Gorged and Grieving: Feeding to Cope After My Husband’s Death: Well Fed and Insatiable for Food

Levi said he loved me for my curves, but it wasn’t love—it was hunger.

“You’re my perfect feedee,” he’d whisper, his hands gripping my waist as if I were a prize he’d won. “And I’m going to make you even better.”

After my husband died, food became my only solace—a way to drown my grief and fill the silence of an empty home.

I started a support group, telling myself it was to heal and find purpose, but it quickly became an excuse to eat, to indulge, to grow.

Levi showed up like a storm—young, charming, and dangerous—promising me love but pulling me deeper into his twisted world.

“You’re beautiful now,” he said one night, placing a plate in front of me. “But imagine how much more irresistible you’ll be with just a little more.”

I wanted to change—for Nora, my daughter, who looked at me like I was already gone.

“Mom, you’re killing yourself,” she told me once, her voice trembling. “He’s using you, and you’re letting him.”

I wanted to change for my unborn baby, a life growing inside me that deserved better than a mother trapped in her own body.

But Levi wouldn’t let me go, his words like poison wrapped in sugar. “Why would you want to change who you are? This is us, Fiona.”

Eating with him was intimate, intoxicating. Every bite felt like surrender, every pound a piece of myself slipping away.

The support group I’d started to escape my habits only fueled them—we gathered to eat, to celebrate our gains, to drown our pain in food.

Nora’s disappointment grew sharper every day, her anger cutting deeper than I could bear. “You’re choosing food over me, Mom. Over your own grandchild!”

The night Levi pulled into the drive-through, I knew I was at a breaking point.

“You can’t fight this, Fiona,” he said, handing me the bag of food. “This is who you are. You love it as much as I do.”

The baby kicked as the smell of grease filled the car, my hands shaking as I unwrapped the burger.

I could hear Nora’s voice in my head, begging me to stop, to choose a different life—for her, for the baby, for myself.

But Levi’s eyes were on me, dark and full of control. “Just one bite,” he urged, his voice low. “Prove to me you’re mine.”

I stared at the food, at the life I’d built around this addiction, and at the man who had made it feel like love.

What do you do when your greatest comfort is also your greatest prison?

Disclaimer: This book explores complex themes of addiction, control, and obsession. It does not have a Happily Ever After (HEA) or Happy For Now (HFN) ending, leaving the story open for interpretation.

Pages: 36

Words: 9210

This is a fast burn, slice of life romance.