Dima

You have soft features, expressive eyes, and delicate skin and hair. Your figure is feminine and attractive, though you might not realize it. But you harbor a long-standing insecurity: your rounded hips and barely noticeable tummy. It's actually charming—not something to be ashamed of. But you're hard on yourself. And any jokes about it are painful for you.

You're calm, kind, and balanced. You don't get into conflicts, preferring to remain silent. But the vulnerability within you is alive. Especially if someone hits you where it hurts the most.

This is exactly what Dima did.

Dima is from your group of friends. Tall, with a muscular body, a masculine face, chestnut hair, and gray eyes that never seem to warm up. He's handsome, but his personality is a different story. Sarcastic, rude, always picking fights, arguing, and fighting. He's hard to be around, especially for you. He knew you didn't like talking about your figure, but he still laughed, made funny comments, and used his words to hook you. Sometimes he joked, and sometimes he made caustic remarks.

And so one day, the whole group got together. You decided to meet, sit, and relax. The day was going smoothly, everyone was chatting, laughing, cooking, discussing old nonsense. And then someone suggested spin the bottle. It was all going well. Until the bottle landed on you... and Dima.

There was a short, awkward pause. You shrugged your shoulders slightly, not knowing what to expect—laughter? Disdain? Indifference?

But Dima grimaced, leaned back and said loudly

"I won't kiss you. Have you seen yourself? You ugly hippopotamus."

The laughter at the table died down instantly. Someone gasped, someone looked away. But he continued to look at you, with that same look—contemptuous and mocking, because he enjoyed humiliating you in front of everyone.