I thought I knew what heartbreak was.

I thought it was the first time I noticed some girl from school mocking me, blowing up her face and waddling with her arms out to imitate my weight. I'd ran to the bathroom and locked myself in there for the rest of the day.

I thought it was the day I stepped on a weight scale when I decided to lose my weight and saw the number one-hundred and ninety-three staring back at me. I starved myself for three days.

I thought it was walking across the stage at my high school graduation and having no one except my parents cheer for me because I'd lost all my friends by that time. I deleted all my social media accounts that very night after seeing posts about parties and trips I wasn't invited to.

Those hurt a lot—don't get me wrong. It's why I remember those moments so vividly and resist the urge to throw up at the very reminder of them.

But nothing has ever hurt like this.

The loss I feel is so staggeringly real. Like a chunk from my insides was ripped away and now there's this gigantic hole that aches every time I take a breath. I'm doing everything I can to keep my mind off it but I can't ignore the emptiness I feel inside of me. I feel incomplete. Destroyed. I feel like I'm mourning.

I bury my face into my pillow, sobs wracking through my body. It hurts everywhere. Not just in my chest, that's numb and void to begin with. This heartbreak hurts every cell in my body to the point of no function. I can't eat or sleep or think. I just ache.

I miss Holden. So much.

And the knowledge that he's just a couple of steps across the hall is something that's just short of killing me. Although I'm pretty sure he's not home these days. I'm pathetic enough that I wait by the door every night and listen for him to come home around his usual time. I heard him the first couple days but not after that. I'd bet good money that he's sleeping at the office and it makes me wonder if it's because he can't stand to be here. He probably hates me and I don't blame him. I promised him I wouldn't run but I never promised I wouldn't let him run ahead of me. The betrayal in his eyes when I broke things off a week ago is something that still haunts me.

It hurts but I don't regret it. I can't keep doing this. I can't let other people fight my battles for me. It's why everyone thinks it's easy to start a fight with me in the first place. I've never stood up for myself before or picked myself off the ground. I need to learn how to do it myself and I can't do that if Holden comes in with his influential name and all his money and basically fixing everything for me. I have to want to stand up for myself. I have to pick myself before I pick him.

I'm doing the best I can. I contacted almost every magazine or tabloid that wrote about me and asked if they would take my pictures down because I didn't consent to it. I threatened to bring in my lawyer (that I don't have but they don't need to know that) and it seemed to do the trick. I'm not a public figure so they can't just use my pictures like they could with celebrities or other impressionable people. Some of them were nice enough to take their articles down. Others shunned me out and said it was business before hanging up on me. One of them released another article yesterday about "Holden Rey's girlfriend has an emotional breakdown following her hour of fame."

I'm doing the best I can.

The sound of a knock on my door goes straight to that place between my brows. I groan in misery and rub my aching head. I can't face anyone right now but the knocking grows more incessant and it's nearly midnight. The last thing I need is the neighbours complaining so I reluctantly throw off my covers, tightening my robe around me and shuffling to the door. I've been in the same pyjamas for a week but I can't find it in me to care.

I check through the peephole and don't see anyone at first. Oh God, what if someone is punking me? What if they're waiting out there with a camera to snap a picture when I least expect it? Given what this week has been like, I wouldn't say that's an exaggeration.

"Who is it?" I call out warily.

"Pumpkin?" A familiar voice calls back.

Relief slams into me and I'm already crying by the time I swing the door open. I throw my arms around the two grinning figures, who hug me back just as hard.

"Mom. Dad." I sob. "You're here."

"Of course we are," Dad says gruffly in my ear.

"Our baby needs us," Mom adds, sniffling.

They squeeze me tight and I cry harder. The world did something to me this past week. Took advantage of me and exploited me in a way I didn't know was possible. I've felt exposed and vulnerable. But with my parents holding me I feel safe all over again. Protected. And I might be almost thirty-one years old but I'll always need my parents and nobody could ever make me feel as safe as them.

