Chapter 1 - Part 1

"Ghubaara" was an Urdu word he'd learned a long time ago. It wasn't one he used very often--if ever, in all honesty--but he felt it was a better representation than its English equivalent, as it's pronunciation used the full mouth--from the back of the throat onward--instead of just the front.

"Ghubaara" was an Urdu word meaning "balloon," and it was the first thing he thought of when he saw her again.

It was early on a Wednesday afternoon. Rashid was meeting Jasmine for lunch. It'd been a little over a year since they broke up, and while he had no intention of entering a relationship with her ever again--nor her with him, seeing as she'd come out as ace-aro--he did think he should try to be friendly with her, at least. So there he was, sitting in a Mongolian restaurant, waiting for his ex.

"Hey!" said a voice from behind Rashid. He turned around and almost did a double-take when he saw Jasmine standing across the room. She made her way towards his table. Rashid stood up to greet her.

"It's so good to see you," she said, giving Rashid a hug. "How've you been?"

"... Good. I'm good. How about you?"

The two of them continued making small-talk for a bit, but Rashid was only barely paying attention. Much to his chagrin, he was distracted by something else.

Even if it IS normal, it's always awkward to find yourself still attracted to your ex. It really didn't help Rashid that Jasmine was wearing the one outfit that never failed to drive him mad whenever he saw her in it--a white tank top and jeans. Simple, but stunning for its ability to emphasize the curves of her figure. Rashid could barely keep her eyes off of her while they were dating, and he was having trouble doing so now, especially since there was more of her to fill it.

"Do you mind if we get something to eat? I'm starving," Jasmine asked.

"No, of course not. We came here for lunch, didn't we?"

Jasmine smiled. "Great." She got up from her chair and made her way to the buffet line.

Maybe it was just in Rashid's head, but it seemed like Jasmine had gained some weight in the intervening months since they'd last seen each other. Which made sense--Jasmine used to do weight training while they were dating, but stopped a few weeks before they broke up. Her arms would get flabbier and lose a lot of their tone. Conversely, while her jeans did seem a little snug around her thighs, maybe they were just a new pair and that was the style.

But then there was her belly, and there was that word again: "ghubaara."

Jasmine had never been one to have washboard abs, or even all that flat a tummy, really. But the fabric of her tank top seemed stretched a little more taut than Rashid remembered, and the thought of that alone was enough to drive him bonkers. He imagined her sitting at home, lazing around, snacking on chips and candy, indulging in some of her favorite chocolates and sweets. Her metabolism, eventually unable to keep up with the influx of additional unused carbs and fats, gradually causing her to grow just a bit bigger, rounder, softer, the fabric of her tank top expanding out with her belly like a--

"You gonna get something?" Jasmine interrupted Rashid's regretful reverie from across the restaurant.

He paused, taking a moment to steel himself.

She's your ex, he reminded himself. You don't even want to get back together with her. Don't do this to yourself, you idiot.

Mentally slapping himself for extra reassurance, Rashid got up from his chair. "Yeah, right behind you!"