I was lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling with a sullen expression.
I had skipped breakfast, lunch, and even dinner. All I had consumed today was water, yet my stomach kept pleading for mercy, begging me to eat something.
I reached for the drawer beside my bed, where I kept a stash of snacks. I thought about eating a little to ease my hunger, but I couldn't.
Every bite would turn into grams, then kilograms. I'd gain weight, become ugly and fat, disappoint my father. Fans would stop loving me, and haters would laugh at my failure.
That's what my father told me. So, I closed the drawer and abandoned the idea.
I can endure it. Just one week without food—only water.
I can do this…
I can…
___
Four days passed in the blink of an eye. As I sat in my room, surrounded by silence, faint noises from downstairs broke my thoughts. The sounds were familiar… I instantly realized that my mother had returned from her business trip!
I went downstairs with a wide smile on my face. I saw her standing with my father, talking to him. I quickly rushed toward her and hugged her tightly.
"Mom, I missed you!"
She didn't return the hug. Perhaps she was too tired from her trip. She simply replied in a soft voice:
"I missed you too."
She pulled away, and I followed them to the dining table, taking a seat beside them.
The servants placed dishes in front of them before leaving.
Mom glanced at me sideways and asked:
"Aren't you going to eat?"
"I'm on a diet," I replied briefly. She asked again:
"What kind of diet?"
"J-just water… for the whole week."
She set down her chopsticks and looked sharply at my father.
"What kind of diet is that? Are you trying to kill your son?"
"It's only for a week," he replied calmly.
"If you want him to diet, give him a proper plan. I don't want us to end up in a scandal, with everyone talking about us."
A scandal? People talking about us? Does Mom really care about what others think? No, that can't be it. These must be just secondary reasons. She's arguing with Dad for my sake, for my health.
I stood up and quietly headed to my room, leaving them to continue their argument.
As soon as I entered, I opened my drawer and grabbed a pack of butter cookies. I ate a few pieces.
I don't want my parents to face any problems. I don't want people talking about them.
But for some reason, my stomach started hurting after just a few bites. I rushed to the bathroom and vomited.
I hadn't eaten anything in days, so why did those few cookies make me feel so sick?
I washed my face and mouth, then looked at my exhausted reflection in the mirror.
I don't feel okay.
I'm hungry, but just looking at food makes me lose my appetite.