"Let's go inside." Dad kisses my temple and I nod, pulling away.

I try to grab one of their suitcases but they bicker and slap my hands away, wheeling them in themselves. I just swipe my face and try to see through the blur in my eyes since my tears won't slow down. I'm not even sure how I'm retaining all the water in my body anymore.

"My poor baby." Mom fusses, reaching up to smush my face. She's half my size but there's no stopping her when she man-handles me. "Look at how thin you look. Gerald, look!"

"I see it," Dad agrees, disappointed. "She's not eating."

"She is right here," I point out. Then I mumble, "And she's eating...here and there."

"Did you have dinner yet?" Mom demands.

"I've been nauseous all day."

"That wasn't my question, now was it? Did you eat dinner?"

"Well, no, but—"

"I'll make some now."

"It's almost midnight," I point out.

"I don't care. I will not watch you turn away food because you don't feel good about yourself." Her breath catches, expression stubborn. "I'm going to make you food and you're going to eat. You are not going to starve yourself."

"Okay," I agree softly when tears form in her eyes. It reminds me that my parents watched me go through this once and that this is probably hurting them as much as it's hurting me. "Yeah, sure. How about some pizza?"

Mom nods, expression turning a little brighter. "The Sierra Special. I knew you would ask for that. I bought ready-made pizza dough with me."

She grabs one of the grocery bags that was with her and starts sifting through it, humming under her breath.

The reminder hits me unexpectedly. The last time I had the Sierra Special was the day Holden and I first got together, admitting all the ways we hurt each other before we spent the rest of the night healing. Healing in sexy, fun, and wonderful ways. He made me feel amazing that night and every night since. He's never made me doubt how much he cares for me, or how much he loves my body and all it has to offer. My eyes go downcast with guilt.

"I know that face." Dad throws an arm around me when I sit next to him on the couch. I lean my head on his shoulder. "I've seen this look on your face before. You were sixteen and your friendship with Holden ended. You were heartbroken."

I snort. "I was a kid. I didn't know heartbreak."

"Yes, you did. You knew heartbreak because you knew love. You've always loved that boy, Pumpkin. Just because you were young doesn't mean it wasn't real."

My smile is weak. It definitely felt real to me. I mean, it says a lot that I never truly got over him even during the twelve years I didn't see or hear from him at all.

"I take it you two are going through a rough patch?"

"If you can call a break up a rough patch, sure."

"He broke up with you?" Dad's usually soft voice hardens in a rare show of anger.

I quickly deflect, sitting up again and shaking my head. "No. I broke up with him and he wouldn't exactly let me at first."

His expression shifts to confusion. "Why on earth would you break up with him?"

Mom gasps dramatically. "Sierra! Tell me you didn't. I already started on your matching Christmas sweaters!"

"What?" I'm almost sure the look on my face is beyond horrified. "That's...why?"

"And they were the cutest things. Yours had a cup on it and his had a cake and together you two would be a cupcake!"

Oh my God. I look at Dad, silently begging him to tell me she's just joking, but he winces. "She skipped a surgery to plan this. Let her have this one."

Good grief. I speak under my breath. "Even if we were still together he'd never wear it. She knows that, right?"

"I don't know," Dad murmurs in amusement. "If there's one thing that boy always had it was loyalty. Haven't seen him in years but intuition tells me that hasn't changed about him."

Yeah, because that's exactly the reminder I needed.

"Honey," Dad urges softly when I don't respond. "I know it's easier said than done but please don't believe anything anyone says about you, least of all complete strangers. They have no idea that you're sharp as a whip, or witty and fun, or down to earth. And you are a beautiful woman. You stopped my heart from the moment I first held you because I couldn't believe that a sad sack like me made someone as gorgeous as you."

"Dad," I reprimand. What a little liar. Dad has always been conventionally handsome, tall and trim with sharp features. He was a hit in his days, and even now all the nurses go ga-ga over him.

"It's true. You're a carbon copy of your mother and thank goodness for that."

