She was practically starving!
"I'm managing my figure," Romy stated firmly.
Starla's eye twitched. She instinctively glanced at Romy's waist. "You're not even remotely chubby."
"Yes, I am. Look, when I sit down, there's a little roll."
Starla's lips pressed into a thin line. She immediately looked down at her own stomach. Did she have a little extra padding, too?
"Everyone has a roll when they sit down!" Starla argued. "Shouldn't you judge a figure by how it looks standing up? Why are we grading on the seated curve?"
"It only counts if it's perfectly flat when you sit. Just bear with it for a few days."
"I'm not the one dieting!" Starla protested. Why did she have to suffer?
"If I watch you eat meat, I'll break!"
Starla rolled her eyes. So one person's diet meant collective punishment. This was unsustainable. Eating these meals felt like eating air; she was constantly hungry and craving real food.
"I made you some scrambled eggs!" Romy offered defensively. That counted as protein, right?
"I'm cooking for myself tonight," Starla declared.
Romy sighed.
Starla's phone buzzed. It was another text from Yardley: *From now on, I won't force you to do anything you don't want to.*
Not forcing her? What was this? He had tried the stick, and now he was offering the carrot?
Starla glanced at Romy. "Keep a close eye on Yardley's movements."


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