Chapter 74
And perhaps that would be the thing that kept me from relapsing. “You’re absolutely right,” I said with a firm nod. “If my attendance and advocacy for seeking proper treatment can help remove the stigma, even just a little… then I would consider that immensely rewarding.”
A chorus of sincere agreement arose as everyone returned to their meals, finally leaving me feeling as though I could breathe easily again. I mused that I might actually attempt to eat something now, carefully spearing a few pieces of chicken onto my fork.
Just as I lifted the first bite to my mouth, however, a smooth, lilting voice cut through the gentle din of conversation. “That’s very commendable, Hannah.”
My fork froze inches from my lips as my gaze snapped to the source—Zoe, regarding me from down the table with an inscrutable expression. Something about her tone, the underlying implication, caused the back of my neck to prickle with unease. Her words were kind, but something felt wrong. I wasn’t imagining the brief flash of resentment that flickered across her face before she composed herself, was I?
“Thank you, Zoe,” I managed.
As I ate my chicken, I caught Noah watching me from the corner of my eye. Something told me our brief moment of unity was over.
The rest of the evening blurred, my lack of participation in the conversation growing more pronounced as anxiety tightened its grip. By the time Noah and I said goodbye and headed for the car, I felt emotionally and physically drained as I hadn’t felt in quite some time.
We rode in tense silence for several minutes, the only sound the tires on the road and the driver’s occasional sniffle. Eventually, Noah’s deep voice cut through the quiet, nearly making me jump. “Are you going to follow through on what you said in there?” he asked, eyes fixed on the window. “About continuing to attend those support group meetings?”
I frowned faintly, picking at a loose thread on my dress. “Of course I am. I need to… I need that extra layer of accountability right now.”
Noah nodded almost imperceptibly. “I see.” He paused. His next words chilled me. “Then I assume you haven’t been inducing vomiting again?”
My mouth went dry as I slowly turned to face him, searching his stony profile for any hint of emotion. How could he possibly—
“Don’t act so shocked,” he interjected flatly before I could speak. “I’m not blind, Hannah. You’ve clearly lost weight recently, and you hardly ate anything tonight despite your claims about getting better.” He shook his head. “I’d have to be an idiot not to connect the dots.”
“I’m surprised you’ve even noticed,” I retorted, unable to deny my recent vomiting spells, but also unable to tell him it was morning sickness, not bulimia. “You’ve never seemed to pay any attention to my appearance or my eating habits before.”
A tense silence fell over the car. I looked away, focusing my gaze out the window and blinking rapidly to fight back tears.
Just as I was certain he wouldn’t respond, his gruff voice softened. “You don’t need to be so defensive around me, Hannah.”