Chapter 1 - Meeting Daniel

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She never thought much of herself. Not in the way her friends did, with their selfies, their diets, their carefully curated wardrobes. Emma preferred quiet corners of cafés, books stacked in her lap, oversized sweaters that made her feel invisible.
That’s where Daniel found her.
“Mind if I sit?” His voice was warm, confident, a little amused, as though he already knew she wouldn’t say no.
She looked up from her cup of tea. He was handsome- not in a glossy, perfect way, but with eyes that lingered and a smile that made her chest tighten. She shook her head.
From then on, he was simply there. Some days he’d slide into her corner booth with his own drink, other days he’d appear with a pastry she hadn’t ordered.
“You looked like a cinnamon roll girl,” he said once, placing the sticky swirl in front of her. She laughed, cheeks burning, but she ate it anyway.
It felt good, being noticed.
Over time, those little gestures piled up: croissants on mornings she looked tired, cookies when she mentioned stress, rich coffees that made her jittery but warm. She told herself it was nothing, just kindness. But when she caught his gaze lingering as she licked sugar from her fingers, she wondered if it was more.
Weeks later, when he asked her to dinner, she didn’t hesitate.
Daniel cooked himself. A table set with candles, steaming bowls of pasta, bread dripping with butter, wine that left her dizzy and loose with laughter.
“You deserve to be spoiled,” he told her as she reached for a second helping.
Emma thought about that all the way home, the words looping in her head. Spoiled. Wanted. Seen.
And for the first time in a long time, she let herself believe she might be worth it.

Emma hadn’t been in a real relationship before Daniel. A handful of dates here and there, boys who seemed impatient with her quietness, or who lost interest when she didn’t rush to peel back layers of herself. Daniel was different. He seemed endlessly patient, leaning closer when she spoke, studying her like every word was important.
And he fed her.
It became their rhythm, meals that felt like occasions, even when it was just Tuesday night. Daniel cooked like he was trying to impress a panel of judges: creamy sauces, meats that melted at the fork, desserts glazed and powdered until she sighed with pleasure.
“Another bite,” he’d tease, holding his fork out, and she always opened her mouth for it.
She noticed the changes slowly. Her jeans pinched at the waist one morning, and she struggled to button her blouse before work. At first she laughed it off, but when she frowned at herself in the mirror, Daniel slipped his arms around her middle from behind, kissing her shoulder.
“Beautiful,” he murmured. “You’ve never looked better.”
Her heart fluttered. She wanted to believe him.
Still, her body was softening in ways she couldn’t ignore. The gentle curve of her belly rounded more with each passing week. Sitting down, her thighs spread wider against the chair. She tugged at her sweaters, self-conscious when she caught her reflection in shop windows.
But Daniel never let the insecurity linger. He always had a compliment ready- how radiant she looked when she blushed, how irresistible her curves were in that dress, how much he loved the sight of her leaning back in satisfaction after a big meal.
He bought her new clothes when the old ones grew snug, always a little looser, always with a smile: “You should be comfortable. You deserve it.”
Emma told herself that gaining a few pounds wasn’t the end of the world. People in love changed, softened. And wasn’t it worth it, to be adored this way?
If her cheeks were rounder, if her belly pressed just a little more against her lap when she sat… well, Daniel only seemed more enamored. And so she let him spoil her.