The Bride Widow
Chapter 128: Ch 128: Call the Family - Part 1

Chapter 128: Ch 128: Call the Family - Part 1

Anabella’s usually vibrant presence, even in her quiet determination, seemed fragile and distant now. The staff exchanged helpless glances, their hearts sinking as they watched the person they worked alongside every day look so small and vulnerable.

Minutes later, the sound of sirens cut through the tension, growing louder as they approached. Paramedics rushed into the bakery, their professionalism and calm demeanor bringing a glimmer of relief to the worried staff.

"Step back, please," one of the paramedics said as they assessed Anabella.

"She’s been working nonstop," a coworker explained, their voice trembling. "She said she was fine, but she’s been looking worse all day."

The paramedics quickly checked her vital signs, noting her elevated temperature and shallow breathing. They carefully lifted her onto a stretcher, securing her with practiced efficiency.

"We’re taking her to the hospital," one of them informed the manager. "She’s severely dehydrated and possibly exhausted. She’ll need medical attention immediately."

The manager nodded, wringing their hands. "Please take care of her."

As the ambulance pulled away, the bakery staff stood in a somber huddle. The shattered tray and scattered pastries remained on the floor, a stark reminder of what had just happened.

"She’s always pushing herself so hard," one of them murmured, their voice heavy with guilt. "We should have made her rest."

The manager sighed, shaking their head. "We tried, but Anabella’s stubborn. She doesn’t want to burden anyone."

"But now she’s in the hospital," another said softly. "I hope she’ll be okay."

The staff exchanged worried glances, their thoughts united in the hope that Anabella would recover quickly. Despite the chaos of the bakery, the absence of her quiet determination left a noticeable void, one that weighed heavily on everyone’s hearts.

______

The wail of the ambulance siren pierced through the city’s steady hum, sending a ripple of concern through the people on the street. Inside, Anabella lay on the stretcher, her breathing shallow and uneven. Her complexion, usually so vibrant, was pale and clammy, her features taut with exhaustion. Beside her, the bakery manager gripped the edge of the stretcher, her knuckles white as fear consumed her.

"Is she going to be okay?" the manager asked, her voice trembling as she looked at the paramedic.

"We’re stabilizing her as best as we can," the paramedic replied calmly, though his eyes were sharp and focused. "We’ll know more once we get her to the hospital."

The manager felt her heart drop. She had seen Anabella work tirelessly every day, always with a polite smile and a quiet determination. But this—this was something she hadn’t expected. She had no idea that beneath Anabella’s composed exterior was a storm of stress that had finally pushed her body past its limit.

The ambulance screeched to a halt at the hospital’s emergency entrance, and the back doors flew open. A team of medical staff swarmed the stretcher, swiftly wheeling Anabella into the brightly lit corridors. The manager hurried after them, feeling out of place amidst the organized chaos.

"Please, take care of her," she called out, her voice breaking.

"We’ll do everything we can," a nurse reassured her before vanishing into the treatment room with the rest of the team.

The doors swung shut with a thud, leaving the manager alone in the hallway. Her chest tightened as she realized how helpless she felt. She paced the floor, her thoughts racing. Was it her fault? Had she pushed Anabella too hard? Should she have insisted on sending her home earlier?

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours as the manager sat on a plastic chair, staring at the floor tiles. Every so often, her gaze would dart to the treatment room doors, hoping for some news. Her mind was a whirlwind of guilt and worry.

"She works so hard," the manager muttered under her breath. "She never complains, never asks for help. How could I not see how much she was struggling?"

She replayed the last few weeks in her mind, searching for signs she might have missed. The dark circles under Anabella’s eyes, the way she sometimes swayed on her feet, the polite but firm refusals when anyone offered her a break—how could she have ignored all of that?

The thought that she might have failed one of her employees was almost too much to bear.

The doors finally opened, and a doctor emerged, his face lined with a mixture of concentration and exhaustion. The manager jumped to her feet, clutching her bag tightly.

"Is she okay?" she blurted out.

"She’s stable for now," the doctor said, his tone professional but gentle. "However, she’s in a fragile state. She collapsed due to chronic stress, which has been affecting her physical health for quite some time. It’s also causing her pheromones to build up dangerously, which can lead to further complications if not addressed."

The manager blinked, trying to process the information. Chronic stress. Pheromone buildup. It sounded serious, far more serious than she had anticipated.

"Is she going to be alright?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"With rest and significant changes to her lifestyle, she’ll recover," the doctor replied. "But she needs to stay away from stressful situations. We’ll be keeping her here for at least a day to monitor her condition. After that, she’ll need a strong support system to help her through this. You should call her family to be here at such a time."

The manager stood in the brightly lit corridor of the hospital, clutching her bag with trembling hands. The doctor’s words about Anabella’s condition still echoed in her mind.

Chronic stress. Dangerous pheromone buildup. A fragile state. It was too much to process all at once, and yet she knew she had to keep herself together for Anabella’s sake.

he doctor’s suggestion to contact Anabella’s family had thrown her completely off balance. Family? In all the time Anabella had worked at the bakery, she had never mentioned anyone.

She kept her private life tightly sealed, offering only the occasional polite nod or vague answer when asked about her past.

It wasn’t as though the manager hadn’t noticed Anabella’s quiet nature before, but now, faced with the task of reaching out to someone close to her, she realized how little she truly knew about the young woman.