'I trusted my boyfriend entirely. Then I saw his group chat messages.'

When I met *Joel two years ago, there was an instant spark. It was the kind of instant attraction that makes your heart race and your palms sweat, but we both pretended we didn't notice because, what if it was too good to be true?

We were careful, holding back just enough to make sure what we felt was real. Neither of us wanted to rush into something we weren't sure about. But it didn't take long for the truth to become glaringly obvious: we were right for each other.

Two years later, our little world was everything I'd ever wanted. Lazy Sunday mornings in bed, road trips with carefully curated playlists that felt like soundtracks to our story, and an easy comfort that felt oh-so natural.

Joel wasn't just my boyfriend; he was my safe place. With him, I could be completely me -the messy, emotional, slightly chaotic version of myself - and he never flinched.

I thought we were bulletproof.

Then, last Sunday, I did something I swore I'd never do.

It started so innocently. Joel's iPad was on the coffee table, and he'd gone out to grab ice cream because Sundays in our house are sacred - reserved for Netflix, snacks, and unapologetic lounging. I was scrolling through Netflix options, the iPad balanced on my lap, when a notification popped up in the corner of the screen.

A message. From one of his mates. I ignored it at first. I'm not that person. I'm not the snoopy girlfriend. I trust Joel; I've always trusted him.

But then another message came through. And another.

I told myself I wasn't really invading his privacy. It wasn't like I was searching for something. But the little devil on my shoulder whispered, Go on. Have a quick look. Everyone gets curious.

The angel on the other side? Silent. Useless.

So, I did it. I tapped the notification, and suddenly, I was inside their group chat.

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At first, it was just harmless banter - the kind of stuff boys say to each other when they think no one's looking. Memes, inside jokes, and plenty of footy talk. Nothing to raise a red flag. I even laughed at a couple of their exchanges.

And then, I saw it.

A message from one of his mates popped up, along with a meme of a very curvy woman in a bikini. It wasn't malicious, just one of those silly things people share. But the caption was what hit me like a punch to the gut.

"Here's one Joel will like!"

And Joel's reply?

"Yeah, you know I like 'em meaty!"

Meaty.

The word stuck in my throat, bitter and acidic. My chest tightened, and for a second, I couldn't breathe.

Meaty.

I don't know how long I sat there, staring at the screen, willing the words to mean something else - anything else.

Here's the thing: I've never had a problem with my body. I'm a confident and curvy in all the ways that feel good to me. Joel has never once mentioned my weight or my size in the two years we've been together. Not once. I'd always believed he loved me exactly as I was.

So why did this message feel like a betrayal?

When Joel came back, smiling, holding up a stuffed Woolies bag, I couldn't look at him.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

I nodded, "Yeah, fine."

But I was far from fine.

I waited until later that night to bring it up.

"Joel," I said, sitting cross-legged on the bed, my voice shaking. "I need to ask you something."

His brow furrowed. "What's wrong?"

"I saw your group chat."

I watched as his face went from confusion to realisation, then to something else I couldn't quite place - maybe guilt.

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"You what?"

"I wasn't snooping," I said quickly. "It was just there, and I …" I stopped. "It doesn't matter. I saw it, Joel. The meme. The comment."

He sighed, "Sarah, it's not what you think."

"Then what is it?" I snapped, my voice breaking. "Because what I saw was you laughing at me behind my back."

"Babe, no. That's not …" He paused, then tried again. "I've always been into bigger girls. You know that."

Bigger girls.

I stared at him, my heart aching in a way I couldn't explain. "Joel, you've never said anything like that to me before."

"Because it doesn't matter!" he said, looking genuinely upset. "It's just a joke. It's stupid guy talk."

But it didn't feel stupid. It felt wrong.

The thoughts started spiralling almost immediately.

Does he have a kink? Is that why he's with me?

The idea made my stomach churn. What if I wasn't Joel's soulmate, his partner, his equal? What if I was just a checkbox for him? A preference he'd casually mentioned to his mates?

Was I just his "big girl" girlfriend? I hated myself for even thinking it. I hated myself for caring. But once the seed was planted, I couldn't stop it from growing.

On one hand, what he said wasn't outright cruel. It wasn't like he was making fun of me or saying I wasn't attractive. In fact, it was the opposite. He liked "big girls." He liked me. But the way he said it - the casual, unthinking way - cut deeper than I expected.

It made me feel like my body, my meatiness, was the only thing that mattered to him.

The confidence I'd spent years building up, the security I'd always felt in myself, vanished instantly.

I wish I could say I stormed out dramatically, but the truth is, I just sat there, frozen.

I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted.

Here's the worst part: I know what I did was wrong.

I shouldn't have looked at his messages. I invaded his privacy, broke a trust I promised I'd never break. And now I'm stuck with the consequences of that choice, wondering if my curiosity has ruined the one relationship I thought was bulletproof.

And yet, I can't decide what's worse: the fact that he said it or the fact that I looked.

Maybe it's both. Maybe it's neither. All I know is that I feel sick.

For the first time in two years, I find myself second-guessing every part of our relationship. It all feels fragile now, like it could shatter at any moment.

And that's the part that hurts the most.

Because before this, I'd never questioned Joel's love for me. Not once.

But now? Now, I can't stop wondering if I'd ever been more to him than a preference.

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