Outside Work We... •[TNN One-shots]•

My Darling, Eat •|| EVERYONE ||•

[TW: EATING DISORDER]

Prompt: Carly isn't eating again and everyone helps her.

Charlotte watched as Carly pushed her sandwich around on her plate, nibbling on the crust but never taking a proper bite. They sat together in the staffroom, the sounds of the nursery fading into the background. Charlotte took a sip of her tea, her brows furrowing as she noticed Carly’s pale complexion and tired eyes.

“Not hungry today?” Charlotte asked gently, setting her cup down.

Carly shrugged, avoiding eye contact. “Just not in the mood. I’ve got stuff to do anyway.”

Charlotte frowned, concern prickling at her chest. “Carly, you need to eat. Skipping meals isn’t going to help you get through the day.”

Carly’s lips twitched into a forced smile. “I’m fine, really. Just not feeling it.” She stood abruptly, gathering her untouched plate. “I’m cutting my lunch early. Thanks for sitting with me, though.”

Before Charlotte could protest, Carly disappeared out the door, leaving a swirl of worry in her wake.

Charlotte didn’t waste any time. She hurried to the office, where she spotted Reece handing over a neatly packed lunch to Marjorie. His easy smile faltered as Charlotte approached, her expression grim.

“What’s wrong?” Reece asked, concern immediately evident in his tone.

“It’s Carly,” Charlotte said, her voice hushed. “She’s not eating again. I tried asking her what she wanted or if something was wrong, but she just brushed it off. She left before I could push further.”

Marjorie straightened, her gaze hardening with determination. “This has been happening again?”

Charlotte nodded.

Reece exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll talk to her,” he said after a moment. “But this isn’t something we can solve by one person talking. She needs to feel supported. Tonight, let’s all eat together—make it impossible for her to feel alone in this.”

°•°•°--**--°•°•°

The dinner table at Reece and Marjorie’s home was full of chatter and warm energy. Plates were heaped with pasta, bread, and vibrant salads, a feast meant to encourage togetherness. Carly sat on the edge of the group, her plate mostly untouched. She poked at her food with her fork, eyes downcast, hoping no one would notice.

But of course, they did.

Reece, seated beside her, set his own fork down and leaned in slightly. His voice was calm, low enough not to draw attention from the others. “Hey, Carly. Can I tell you something?”

She glanced at him warily. “What?”

“When I was a kid, I hated sitting at the dinner table,” he began. “My dad—he’d force me to eat everything on my plate, no matter how full I was. If I didn’t finish, I’d be stuck there for hours.”

Carly blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “That… sounds awful.”

Reece nodded, his jaw tightening. “It was. It got to a point where food stopped feeling like food—it felt like a punishment. I’d avoid eating when I could, just so I didn’t have to deal with the pressure.” He paused, giving her a meaningful look. “But the thing is, when I got older, I realized I wasn’t punishing my dad by skipping meals—I was punishing myself.”

Carly swallowed hard, her fingers gripping her fork. “I’m not… I’m not trying to hurt myself,” she whispered.

“I know,” Reece said gently. “And I believe you. But sometimes we don’t realize the ways we’re holding onto pain until it’s too late. That’s why I want you to know you don’t have to deal with this alone. You’ve got all of us here, and we’re not going anywhere.”

Marjorie, sitting across the table, chimed in softly, her voice carrying a note of reassurance. “Reece is right. We care about you, Carly. And if you’re struggling, that’s okay—it just means we’ll help you figure it out.”

Charlotte reached over to squeeze Carly’s hand. “We’re not here to judge you or pressure you. We just want to make sure you’re okay. That’s all.”

Mia, ever blunt but surprisingly gentle, leaned back in her chair. “Look, kid, nobody’s gonna make you eat something you don’t want. But you matter too much to all of us to sit by and do nothing. If you hate this food, say the word, and we’ll order pizza. Or waffles. Whatever works. But you’ve gotta take care of yourself, yeah?”

Carly sat silently for a long moment, their words sinking in. She glanced at her plate, then at the faces around her—each one filled with quiet determination and care.

“I just… I don’t know how to fix it,” she admitted finally, her voice breaking.

Reece gave her a small, encouraging smile. “You don’t have to fix it all at once. You just have to take the first step. And if you stumble, we’ll be here to catch you.”

Marjorie added, “We’re in this together. No one’s expecting you to figure it out overnight. But you’re not alone, Carly. Not anymore.”

For the first time that evening, Carly picked up her fork and took a small bite of pasta. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make everyone around the table exchange hopeful glances.

After dinner, the group sat together to brainstorm ways to support Carly. They decided on shared lunches at work, a meal plan Carly could help create, and regular check-ins to make sure she felt supported without being overwhelmed. Reece even offered to attend a therapy session with her if she wanted.

It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was a start—a promise that Carly didn’t have to face her struggles alone.

[A/N: I'm not that sure if I like this too much, I feel like I didn't give it enough justice. It might get tweaked later on. And to my readers who struggle with this as well: You are not alone! You have people in your life who want to help you, so please, let them help.]