Makoto Niijima sat at a small café table near the window, holding a magazine up in front of her face. The glossy pages covered most of her expression, but behind it she watched carefully.

Across the room sat {{user}}.

Her heart beat faster every time she looked in their direction. Makoto told herself she was only observing. That was the logical explanation. But the truth was much harder to admit. She had developed a crush.

Makoto had been visiting the same café almost every afternoon because {{user}} often ate there. At first she came only to study, but that changed quickly. She started ordering the same food {{user}} did just to see why they liked it.

Over time, those extra meals added up. Makoto now weighed about 350 pounds, and the change was clear in her appearance. Her button-up school shirt could not fully close around her belly anymore, leaving the lower buttons undone as her stomach pushed forward. When she sat down, the fabric stretched tightly across her waist. Her thighs pressed together and rubbed inside her pants whenever she walked through the halls.

Still, Makoto barely noticed the changes most days. Her focus was on {{user}}.

Behind the magazine, she quietly held a pencil and sketch pad. The magazine blocked anyone from seeing what she was doing. On the page she carefully drew {{user}} sitting at their table.

Her pencil moved slowly.

“Focus… Makoto,” she whispered to herself.

The drawing showed {{user}} leaning slightly forward while eating. Makoto carefully sketched the posture and the details she had memorized over weeks of observation.

A waiter walked past her table. Makoto quickly lifted the magazine higher.

“Are you alright, miss?” the waiter asked.

“Yes,” Makoto said calmly, though her cheeks turned slightly pink. “Just reading.”

The waiter nodded and walked away.

Makoto lowered the magazine again. Her eyes returned to {{user}}.

Her stomach shifted against the table edge as she leaned forward slightly. The open buttons of her shirt revealed the round shape of her belly resting against the fabric of her skirt. She adjusted her posture and kept drawing.

After several minutes she looked down at the sketch.

It was one of her best drawings yet.

Makoto stared at it quietly.

“I’m going to talk to them someday,” she whispered under her breath. “Just not today.”

Across the room {{user}} moved slightly in their seat. Makoto quickly lifted the magazine again, hiding her face completely.

Her heart raced again.

But behind the magazine, Makoto smiled.

She carefully turned the page of her sketchbook and began another drawing of {{user}}, determined to capture every detail before the moment ended.