Chapter 0031

Hannah 25 BONUS

That night, after the awkward tension at dinner, I found myself unable to finish my plate. The rest of the family banquet passed without incident, Noah keeping his distance after I’d seen him watching me from the hallway. I pretended to eat, falling back into my old habits: pushing my food around, cutting it into small pieces, keeping myself and those around me talking so no one would notice.

But around midnight, the hunger pangs started. That, and the nausea. I was still extremely early in the pregnancy, maybe even too early for morning sickness. But with so little food in my belly, it felt like a storm was brewing in my gut. I knew I needed to eat, even just a few bites.

Once Noah was out of the house and I was certain everyone was asleep, I quietly went down to the kitchen in my nightgown. My bare feet made no sound on the marble floors. Cautiously, like a scared animal searching for scraps, I gathered a small plate of food.

A few minutes later, I was back in my bedroom with a plate of cheese, bread, and fruit. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And I wanted to start getting better. I wanted to nourish myself and the life growing inside me. I thought that maybe trying to eat alone, in the privacy of my room, could be good practice.

I settled onto the edge of my bed, the plate balanced carefully on my lap. One slice of fresh bread, a few pieces of sharp cheese, and two strawberries—simple foods, but my stomach still clenched anxiously at the sight of them. Steeling myself, I picked up a piece of bread. Bread was always one of the most difficult things for me, thanks to the carbs. I stared at it for a long moment, turning it over in my hands as I tried to psyche myself up to take a bite. Finally, I closed my eyes and brought it to my lips, tearing off a small piece with my teeth.

The flood of flavors exploded across my tongue—the yeasty warmth of the bread, the slight tang from whatever Zoe had brushed on top before baking. Despite my initial trepidation, it was… delicious. Suddenly ravenous, as though the tiniest taste of food had sent my body into survival mode, I didn’t hesitate before taking another hungry bite, and another. With my eyes still closed, I chewed slowly, savoring each mouthful. A warmth began to unfurl in my belly, like the little life inside of me—the clump of cells that had barely begun to form into a coherent ball, but was still my baby—was singing with relief at finally being given sustenance. Goddess, I couldn’t remember the last time I had tasted something so divine. Not even a sweet, juicy peach slice had felt like this.

I was just about to take my last bite when a quiet creak made my eyes shoot open. There, standing frozen in the doorway, was Noah. Our gazes locked, and in my shock, the plate slipped from my lap and clattered to the floor.

We both stood there for a long moment, unmoving. He wasn’t supposed to be here; he had left earlier, and I thought it would be safe… and besides, why was he in my room? It wasn’t our intimacy night.

I could feel the flush of shame heating my cheeks as I realized what he must think—seeing me shoveling food in like an uncouth pig, crumbs no doubt scattered across my face and nightgown. I opened my mouth, an excuse ready on my lips, but no words came out other than, “What are you doing here?”

Noah didn’t answer my question. To my surprise, instead of the insult or dismissive comment I expected, Noah simply crossed the room and bent down to retrieve the fallen plate. He picked up the few scraps that had touched the floor and brushed a few stray crumbs from the sheets before taking a step back.

“If you were still hungry, why didn’t you eat more at dinner?” he asked. Much to my surprise, his tone held no judgment, only curiosity—which was rare for him.

I swallowed hard, the remaining bite of bread feeling like a lump in my throat. Rather than answering, I deflected once again. “Why are you here so late? Don’t you usually leave the house in the evenings so you can sleep in your office or something?”

Noah’s brow creased and his mouth twitched slightly at my question, but once again, he didn’t respond. We regarded each other in silence, the distance between us seeming to stretch endlessly.

Then, just when I thought he might turn and leave without another word, he spoke again. “I had to come back for something.”

“Come back for something.” I felt my chest clench at those words. I supposed, for the briefest of moments, seeing him standing in my doorway almost made me wonder if he had come back to see me. But of course, he hadn’t. We hated each other, didn’t we?

With that, he turned and walked back toward the door without another word. I sat watching him, the taste of the food still lingering on my tongue.

“You don’t need to be ashamed, you know,” he suddenly said.

I blinked at the back of his head, utterly surprised by his words. He paused, his hand on the doorknob, and cleared his throat. What he said next left my head reeling.

“I’m… proud of you for eating. For trying.”

Then, the door clicked shut softly behind him as he left the room, leaving me alone with just the sound of my own ragged breathing. I stared down at the plate in my hands, his parting words ringing in my ears.

Proud of me? Noah had been nothing but cold and dismissive toward me for so long. This rare show of warmth and kindness was… surprising, to say the least.

Rising, I crossed to the mirror and lifted my nightdress, staring at my hollow cheeks and bony frame. But there, just beneath my ribcage, was the slightest swell of my belly from the food I had just consumed. My fingers traced over the gentle curve as hot tears pricked at the backs of my eyes.

Part of me still wanted nothing more than to purge, to rid myself of the calories and lose what little weight I had managed to put on. And for a moment, I almost did; my eyes darted over to the bathroom, where I knew that there was still half a bottle of diet pills sitting in the medicine cabinet. But then the memory of that horrible day resurfaced—of my baby, lifeless on the floor in a pool of blood and vomit from my illness. The last thing I had seen before I had died.

No. I couldn’t go through that again. Not after finally being given this second chance at life, at motherhood. No matter how difficult the road ahead would be, I knew I was doing the right thing. For my child’s sake… and my own.

With silent sobs wracking my body, I rushed to the bathroom, flung open the medicine cabinet, and flushed the diet pills down the toilet.