Fading Lines | (Line Series, Book 1) ✔️

chapter twenty-six: falling apart

—Falling Apart

➳ Brooklyn Brody

I sat in Jesse's office, the soft hum of the city outside muffled by the thick walls, the kind meant to keep your secrets safe, contained. It had been a while since I'd been here. I'd thought I was done with therapy, but here I was again, because the anxiety had started to feel heavier, sharper, like a weight pressing into me rather than just on me. The only place I could admit to that kind of weight was here.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, tracing the edge of the armrest with my thumb. Talking about my feelings wasn't new to me, not here in Jesse's office. But this—admitting out loud everything that had been tangled in my mind for weeks—felt different. He'd probably seen the headlines, the tabloid stories hinting at drama, blowing everything out of proportion. The kind of salacious, overblown titles designed to sell magazines and rack up online clicks.

"You've probably read the news," I said, my voice more resigned than anything. It was exhausting, feeling like my life was a spectacle for anyone who cared to watch.

Jesse nodded, but his expression remained calm, neutral. "I know what the news says," he replied. "But what's the truth? What has been going on with you—and how do you feel about it?"

That question hit me harder than I expected. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, staring down at the rug's woven pattern. How do I feel about it? I'd been so busy just trying to keep up—running from college classes to my internship, dodging stares on campus, pretending the whispers didn't sting. I'd shoved my feelings so deep down, trying to ignore them, that I hadn't even stopped to process any of it.

The truth was, I felt exposed. Stripped bare in a way I hadn't signed up for. Yes, I'd known dating Dylan would come with complications— But this wasn't just a complication. It was an invasion. The constant scrutiny, the way people seemed to think they knew me just because they'd seen my face in an article, because they'd read a headline that hinted I was some kind of "replacement" for Dylan's ex-wife.

I could feel the tightness in my chest, the familiar prickling of anxiety pressing in. It was as though I was split in two: one part of me, trying to move forward and stay focused, and the other, falling behind, caught up in this whirlpool of criticism and gossip, never able to shake it off.

"I... I feel like I'm being suffocated," I admitted finally. The words came slowly, like each one was clawing its way up from somewhere deep, almost forgotten. "Like I can't breathe, can't move without someone watching or judging me."

Jesse's face softened, his calm presence an anchor in the midst of everything swirling inside me.

"And even though Dylan means the world to me, I'm not sure I can handle this part of his life. I thought I could, but being reduced to some accessory in his story, some scandal people gossip about... it's like I'm disappearing in my own life."

The admission settled between us, heavy and raw, and I could feel its weight shift something inside me. For the first time, I allowed myself to recognize just how much all of this was affecting me—not just the relationship with Dylan, but my sense of self, my confidence, my dreams for my future.

I paused, feeling the familiar knot in my chest tighten. I hadn't told Jesse much about Dylan before. I'd mentioned him, sure. But now that we were truly together, everything felt more intense. More vulnerable.

"Being with Dylan feels different," I began, my voice faltering. "I thought..." I stopped, swallowing hard before I tried again. "I thought you had to love yourself before you could really love someone else. That's what everyone says, right? But it's bullshit." I looked up at Jesse, my voice quiet but steady. "I've never truly loved myself, but I love Dylan. And when I'm with him, it's like I forget what hating myself feels like. Even if it's just for a little while."