"Oh, hush." A fierce blush takes over Mom's cheeks and I hold back a smile. I know I've been bullied for more than half my life but I'm pretty sure I only got through it because my parents showed me the best example of love. They made me believe in it when I never had a reason to.

Dad winks over at her before looking at me again. "You have always been beautiful. Tell us you believe that about yourself."

I look down at my hands, nervously fiddling with them. I can't tell them that or I'd be lying. I don't see what they see.

"Oh, darling." Mom sighs and walks over to us, taking a seat on my other side. She smooths my hair back. "I know how difficult it can be accepting yourself. I went through it too and the last thing I ever wanted was for my own daughter to experience the self-loathing I felt at multiple points in my life."

"Mom. You make it sound like you passed it on to me or something."

"But I did, in a way. You do have most of my genes and one of them is my body shape. I was never a thin woman. It didn't matter that I ate healthy or exercised; my body shape has always been on the curvier side. I struggled a lot to accept myself until I met your father, and then I struggled some more out of guilt that my daughter faced those same insecurities."

I blink at her. "That's not your fault."

"It's not yours either. You've naturally grown up with weight on you. It's genetic. But when the world poked at you instead of understanding that every body is different, that's when you turned to food for comfort and it gradually went out of control. But honey, that happens to everyone. Everyone struggles and loses control sometimes. The difference is your struggles physically showed and so everyone thought they had a right to give their opinion on it."

"I guess," I whisper, overcome with emotion.

She's right. My baby fat stuck with me at least until I was eleven years old. At least. It would have went away naturally but I was being fat-shamed as young as eight years old. Eventually I believed what everyone was saying about me and just gave up, turning to food.

"Your mother tried to run from me too, you know?" Dad adds.

"Really?" I look at him. I've never heard this part of the story. Just that they were both interns at the same hospital and fell in love.

"Oh, yes." He chuckles. "She was afraid I wouldn't be able to look past her weight. She was the one who was hung up on it when it didn't even factor to me."

"It's true," Mom admits. "You've grown into a healthy and average body, Pumpkin. Slim yet curvy. Look at the difference between us. I've always been short and plump and your father was a hot-shot. I'm not the kind of girl I expected him to notice."

"She was a disaster. Always knocking over things and rambling on and on. The other nurses and interns were so uptight and hostile. Your mother was like a breath of fresh air I couldn't get enough of."

Mom giggles now and I find myself smiling. These two are so love-sick.

"The doubt is still there but your father always finds a way to get rid of it."

"It's true. Just yesterday she wasn't feeling the best about herself so I thought I'd make her feel good. You know, intimately? We tried something called doggy—"

"Dad!" I shriek and cover my ears. "For the love of all that is good and holy, do not finish that sentence!"

"How did you know what I was going to say? Why do you know these things?"

"I'm literally thirty, Dad."

"That Holden lives down the hall, doesn't he?"

"Dad." I grab his arm when he tries to stand up. "Stop pretending like you hate him. You know you don't."

"Of course I don't. He's the one that put your mother and I on a plane here."

If I wasn't sitting, I'm positive I would have fell over. "What?"

"He called us and asked that we come check up on you. He booked our tickets and arranged our flights, first class. We had no idea what was going on until he told us, Sierra. Somehow he knew you hadn't said a word."

"We wish you'd told us." Mom lays her head on my shoulder.

Dad wraps an arm around both of us and I hug him back, still a little flustered from what he just told me.

Part of me isn't surprised because it's so like Holden to go above and beyond. It makes me want to go back to him. Apologize for being so stupid. But waking up everyday is still the hardest thing I've had to do for days now. I don't know how to come face-to-face with him when I still can't even face myself.

Nobody said choosing yourself is easy, and now I know why.

________________________

A/N

This hurts so much! My heart is breaking for these two! They're trying so hard to heal after being exploited by the whole world and that's not an easy task. All things that are worth it take time, y'all.

Please VOTE, comment and share if you liked this chapter!

Happy Reading :)