The Fall of a Queen

Chapter 1 - The Weight of Arrogance

The kitchen was a war zone, littered with crumbs, smears of frosting, and crumpled snack wrappers. The air reeked of rancid butter and stale sugar, a cloying haze that clung to the skin like a second layer. At the heart of the mess, Serena presided like a queen, slouched in a chair that groaned under her obscene bulk. She was *grotesquely fat*, a mountain of flabby flesh spilling over the edges of the seat, her body a mockery of the grace that once defined her. Her once-snug T-shirt now stretched like a campsite tarp over her sagging belly, sweat stains blooming across the fabric. On the table sat a tray of half-eaten donuts, a ravaged bag of chips, and an open can of soda, now lukewarm. Serena shoved another chunk of donut into her mouth, frosting dripping down her chin, her greasy fingers leaving smudges on everything she touched. “Just one bite,” she mumbled, her voice thick, as if anyone would believe her. She was a *gluttonous pig*, and she knew it, even if she clung to denial with a stubbornness that bordered on absurd.

Serena wasn’t just fat. She was a wreck. Her skin, once smooth and taut, was now a mass of loose folds, stretch marks crisscrossing her body like scars from a losing battle against her own appetite. Ever since Mattia had slipped a ring on her finger,or tried to, since no standard size fit her anymore,Serena had let herself go completely. “He loves me anyway,” she’d repeat like a mantra, gorging on junk food, convinced her former cover-girl charm could still save her. But the truth was brutal: she wasn’t the head-turner anymore. She was a *damn fat mess*.

She heaved herself up, her breath short, her thighs rubbing noisily together, the floor creaking under her steps. She lumbered toward the fridge, bumping the table with her hip and knocking over an empty soda can. “Crap,” she hissed, but didn’t bend to pick it up. Bending was a feat, a humiliation she avoided at all costs. Not that she realized how pathetic she’d become: in her mind, Serena was still the queen, the one who ruled with a smile and a glance. Too bad the world didn’t see her that way anymore. People on the street stared,not with admiration, but with a mix of disgust and morbid curiosity, like she was a sideshow freak. And her? What did they know?

The front door opened, and Mattia walked in, his face weary, shoulders slumped. Serena didn’t even notice, too busy rummaging in the fridge for something to devour. “Hey, babe,” she said without turning, her voice still laced with the haughty confidence that once opened every door. “How was your day? Bet you were the hottest guy in the office.” The words rang hollow, a faint echo of a flirtation that no longer made sense. Mattia didn’t answer right away. His eyes settled on her, on the way her body took up space, on the chaos she’d left in the kitchen, on the sheen of frosting on her chin. There was a time he would’ve smiled, charmed by her boldness. Now, that smile was dead, replaced by a shadow of resignation. Mattia was either a saint or a masochist for not leaving her yet. But the line was thin, and he was teetering on the edge.

“Serena,” he said finally, his voice flat. “We need to talk.”

She turned, a slice of cold pizza in hand, grease dripping between her fingers. “Talk? About what?” Her tone was dismissive, as if he were just another hurdle to bulldoze with her supposed superiority. “If it’s about tonight, I’ve already decided. We’re going out. That new place downtown, the one with the neon lights. It’ll be fun.” She licked her fingers in a gesture meant to be seductive but came off as grotesque, a parody of the sensuality she once wielded.

Mattia pressed his lips together, his face tight. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “It’s… complicated, Serena. You’re not…” He stopped, unable to finish. *You’re not the same anymore.* He didn’t say it, but she felt it. And instead of listening, instead of really seeing herself, Serena bristled, her ego swelling as much as her body.

“Complicated? What’s complicated?” she snapped, slamming the pizza down with a dramatic flourish that made the table shake. “You think I can’t handle a night out? That I’m not up to it? I’m *Serena*, Mattia. People adore me.” Her voice was a mix of arrogance and desperation, but she didn’t notice. She was too dense, too lost in her delusions of grandeur, to see the truth: she wasn’t adored anymore. She was barely tolerated.

Mattia ran a hand over his face, exasperated. “That’s not it, Serena. It’s just… look at yourself.” The words slipped out, harsh, cutting. For a moment, the silence was deafening. Serena stared at him, eyes narrowed, her chin trembling,not with hurt, but with rage. How dare he? How dare he even imply it?

“Look at myself?” she hissed, stepping toward him, her body wobbling clumsily, the floor protesting. “What’s there to look at, huh? I’m still me, Mattia. Always have been. You’re the one with the problem.” But as she said it, a part of her, buried under layers of fat and denial, knew it wasn’t true. She knew her flabby, unwieldy body was bordering on ridiculous. She knew the way people looked at her,with pity, with scorn,wasn’t a mistake. But admit it? Never. Serena didn’t bend. She didn’t surrender. Even if she tripped over furniture, even if her breath hitched after a few steps, even if her wardrobe was reduced to a few stretchy rags that barely contained her mass.

---

Later, in front of the mirror, Serena studied herself with a mix of defiance and blind stubbornness. She’d chosen a dress,a garish lycra nightmare that promised to “slim” but instead highlighted every fold, every roll of fat. Her belly hung like a sack, her hips spilled over the fabric’s edges, her flabby arms jiggled as she applied scarlet lipstick. “Not so bad,” she told herself, but it was a lie. It was awful. She was walking obesity, a woman clinging to an image of herself that no longer existed, not even close.

She turned sideways, ignoring how her profile took up half the mirror. “I’m still me,” she whispered, as if to convince herself. But the mirror didn’t lie. It showed a woman who’d lost all control, who’d indulged in a binge of food and laziness, who’d turned her body into an unmanageable prison of flesh. And Mattia, poor Mattia, was still there, watching her with eyes full of love and desperation, on the verge of breaking.

“We’re going out,” Serena declared, turning to him with a smile that brooked no argument. “And don’t you dare keep me waiting.” But as she headed for the door, her hip caught the frame, making her stumble. She cursed under her breath, her face red with anger and shame, but straightened up like nothing happened. Mattia followed in silence, his gaze heavy as a verdict.

Serena didn’t see it, didn’t feel it. She kept marching, convinced she was still the queen. But the world knew the truth. And soon, very soon, she’d have to face it too.