Oh My Belle

Andrea's POV I wasn't always this fat. I preferred to regard myself as chubby or moderate thick, but whenever I climbed on the weight scale, it said otherwise. I went through the route of exercise and weight loss drugs however the mere sight of fried chicken with cream and potato toppings was my undoing. Back in high school I was the belle of Bellingham City. My body was that of a model, slender, proportional in all the right places. I would receive flowers and cakes packed in my locker from guys in different grades all wanting to be my boyfriend. Now all I received were stares of mockery, jabs and sometimes side comments from my co-workers both men and women alike. I had already ordered before Zayn arrived. Zayn Timothy Jacobs was my boyfriend. He knew the old me, without the chubby cheeks, bloated tummy and fat limbs and still accepted the upgraded version of me. I didn't mind stuffing my face daily, so far, he remained by my side cheering me on. “Babe, I already ordered for the both of us, bon appétit.” I smacked my lips, shoving a big fork full of grilled pork. Zayn didn't touch his meal, he simply stared at me. “Babe, you don't like what I ordered? What do you want to eat? Today is our ten-year anniversary, bills on me.” I cheered excitedly, checking through the menu. Actually, why I was filled with excitement was because I expected a proposal. Zayn had been acting suspicious lately, it could only mean he was ready to pop the question. Zayn tugged on his hair, inhaling and exhaling loudly. I tried to reach out to him, but he pulled away, treating me like I was filth. “Don't you ever get tired of stuffing your face?” He scowled, throwing me off guard with his out-of-the-blue question. I hooked my mouth wide open, trying to understand why he was suddenly irritated by my voluptuous appetite. “Andrea, can we please break up, set me free.” “Zayn, I… I'm sorry if I did something wrong. Tell me what I did, let me make amends.” I couldn't leave Zayn, he was all I had. The life of a fattie limited my options, most men preferred their women slim and bony. But Zayn loved me the way I was. I didn't want someone who would force me to shed weight by feeding me salad and a small portion of pork belly. “Can't you see what you've done to yourself. The woman I fell in love with is gone. I can't introduce you to my friends because they will all laugh at me, s*x with you is a chore, I don't even know the difference between your butt and your stomach.” He complained, his face turning red with frustration. “I thought you prefer me looking this way. What changed?” Zayn averted his eyes away from me, proving my suspicions. “Are you seeing someone else?” My eyes burnt with unshed tears, my breath caught in my throat awaiting the answer to the much dreaded question. “Answer the question Zayn. Tell me I'm wrong and this is a hitch in our relationship that we can overcome together.” He chuckled lightly, signaling the waiter to his direction. “Order as much as your fat tummy can stomach. I hope we don't cross paths and if we ever do, please do not approach me. I will die on the spot if you do.” He groaned aloud, making me flush with embarrassment at the waiter who was probably going to have a good laugh after this. I persisted, aware this was his way of avoiding my question. “Who is she? Does she work at the office?” Zayn combusted in a fit of rage, his voice a deep growl. “You want to know the truth! Yes. I'm seeing someone else, and she suits my taste perfectly. If you aren't ordering anything, we're done here.” Zayn without giving me a second glance stormed out of the restaurant. I chuckled softly, my heart breaking into bits at the realization that I had wasted ten years of my life for someone who was with me through thin, but when it got to being thick bolted. I unscrewed the bottle of red wine, which I ordered to commemorate the evening, sipping directly from it, not caring if it was bad etiquette. The rain patters staining the window plane, the sad music playing in the background mirrored my mood. I emptied the last drop of wine, staring at the empty chair where Zayn should be seated, smiling at me lovingly after asking me to be his wife. Sadly, none of that happened tonight. My life was pitiful, always have been, always will be. I wobbled on my feet, drunk, embracing the rain that slapped on my skin. My legs caved in causing me to slip and fall. I landed on my butt. Passerbys looked down on me, they had the same judgmental looks on their faces. “She's fat.” “Oh she's so ugly.” The voices in my head gnawed at me, making me recoil inwardly. I rested my head on the streetlight stand beside the road, and passed out. The morning dew and the shrill sound of the nearby siren woke me up. My body ached, as I took in my environment and where I was. If getting dumped wasn't already bad enough, this was worse. I checked for my phone and valuables and as expected, they were all gone. This was punishment for getting drunk and passing out in an open street in the busiest part of Bellingham City. A car honked at me. I pretended not to hear it, dusting myself up, lucky that the key to my house was not nabbed as well. “Fifteen hours of sleep after a heavy dinner is not a great way to start your day.” A deep baritone with a hint of Italian slur addressed me from behind. I turned sharply to see who it was that body shamed me at the wake of a new day and nearly lost my balance. The sexy six-foot god that obstructed my eyesight wasn't your usual Bellingham City boy. He looked like a picture cut out of a magazine, his chiseled jaw and thin lips were seductively too good and senile to exist. I coughed awkwardly, “And you are?…” He smiled at me, showing off his well arranged dentition. “Antonio, Antonio Barone.”