kiss me captain: The ice captain chubby fake girlfriend

Chapter 1

Emma kept her hands folded tightly in her lap, her fingers digging into the fabric of her skirt so she wouldn't nervously fidget with her silverware.

Across the small candle-lit table sat David, a man her aunt had insisted was a real gentleman. Over text, he had been charming. He talked to her every day, asked about her favorite books, and seemed genuinely eager.

But that was before he saw her. The moment Emma had stood up from the waiting bench to greet him, his expression changed. It was a subtle but it was there, a half-second delay Before he gave a smile that Emma could clearly see was forced.

Emma had seen that exact look too many times to count. The right person will see your heart first, Emmy,her grandmother used to tell her, pressing a warm cookie into her small hand. But standing in this upscale bistro, Emma knew the harsh truth: most people never looked past the surface to find a heart at all.

"So," Emma said, "Your aunt mentioned you just started a new project at the architecture firm? That sounds incredibly demanding."

David blinked, his eyes shifted from his phone screen back to her face. "Yeah. It's fine. Just a lot of hours."

"I can imagine. Designing spaces from scratch must take so much patience." Emma offered a warm smile, instinctively trying to smooth things over because she couldn't stand tension. "Do you mostly work on residential or—"

"Excuse me for a minute," David cut in sliding his phone into his pocket as he pushed back his chair. He forced another smile. "I'm just going to use the restroom."

"Oh, of course. It's okay," Emma said automatically, apologizing out of pure habit.

She watched him walk down the narrow hallway toward the back of the restaurant. Then, she took a slow breath, letting her shoulders drop. Her chest ached with a familiar, dull throb. Just hold it together. Eat dinner, be polite, and go home.

Five minutes passed. Emma sipped her water.

Ten minutes.

Twenty minutes. The restaurant was beginning to thin out, the staff wiping down nearby tables. Emma’s eyes remained fixed on the restroom hallway.

Finally, she stood up, intending to check the hallway, but paused near the service station when she heard David's voice coming from the host stand around the corner. He was talking to the bartender.

"Yeah, just give me my tab," David was saying, his voice entirely devoid of the boredom he’d shown her. "She looked completely different from her pictures. My aunt conveniently forgot to mention her size. "I'm not wasting my evening pretending this is going anywhere.” She deserves someone who's into… that.

Emma froze, the words hitting her like a slap to the face even though she had heard it many times before. A sudden, burning heat radiated across her cheeks. She shrank back against the wall, her throat tight. Instead of confronting him, instead of demanding the apology she deserved, she did what she always did: she hid. She waited in the shadows of the hallway until she heard the front door chime, signaling David had left.

When she walked back to the table, the waiter approached with a painful mix of awkwardness and pity. "Ma'am? Your guest already settled his own bill at the bar..."

"It's okay," Emma whispered quickly, cutting him off so he wouldn't have to finish the humiliating sentence. With every ounce of dignity she possessed, she pulled a twenty-dollar bill from her small purse, placed it on the table to cover her untouched water, and offered a polite smile. "Thank you."

The drive home passed in silence, filled with nothing but painful thoughts and swallowed tears. As she turned on the car radio to drown out her thoughts, the sports announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers: "...and Ryan Carter has once again led the Wolves to a stunning victory tonight."

Emma switched it off. At least someone in the city was having a successful night. She pulled into her parents' driveway and pushed open the front door, hoping that they won't be awake to mock her at another failed date.

Instead, the house was exploding.

The grand living room was ablaze with music blasting from the surround-sound speakers. The sound of a champagne cork hitting the ceiling echoed down the hall, followed by a chorus of loud, ecstatic cheers from her aunts, uncles, and cousins.

Confused, Emma stepped into the foyer.

There, standing by the grand fireplace, was Allison. She was radiant, her blonde hair perfectly styled, a glass of Dom Pérignon held high. But what caught the light, what drew every eye in the room, was the massive diamond ring sparkling on her left hand.

"Oh, look who finally decided to show up!" her mother cried out, noticing Emma standing frozen by the doorway. Before Emma could even take off her coat, her mother marched over, grabbed her arm, and pulled her into the center of the room. "Come congratulate your sister! She’s engaged!"

Emma forced the burning humiliation of her own night into a dark corner of her mind, stepping forward to hug her sister. "Congratulations, Allison. It’s beautiful."

Allison hugged her back, her embrace brief and perfectly calculated for onlookers But as she leaned in, her sweet smile didn't reach her eyes. "See?" Allison whispered, her voice a sharp, quiet knife against Emma’s ear. "I told you I'd marry rich."

Before Emma could process the venom, Allison pulled away, flashing her ring to another group of gushing cousins. Emma backed away slowly, melting into the background until she was completely invisible near the buffet table.

"At least one daughter is properly settled," her Aunt Sarah sighed, sipping her champagne.

"Oh, Emma still has plenty of time," a cousin laughed, nudging Sarah’s arm.

"Exactly," her Aunt Clara added, throwing a fleeting, pitying glance in Emma's direction. "She has such a sweet personality. The right man won't care about appearance."

Then came the quiet whisper from a cousin’s wife, "Maybe if she lost some weight, she'd stop getting stood up by blind dates."

A sudden, brief silence fell over the immediate circle. Emma closed her eyes, her breath catching in her throat. She waited. Five seconds. Ten seconds. Her father stood just a few feet away, his expression tight and conflicted. He looked at Emma, his lips parting as if he wanted to step in, but as her mother laughed at something Aunt Sarah said, his shoulders sank.

He turned his gaze away, choosing the path of least resistance. He stayed silent.

Inside, a rare spark of quiet anger flared up in Emma's chest. Why am I always the one expected to be understanding? she thought bitterly. Why do I have to swallow everything just to keep their peace?

Silently, Emma slipped away from the noise and headed into the kitchen.

Ingredients didn't judge her. Recipes didn't abandon her. But maybe that was why she got so big.

But she knew one day she wouldn't just be the fat or unimportant sister who couldn't keep a man. One day, she would have her own bakery. People would know her for the warmth she created, the cakes she baked, and the smile she put on other people's faces.

Emma had no idea her own life was about to change forever.