My Husband Pushed Me to Diet — Story of the Day

Utterly gorgeous Megan is trapped in a loveless marriage to a man who forces her to eat nothing but cucumbers and water to stay "trim". Half-starved, she manages to find a way to fight out of the abuse thanks to an unlikely ally who shows up at her door.

My stomach growled just like always, and each chart taped to the refrigerator – where Boris tracked and planned my diet – mocked me. He was my husband and my food jailer.

But suddenly, a whiff of warm cheese and savory sauce drifted in as I opened the door.

The pizza delivery guy—Miles, if I remembered his name tag—stood on the other side of the threshold.

Boris monitored my every bite, but he did what he wanted for himself, so he ordered right in front of me, and I had to resist the temptation.

My hand hovered over the box, then I snatched it away, shame and hunger twisting in my gut.

Miles shifted awkwardly, waiting for me to take the box inside. "Uh, ma'am?" He hesitated, "Do you want the pizza or not?"

My mouth watered, and a surge of desperate recklessness pushed the words past my lips. "Just a slice," I whispered, grabbing a triangle.

The first bite was a revelation. For a moment, the kitchen with its charts and clinical cupboards faded away, replaced by a sense of stolen, sinful pleasure.

And then Boris' voice cut through the air like a whip. "Megan! What are you doing?"

I froze with the half-eaten slice of pizza still in my hand. Boris stood right behind me, although he had ordered me to receive his pizza.

"You think you can sneak food behind my back? Do you think I'm an idiot, woman?"

The shame washed over me, hot and sickening. But beneath it, I felt… so angry.

"I was hungry," I said, my voice surprisingly strong. "Just one slice, Boris. What's the harm in that?"

He took a menacing step closer, nostrils flaring. "The harm? The harm is your disobedience, your lack of self-control! You know the rules, Megan. We had an agreement! And you chose to break it. Why?"

His words, normally so effective in crushing my spirit, felt hollow today.

"Maybe I'm finally tired," I said through gritted teeth, "tired of starving, tired of living under your thumb. Just one slice, Boris, and you act like it's the end of the world."

His face thundered as he grabbed the pizza box, slammed the door in Miles' face, and stared at me like I had committed the biggest sin.

My legs wobbled as I backed away, my heart pounding a frantic drumbeat. He was seconds from exploding.

"You will regret this, Megan," Boris snarled as he set the pizza on the kitchen countertop. "Don't think there won't be consequences."

With that menacing phrase, he walked to the front door and left for his afternoon shift.

Shaking, I collapsed onto a kitchen chair, tears stinging my eyes. That single bite of freedom had brought swift retribution.

A loud rap at the back door startled me. My heart sank. Had Boris returned already? Wiping my tears, I cautiously peered outside.

Miles stood there. Still?

"Mrs…uh, Megan?" he said hesitantly. "I was outside, and I couldn't help but hear…"

A wave of shame nearly drove me to turn him away. Yet, I longed for some kindness, some understanding from anyone.

Boris had slowly, methodically cut me off from everyone, so I did something else that would make my husband very angry.

"Come on in," I said after opening the door, almost surprising myself.

He stepped into the living room, looking around our nice place.

I gestured to the couch, needing to sit, to steady myself before we said anything. He took a seat opposite me, maintaining a careful distance between us.

"I… I know it's not my business, but your husband, he… Well, I heard what he said, and it didn't sound right," Miles said, awkwardly tapping his knees.

"Right?" I scoffed, my voice laced with bitterness. "You don't even know the half of it."

And unexpectedly, the words I've been craving to say began tumbling out. I told him about the charts, the scales, the constant monitoring, and the threat of punishment if I didn't conform to Boris's impossible standards.

Miles listened, a crease appearing between his brows.

"He wants to break you," Miles said quietly when I finally choked out my story. "Bit by bit, until you're just a shadow of yourself. That's not love, Megan. It's… sick."

He offered no pity, just a quiet understanding, and it was something I clung to. Something changed in his expression when we talked of the weight monitoring system I had to go through.

I had to weigh myself every day at the same time, and the results went directly to an app on my husband's phone.

"There has to be a way to fool the system," I said, hope catching in my throat. "To give me just a moment of respite, without fear."

Miles leaned forward, a thoughtful look replacing his concern. "There just might be," he said with a slight grin, "a way to fight back."

***

The plan was audacious, reckless, and thrillingly dangerous. Our weapon: a bag full of water – a simple trick to fool the digital scale that governed my life.

"Weigh-in time," came the dreaded robotic chirp from Boris's app, an electronic reminder of my imprisonment.

