The Bride Widow
Chapter 126: Ch 126: Not Feeling Well - Part 1

Chapter 126: Ch 126: Not Feeling Well - Part 1

The sun had barely risen when Anabella stepped into the bakery, her mind clouded with thoughts she couldn’t shake.

The bakery’s familiar warmth and the comforting smell of freshly baked bread usually helped her settle into her day, but today was different. Everything felt heavier—her thoughts, her body, and even the air she breathed.

As she tied her apron and headed to the prep counter, she noticed her hands trembling slightly. She tried to steady herself, forcing her attention to the dough she needed to knead.

The repetitive motion of pushing and folding the dough usually had a calming effect, but her focus kept slipping. She stared at the flour-dusted countertop, her vision blurring slightly.

The cheerful chatter of her coworkers sounded distant. She could hear snippets of conversation—plans for the weekend, comments about the rush hour crowd—but none of it registered fully. She felt detached, like she was watching the scene unfold from outside her own body.

When the first customers arrived, Anabella moved to the register, hoping that staying busy would help her shake off the fog. A young couple stepped up, their laughter bright and infectious. She managed a polite smile as she rang up their order, but even that felt like an effort.

"One cappuccino, one latte, and a chocolate croissant," she repeated back to them, her voice barely above a murmur.

The customer nodded, but their smile faltered as they glanced at her pale face. "Are you okay?" they asked, concern evident in their tone.

Anabella quickly nodded. "I’m fine, just a little tired. Long night," she added with a forced laugh.

As the morning rush picked up, Anabella found herself slipping further behind. She miscounted change twice and accidentally handed the wrong order to a customer.

Each mistake added to her mounting frustration, but she bit her tongue and carried on, determined not to let anyone see how much she was struggling.

Her coworkers weren’t blind to her condition. A young beta working alongside her at the counter exchanged concerned glances with another staff member. They had noticed how Anabella swayed slightly as she stood, her hands gripping the counter for balance every few minutes.

When she moved to the back to fetch a tray of pastries, one coworker took the opportunity to approach her.

"Anabella, are you sure you’re okay? You’re not looking too good," they said gently, their voice laced with genuine worry.

Anabella waved them off with a weak smile. "I’m fine, really. Just a little tired. It’s nothing I can’t handle."

The beta hesitated but didn’t push further. They knew Anabella was stubborn, and it wasn’t their place to pry. Still, they couldn’t help but exchange a worried glance with another coworker as Anabella returned to the counter, her steps slower than usual.

Throughout the morning, Anabella waged a quiet war with herself. Her body screamed for rest, but her pride refused to let her give in. She kept her head down, focusing on one task at a time, telling herself she just needed to get through the day.

The familiar rhythm of the bakery offered a small sense of stability, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the exhaustion creeping over her. She caught her reflection in the glass display case at one point and barely recognized the person staring back at her. Her face was pale, her eyes shadowed with fatigue, and her usually bright expression was replaced by one of quiet resignation.

As she handed a customer their order, she noticed her hands trembling again. She clasped them behind her back, hoping no one would notice. The customer smiled politely and walked away, but Anabella felt the sting of embarrassment settle deep in her chest.

Her mind raced with self-recriminations. You’re fine. Stop overthinking. You can do this, she told herself, but even her internal pep talks felt hollow.

Every action felt like a monumental effort, every step like wading through quicksand. Still, Anabella refused to stop. She needed the money, needed the distraction. Anything was better than going home and being left alone with her thoughts

Anabella’s unsteady movements didn’t go unnoticed by the bakery staff. They exchanged subtle glances throughout the morning, each of them silently wondering how to approach her. Despite her insistence that she was fine, her pale complexion, drooping shoulders, and sluggish steps betrayed her.

It was the boss, a middle-aged beta with a kind demeanor, who finally decided to step in. As the bakery’s manager, they prided themselves on maintaining a supportive work environment, and seeing Anabella struggle like this tugged at their heartstrings.

During a brief lull in the morning rush, the manager approached her at the counter. Their voice was calm but firm as they spoke.

"Anabella, can I talk to you for a moment?"

She looked up, startled, and nodded hesitantly, following them to the small office in the back. Once inside, the manager gestured for her to sit down, but she shook her head, choosing to lean against the wall instead.

"Look," they began gently, "I’ve been watching you today, and it’s clear that you’re not feeling well. You’ve been working hard, and I appreciate that, but you need to take care of yourself too."

Anabella’s immediate response was to shake her head. "I’m fine, really. It’s just a little tiredness. I’ll be okay."

The manager sighed, crossing their arms as they studied her. "I know you want to push through, but there’s no shame in needing a break. Your health is more important than any shift here. Why don’t you head home and get some rest?"

Her stomach tightened at their words, a mixture of guilt and fear coursing through her. She couldn’t afford to take time off—not financially and not emotionally. The bakery was her sanctuary, the one place where she felt useful and grounded.

"I appreciate your concern," she said softly, her voice steady despite the exhaustion weighing her down, "but I really need to stay. I’m fine, I promise."

The manager frowned but didn’t press further. They could see the determination in her eyes, even if it was misguided. Still, they wouldn’t let her carry on without some accommodations.

"Okay," they relented, their tone still firm. "If you’re staying, then you need to promise me you’ll take breaks—plenty of them. Sit down when you can, drink water, and let someone else handle things if it gets too much. Understood?"

Anabella hesitated before nodding. "Understood."