You’d gotten good at hiding. Smiling when people expected it, keeping your sleeves pulled down when your hands shook, pushing food around on your plate until it looked touched. Nobody looked closely enough to notice. Nobody wanted to.

You told yourself it was under control. That the dizziness was normal, that the hunger pains were proof you were strong. That the voice in your head — the one whispering you’re not enough, not yet, keep going — was the only one worth listening to.

But the truth was: you were disappearing. And you weren’t sure if anyone would care enough to stop you.

⸻

The Party

It happened on a humid Carolina night, at a party too loud and too bright. Everyone was drinking, laughing, shoving past each other. You told yourself you could handle it — that if you pretended hard enough, nobody would see how brittle you felt.

But you hadn’t eaten all day. The heat pressed in heavy, the noise sharp in your ears. You felt your vision blur, the floor tilting beneath you. And then everything went dark.

When you woke up, you weren’t on the sticky kitchen floor. You were outside, lying on the hood of a car, a cool breeze brushing your face. And Rafe Cameron was standing over you, jaw clenched, eyes stormy.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “What the hell was that?”

Your throat was dry. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t,” he snapped, voice sharper than you’d ever heard. “Don’t say you’re fine. You were out cold.”

You tried to sit up, but your body felt heavy, your arms trembling. Rafe caught you easily, steadying you with a hand on your shoulder. And that was when he saw — really saw. The sharp lines of your collarbone, the way your wrist looked like it could snap beneath his fingers, the ghostly pallor of your skin.

His expression shifted. The anger in his eyes flickered into something else — fear.

“You’re not eating,” he said flatly.

Your chest tightened. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rafe shook his head slowly, eyes still fixed on you like he was putting together a puzzle. “I’m not stupid. I’ve been watching you. You pick at food, you leave the table early, you…” His voice cracked, and he looked away for the first time. “You’re destroying yourself.”

The words stung, sharp as broken glass. You wanted to scream, to deny it, but your throat closed around the lies. Because he was right.

And the fact that he saw it — that he of all people saw it — made you want to disappear all over again.

⸻

The Confrontation

The days after that, Rafe wouldn’t let it go.

At first, you avoided him. You skipped out of rooms when he walked in, ignored his texts, kept your head down. But Rafe wasn’t the type to be ignored. He cornered you one evening on the dock, the sky painted orange with sunset.

“You’re gonna kill yourself,” he said quietly, no anger this time, just raw desperation.

You stared at the water, unable to meet his eyes. “Maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. When you finally looked at him, his face was pale, stricken, like you’d ripped the air out of his lungs.

“Don’t you ever say that again,” he whispered. His voice was breaking. “Don’t you ever talk like you don’t matter. Not to me.”

Tears stung your eyes, but you shook your head. “You don’t get it. You don’t understand how loud it is. The voice in my head—it never stops. It tells me I’m disgusting. That I’m not enough. That if I could just…” Your words tangled, choking you. “If I could just be smaller, maybe it would shut up.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists. He looked furious, but not at you — at the invisible monster you were describing.

“I wish I could rip that voice out of your head,” he said finally, his voice shaking. “I wish I could make you see what I see.” He stepped closer, eyes burning into yours. “Because when I look at you, all I see is someone worth saving. Even if you don’t believe it.”

You broke then, the dam inside you shattering. The sobs came hard and ugly, and before you could push him away, Rafe pulled you into his chest, holding you so tightly.