Chapter 54

At the far end of the room, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a gentle smile stood beside a whiteboard, scribbling notes as she nodded. As my gaze swept over the group, several women noticed my presence and fell silent, their expressions shifting to surprise and confusion. They recognized me, of course.

One woman, perhaps no older than twenty, started to speak, but I raised a hand to stop her. "Please, don't get up," I said, offering a small smile as I stepped further into the room. "I'm here as a member of the group tonight, not as the Luna of Nightcrest."

Murmurs of understanding rippled through the circle as I took one of the few empty chairs. The woman at the whiteboard turned, offering a warm smile. "Welcome," she said, her voice gentle and soothing. "We were just beginning, so you're right on time. Why don't you introduce yourself?"

I swallowed hard, feeling like I was back in school, facing the entire class. "Hi, everyone," I began, forcing steadiness into my voice. "My name is Hannah, and I… well, I'm here because I struggle with an eating disorder."

The woman nodded, offering an encouraging smile. "Thank you for sharing that, Hannah," she said. "We're glad to have you."

As the meeting progressed, I relaxed, sinking into the rhythm of the group. Each woman shared her story, her struggles, her triumphs. I offered support and understanding, but mostly listened.

Finally, it was my turn. I cleared my throat, my hands twisting in my lap as I searched for the right words. "I used to love my body," I began. "I used to look in the mirror and feel only pride and appreciation. But then…" I trailed off, shaking my head. "Something happened, and everything changed."

I paused, drawing a deep breath as memories flickered—memories of my first month married to Noah, when it began. Of seeing my reflection and thinking, 'not good enough, not good enough, not good enough.'

"Now, I feel like a slave to my own mind," I continued. "Like my body is a prison, trapping me in a shell I barely recognize. And the worst part is, I know it's unhealthy. I know how I see and treat myself is damaging and destructive. Hell…"

My voice trailed off. For a moment, I couldn't describe how I had died and been reborn on my bathroom floor. Finally, I managed, "Sometimes, it… it feels like I was given a second chance. If that makes sense; like… I was teetering, and managed to pull myself back. But I still can't seem to stop, no matter how hard I try."

I fell silent, my chest constricting as I fought back tears. The room was still. I blinked, afraid of judgment, of hatred from my Luna's vulnerability.

But instead, I saw only quiet support.

Finally, the counselor spoke, her smile warm enough to melt the ice around my heart. "Second chances are what this group is all about," she said softly.