Page 128 of Healing Eleanor

My stomach turns at the sight of Eleanor. Her eyes are ringed with shadows, her skin pale, almost translucent. She looks like she’s been wrung dry. I fight the urge to turn away. It makes me sick to see her like this.

These last few days have ground her down to nothing. She’s pushed herself to the brink, and it shows in every line of her body.

The guilt climbs up my spine. Maybe I should’ve taken her out sooner. Maybe giving her Odette and Odile was the beginning of her undoing. At first, she resisted the role, but then she surprised me, giving the parts a chance. Until now. Until these last two weeks. Now I can’t shake the question burning through me… What if I am her downfall?

Lily catches my eye, and the worry etched across her face confirms I’m not the only one who sees it. She leans into Eleanor, whispers something I can’t catch, then strides straight toward me with a look that could cut glass.

“Lily,” I greet, though it comes out flat.

She crosses her arms, jaw tight, fire in her eyes. “You have some explaining to do.”

“And what would that be?” I ask, crossing my arms to mirror her stance.

Her nostrils flare. “What is going on with Eleanor?” She casts a glance over her shoulder at the barre where Eleanor is stretching, then pins me again with her stare. “And don’t even think about lying. I know something is wrong.”

I release a long breath, my gaze falling to the floor. “Why do you think I’d know?” I challenge.

“Don’t you dare deflect, Nik. I know you know.” She doesn’t let up.

I lift my eyes to hers, my voice dropping. “She… has an eating disorder, Lily. Alright?”

Lily gasps, her hand flying to her chest. “No, I didn’t want to be right.”

My brows knit together. “What do you mean?”

She bites the inside of her lip, hesitating. “This weekend… we were hanging out, and…” she trails off, shaking her head like she can’t bring herself to say it.

“And?” I press.

Tears well in her eyes. “We grabbed lunch, and right after, she bolted to the bathroom. It felt… off. So I followed her.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “Nik, I heard her throwing up.” Her voice cracks. “She didn’t seem sick. She came out smiling, like nothing happened. And I thought maybe—” She sniffles. “Maybe she was doing it to herself. And now you’ve just confirmed it.”

Her words land like a blow to the chest, though deep down I know nothing I’ve done to help worked. Nothing I’ve tried has been enough to pull Eleanor back.

“Lily, let’s just—” I try to steady her.

“What do we do, Nik?” She cuts me off, tears streaking her cheeks.

I glance around, panic prickling the back of my neck. This isn’t the time or place. If Kasper, or worse, Eleanor overhears—

I pull Lily further into the corner, lowering my voice. “Lily, listen to me. You’ve got to pull yourself together. Right now we have to run the variation. We cannot talk about this here.”

She wipes at her tears, still trembling but nodding. “Fine. But I’m not letting this go.”

“Good,” I say quietly, the weight of it pressing into me. “Neither am I.”

She nods again, turns and slowly makes her way back to the barre beside Eleanor, stretching with stiff movements.

This is spiraling faster than I ever imagined. It’s one thing for me to uncover Eleanor’s disordered eating, but Lily? She isn’t the most perceptive person in the world. If she’s noticed, that means Eleanor has been doing this so often it’s become her normal.

Russell walks into the studio and heads straight to Kasper, who claps his hands with authority. “Attention, please.”

The room stills instantly. Every dancer turns toward them at the front.

“Today we’ll be running Swan Lake in full,” Kasper announces, scanning the room with sharp eyes. “If there are any issues with your costumes, tell one of us.” He gestures toward himself, Russell, and me. “Remember—today is just a run-through. Tomorrow, we rehearse as though it’s opening night. Places.”

I move aside, watching the room shift into focus. My gaze snags on Lily, who—shockingly—is trying to smile through the heaviness on her face. Gabriel and Dillon whisper to her, but she ignores them. I’ve never seen her like this.

Then there’s Eleanor. Her costume hangs just loose enough to betray the weight she’s lost. Her face is set in determination, but all I can see is the exhaustion beneath it. Without the sleeves of her leotard, her bones stand out sharper than ever. She looks like she’s dancing on the edge of collapse.