Chapter 153

Hannah

“How did you know when you needed to start making a change?”

The room was quiet as the journalist, Emily, and I sat across from each other. Only the grandfather clock’s tick and the birds’ chirping outside broke the silence. A gentle breeze blew through a cracked window—early signs of spring, though it wasn’t yet March. On the table between us sat a tray of steaming tea and fresh cookies. I held my cup in my hands, watching the steam curl towards my face.

“Well…” I paused, chewing my cheek, considering her question. We’d been at this for over an hour. Following Drake’s suggestion, I’d hired Emily to create a short documentary about my eating disorder recovery. Interwoven with clips of me trying “fear foods,” the documentary would primarily be an interview about my journey to health.

So far, the interview had gone smoothly. I answered Emily’s questions with practiced ease, aiming for a tone both lighthearted and informative. Emily and I had established a rapport that felt more conversational than interrogative. But this last question… it threw me. Because I couldn’t tell Emily the truth about when I knew I needed to change—no one would believe me.

That night in my bathroom, the shower steam swirling around me, the cold marble pressing against my hip bones, was seared into my memory. I could still smell the hairspray, the essential oils. I could still feel the pain of seeing my unborn baby on the floor, a tiny pile of blood and flesh. And the shock of closing my eyes, dying, and reopening them moments later, three months in the past. The Moon Goddess had sent me back to the beginning of my pregnancy, to the moment before everything shattered.

Part of me still wondered if it had all been a dream, a mental episode induced by diet pills, my brain fabricating a nonexistent event. Perhaps I’d simply passed out and imagined those three months, including my death. But I knew that wasn’t true; events after my “rebirth” confirmed my first life's memories. I had permanently altered the course of those events.

“I, um…” I hesitated, struggling to answer. “Well, there was one day when… um…”

My voice trailed off. Emily cocked her head, pen poised. “Do you need a minute? We can come back to this.”

I glanced at the blinking red light on the nearby camera and shook my head, forcing a smile. I couldn’t risk this blunder going viral.

“No, no, it’s alright,” I said, waving dismissively. “It’s just… difficult. But yes, there was a moment.”

“Would you be comfortable sharing that moment?” Emily asked kindly.

I nodded, despite the lump in my throat. “Truthfully, I knew I would die if I didn’t do something.” Not a complete lie. I didn’t want to die. I remember nearly passing out in the bathroom after too many diet pills, thinking…

I paused, my voice catching, but I continued. “I thought that if I just let go of the counter, if I closed my eyes… it would all be over.”

Emily was silent, her pen scratching furiously. “But you didn’t,” she said softly, meeting my gaze.

“No.” I swallowed and looked away, at the camera. “I didn’t.”

A brief pause followed. Emily didn’t ask further questions. When I looked back, she was closing her notebook. “I think that’s enough for today,” she said gently, sliding a tissue box towards me. “Perhaps we could continue another time.”

A tear escaped unnoticed. I quickly dabbed it away.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Next week.”

Emily gathered her things, leaving me in silence. The birdsong had ceased; the clock’s ticking faded. All I heard was my racing heart.

Sniffling, I rested my head on the table. Goddess, it was so unfair that I couldn’t tell anyone. I felt so alone. I wished I could confide in someone, but… no one would believe me. They’d think I was insane. They’d…

The divorce would never go through if…

Before I finished the thought, a hand on my shoulder made me jerk upright. I hadn’t noticed Noah enter. He stood over me, concern etched on his face.

“You alright?”

I quickly nodded, wiping my cheeks, rising and moving towards the window—anything to escape his presence, his broad shoulders, piercing green eyes, and the scent of his cologne.

“I’m fine.”

Noah remained. I expected him to leave, but he stood there, arms at his sides. I felt both frustrated and intrigued. I wanted to be alone, yet his strangely innocent expression gave me pause.

“Do you need something?” I asked, crossing my arms.

He opened and closed his mouth several times, then his ears flushed, and he cleared his throat.

“Can I take you to dinner tonight?” he asked. “Just you and me?”