I placed the bag on the bathroom scale with trembling hands.

Miles adjusted the weight meticulously. As soon as the water weight hit, the numbers on the app blinked and finally appeared: it was the exact number Boris always demanded.

A laugh bubbled up from deep within me, a sound I barely recognized. "We did it," I whispered.

Miles offered a tentative smile. "One battle won… for now."

We celebrated our tiny rebellion with the forgotten pizza, cold and congealed, but tasting like victory. But another beeping sound came, one that wasn't as familiar as the weight app.

"The house is on lockdown," the robotic sound echoed.

"Oh no!" I said, terrified. "Boris locked the house. He knows what happened!"

"What?"

"He controls this entire house remotely. I didn't think he would check the cameras, but he must have!" I explained, blinking rapidly at the tears in my eyes.

Miles rushed to the door, the windows, the back panels… it was useless. He couldn't get out. Neither of us could.

But even worse than the robotic echoes in my house was the screech of tires against the driveway. Boris.

"He's here!" I wailed.

Through the window, we saw Boris march towards the house, his face excusing fury.

Miles grabbed a throw pillow, holding it like a shield as the front door burst open.

Boris let out a roar, which became another sound that I never wanted to hear again.

"You miserable excuse for a wife!" he bellowed, his eyes landing on me. "I knew you'd betray me!"

He lunged at me, but Miles was faster. He shoved the pillow into Boris's face, momentarily disorienting him.

This wasn't the pizza delivery guy anymore – this was an ally, fueled by the same injustice I felt.

Surprisingly, I didn't freeze.

With Boris occupied, I lunged for his phone, which he had thrown on the floor to get rid of the throw pillow.

My fingers fumbled against the smooth, unyielding glass to reach his security app.

But years of catering to Boris's technological obsession had taught me a thing or two.

With a frantic swipe, the locks flew open, and the alarm system disarmed. Then, I called a three-digit number because I knew this would only get worse.

"What did you do, you meddling little—"

Boris screamed once he got a good look at Miles and lunged. They really got into it while I yelled into the phone.

Boris seemed stronger than my pizza delivery ally, and I feared for his life, but the flashing lights and the wail of sirens came just in time.

The officers came in with their guns drawn, forcing my husband and my ally to stop their violent grappling.

I was breathing too quickly and crying without noticing. It's finally over.

***

I stood dazed in my living room. Freedom washed over me in waves – relief so intense it was dizzying. My knees buckled, and I was vaguely aware of strong arms catching me, guiding me toward a police cruiser.

Miles had a cut on his cheek and his breathing was still ragged, but he held me protectively.

His eyes met mine, and it was like we had just fought a war together. "Are you okay?" he asked, grinning despite his painful facial wounds.

"I think so," I croaked. I took a shaky breath of fresh air, no longer tainted by the scent of fear and control. "I think I'm going to be okay."

The aftermath at the police station was a blur. The comforting presence of a female officer who took our statements helped me open up about my struggles and the abuse I experienced under Boris' tyrannical thumb.

I made sure to emphasize that Miles had been my savior. I'm not sure Boris would've let me live otherwise.

It was late when they released me from the police station. The world outside seemed foreign, vibrant, and alive. To my surprise, Miles was waiting by his delivery van.

"You know, I haven't had a real dinner in years," I confessed, a shaky laugh escaping my lips. Was I flirting already?

A smile tugged at Miles's lips. "How about we change that? My treat." He gestured towards a diner across the street, and I nodded.

***

I ordered a steak – a thick, juicy rebellion against my former existence of cucumbers and water.

As we ate and talked. Miles was funny and even more handsome now that I felt free and safe.

"Thank you," I breathed after finishing my food and wiping my mouth. "For everything."

He smiled, something warm and genuine blooming in his eyes. "You were the brave, Megan. You took the first step to freedom."

I'm not sure if I saw it that way, but it was nice to be complimented.

"Maybe," Miles said, his voice hesitant, "we could, uh, do this again sometime. When things settle down, of course."

I smiled. "I'd like that."

As I watched his easy smile in that diner booth, a strange thought hit me.

My forced diet had been the most terrible of afflictions.

But in a twisted way, it had brought me to this moment – a moment of liberation and a chance at a new beginning, and perhaps, even the possibility of something more.

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If you enjoyed this story, here's another one: I was so thrilled to reveal our pear-sized growing baby to my boyfriend, thinking he would be delighted with a surprise party and the ultrasound images. Instead, he threw me out of his house and the last person I imagined was right there for me.

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