Chapter 0064
Hannah
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The next morning, I woke up feeling more nauseous than I could ever remember. My stomach roiled and churned, protesting even the mere idea of breakfast. I barely had time to throw myself out of bed and stagger to the bathroom before violently emptying the contents of my belly into the toilet.
Wave after wave of intense nausea rippled through my body, doubling me over the porcelain bowl as I heaved and retched. Tears pricked at the backs of my eyes, my throat burning from the harsh, acidic sting of bile.
When it finally seemed to pass, I collapsed in a trembling heap on the cool tile floor, my head spinning.
Goddess, I felt so weak-weaker than I had in months. In fact, the last time I remembered feeling like this was… well, when I had died.
What y
was even worse, though, was that when I finally mustered the strength to push myself upright and glance at my reflection in the mirror above the sink, I looked thinner than ever. All the careful progress! had painstakingly made in eating more and gaining weight lately seemed to be rapidly dwindling right in front of my eyes.
Better, that little voice said in the back of my mind. Thinner now Better…
I frowned, lifting my shirt to get a better look at my emaciated stomach. For a moment, just a moment, I wondered…
Would it really be so bad if I lost a little more weight?
A tiny bit of warmth in my belly, however, immediately brushed aside those thoughts. “No,” I said out loud.
I had to remind myself that I was growing a new life inside me-my child. My child who had died alongside me in my past life, who had been given a second chance along with me.
Of course there would be unpleasant side effects, unavoidable changes to my body. This was just one of them. And I couldn’t let the morning sickness urge me into more bulimic episodes.
” I ”
Suddenly, the sound of a gasp coming from the open bathroom door caused me to whirl around. “Luna Hannah?” My handmaid stood in the doorway, her eyes wide, holding a tray of tea and toast. “Are you alright?”
My stomach twisted with a fresh wave of nausea-only this time, it was born of dread-rather than morning sickness. I couldn’t exactly tell anyone the truth, not yet. No one knew about the pregnancy, and I planned to keep it that way until the divorce was finalized.
But I also couldn’t very well lie about being ill, could I? No, she had seen too much; I needed to think. Quickly
“I… I’m fine,” I finally managed to reply, hating how weak and unconvincing my voice sounded. “I just, um… had a bit of a relapse, that’s all. Made myself sick again.”
Dead silence answered me for several long moments before my handmaid scurried over to the counter and set my breakfast down, her face tight with worry. “Oh, Luna…”
She hurried over and peered at my face, touching my wrist to check my pulse. “But I thought you’ve been
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Chapter 0064
doing so well lately,” she said as she checked me over. “Why would you do this to yourself?”
My eyes burned with a sudden prickle of tears, equal parts guilt and frustration. I hadn’t asked for any of this-the eating disorder, the baby, the… well, everything. But that was a reality I would have to deal with on my own for now.
“I’m sorry,” I rasped out, forcing a thin smile. “Silly of me, I know. And counterintuitive. But I’ll be okay, I promise. We just… need to get me cleaned up and ready for-”
Suddenly, a knock on the bedroom door cut me off.
My handmaid rose to her feet without hesitation and scurried over to the door. “I’ll get that. You just rest here for another few minutes, alright?”
I could only nod weakly as she made her way out of the bathroom. A few seconds later, Noah’s voice floated through the room, his tone impatient as ever.
“Is she ready? We’re going to be late.”
Before my handmaid could answer, I swept out of the bathroom and into Noah’s view. When his eyes caught me and saw that I was still in my pajamas with my hair down, they narrowed a fraction.
“What the hell, Hannah? We’re supposed to leave in fifteen minutes.”
I sighed. “I’ll be quick. I was just…” I paused, biting my lip. Obviously I couldn’t tell him-and if I lied and said it was a relapse, he’d be just as angry. “I overslept.”
again
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