Her body didn’t need her praise. It didn’t need perfection. But it did need something small: acknowledgment.

"Why won’t you cooperate?"

"You’ve been working for me this whole time," she said softly. "And I’ve been fighting you."

And for the first time, she listened.

Her body didn’t answer in words. It answered in memory.

Not really. She’d yelled at it in front of mirrors. Bargained with it before parties. Ignored its hunger, its fatigue, its quiet signals.