tayvis ~ invisible string

when i break it's in a million pieces (part 2)

TW: mentions of eating disorders

Taylor’s Perspective

The plane hummed softly as it cut through the clouds, the outside world a serene expanse of white. My stomach growled quietly, a sharp reminder of how long it had been since I’d last eaten anything substantial. I clenched my jaw and ignored it, shifting in my seat to make it less obvious. I could feel Tree’s eyes on me, watching, waiting, her concern practically radiating across the aisle.

“Hey, Tay,” Tree said casually, but her voice was edged with a softness that made me feel like a fragile vase someone was trying not to drop. “I’m ordering some food. Do you want anything? Sandwich, salad? Maybe some fruit?”

“No,” I replied, keeping my gaze fixed out the window. My voice was calm but clipped. “I’m fine. Not really hungry.”

The words were automatic, practiced, the kind of thing I’d been saying for years. And for a moment, I almost believed it myself. But deep down, I knew the truth: I was starving. My stomach churned, practically begging me to say yes, to ask for a sandwich or something small. But I couldn’t.

I glanced at my reflection in the window, trying to see what Tree saw when she looked at me. Was it obvious? Could she tell I was fighting this battle again?

Tree’s phone buzzed, and I heard the faint click of her nails against the screen as she read the message. She didn’t say anything, but her posture shifted, her body language giving her away. I turned my head slightly and caught her staring at me, her lips pressed into a tight line.

“You sure you don’t want anything?” she pressed, her tone firmer now. “It’s a long flight, Tay.”

"It's not a long flight Tree, it's an hour and a half, I'm sure i can last that long," I let out a sharp breath, tugging off my sunglasses and tossing them onto the seat beside me. “And I said I’m fine, Tree. I don’t know why everyone’s so obsessed with what I eat all of a sudden.”

She didn’t flinch, but her brow furrowed, concern etched into her expression. “I’m not obsessed. I’m just… concerned. You’ve got a lot going on, and you need to take care of yourself.”

Her words landed heavily, and I felt a surge of irritation rise in my chest. I hated this. I hated the way people always seemed to watch me, to scrutinize every bite I took—or didn’t take. It reminded me of all those years when I couldn’t so much as glance at a plate of food without hearing someone’s comment echoing in my head.

"Are you sure you want that much?"
"Maybe stick to the salad tonight."
"You don’t want to look bloated in the photos tomorrow, do you?"

The voices of ex-boyfriends, of managers, of trainers and stylists, all blurring together into one loud, relentless chorus that had shaped the way I saw myself. Even when I thought I’d silenced them, they still found ways to creep back in.

“I did eat yesterday,” I snapped, though the lie tasted bitter in my mouth. “Maybe it was when Travis wasn’t looking, or when he was out, but I ate. I don’t need everyone hovering over me.”

Tree’s expression softened, but she didn’t back down. “Tay, I’m not trying to hover. I just want to make sure you’re okay. It’s my job to look out for you.”

Her words stung, not because they were harsh, but because they were true. She was trying to help, and I hated that I was making it so hard for her. But I couldn’t help it. Every time someone brought up food, it felt like a spotlight was being turned on me, highlighting every insecurity I’d ever had.

“I said I’m fine,” I muttered, turning back to the window.

The rest of the flight passed in tense silence. Tree kept glancing at me, and every so often, she’d ask, “You okay, Tay?” Her voice was always gentle, but it grated on my nerves.