropped.
Payment?
I stood there.
Not moving.
Not breathing.
"…just make sure he doesn't suspect anything," my mom said.
"I won't," Sarah replied quickly.
That was it.
I walked away slowly.
Before they could hear me.
Back to my room.
I closed the door.
And just stood there.
For a long time.
My chest felt tight again.
But different this time.
Not just pressure.
Something breaking.
I sat down slowly.
My hands felt cold.
Sarah.
All this time…
Everything.
Fake.
I let out a small laugh.
It didn't sound right.
Of course.
Of course it was.
I leaned back against the wall.
Staring at nothing.
And for the first time in a while…
I felt something clearly.
Not confusion.
Not pressure.
Just…
hurt.
Real hurt.
And somehow…