The Bride Widow
Chapter 129: Ch 129: Call the Family - Part 2

Chapter 129: Ch 129: Call the Family - Part 2

"I... I don’t even know if she has family," the manager had stammered. The doctor had given her a kind but firm look.

"Most people have someone. A parent, a sibling, a friend. If you don’t have their contact information, we’ll ask Anabella once she’s awake.

But it’s important to notify someone who can support her through this," the doctor had replied before leaving to tend to other patients.

Now, standing alone in the hallway, the manager felt a pang of guilt. Anabella had always been diligent, always the first to offer help and the last to complain.

She was dependable, but that very dependability had perhaps made it too easy for the manager—and everyone else—to overlook her struggles.

She approached the nurses’ station, hoping to get more clarity. "Excuse me," she said, her voice hesitant. "When Anabella wakes up, will she... will she be okay to give us some contact information? I’m worried she might not want to share it."

The nurse, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, offered a sympathetic smile. "That happens sometimes. Patients in her situation often feel ashamed or afraid to burden others. But the important thing is to let her know she’s not alone. Even if she doesn’t want to share, just being here shows her someone cares."

The manager nodded, her guilt deepening. Was she someone who truly cared, or was she just another person who had taken advantage of Anabella’s reliability?

She thought back to the countless times Anabella had covered extra shifts, taken on more work than she should have, and always done so with a quiet smile. How many times had she brushed off Anabella’s exhaustion as just part of the job?

When she returned to the waiting area, she found herself pacing, her thoughts racing. What if Anabella didn’t have anyone to call? What if she was completely alone in this world, carrying all her burdens by herself? The thought made her chest tighten.

She glanced toward the double doors of the treatment room, where Anabella was still being monitored. The young woman had always been so strong, so determined.

But now, seeing her collapse like that, it was clear how fragile that strength truly was. It wasn’t fair for someone so kind, so hardworking, to bear so much without anyone to lean on.

Taking a deep breath, the manager resolved to do whatever it took to help Anabella, even if it meant stepping into unfamiliar territory.

She might not know Anabella’s family or her history, but she knew the woman herself—her dedication, her resilience, and her quiet kindness. That alone was enough to make the manager determined to stand by her side, no matter what came next.

The doctor gave the manager a reassuring smile as she delivered the news.

"It’s going to be fine," she said softly. "Anabella is stable, and her condition isn’t life-threatening. Stress can do a lot of harm, but with rest and proper care, she’ll recover. You can go in and see her now if you’d like. Just try to keep things calm. She needs peace, not pressure."

The manager nodded, relief washing over her. "Thank you, Doctor. I’ll go see her now."

As the doctor walked away, the manager took a steadying breath and stepped into Anabella’s room. The sight of her employee lying in the hospital bed stirred an unexpected pang of protectiveness in her chest. Anabella looked so small and fragile against the crisp white sheets, her pale face illuminated by the soft, sterile glow of the room’s overhead light.

"Anabella," the manager said gently as she approached. Her voice trembled slightly, betraying her unease.

Anabella’s eyes fluttered open, heavy with exhaustion but tinged with a faint smile at the sight of a familiar face. "Oh, you’re here," she murmured, her voice hoarse and weak.

"Of course, I’m here," the manager replied, pulling a chair closer to the bed. "How are you feeling?"

Anabella shrugged weakly, her expression tired but resigned. "Like I ran a marathon I didn’t sign up for. But I’ll live, I guess."

The manager chuckled lightly, though worry still lingered in her gaze. "That’s a good start." She hesitated, glancing at the chart hanging by the bed as if it held the answers she was struggling to find. "The doctor told me you need rest. Chronic stress isn’t something to take lightly, you know."

Anabella’s smile faded, and she turned her gaze to the ceiling. "I know. I just... I didn’t realize how bad it had gotten."

The room fell into a momentary silence. The manager fidgeted, torn between wanting to comfort Anabella and the awkward topic she knew she needed to address.

"They mentioned..." the manager began, her words hesitant. "They mentioned trying to contact your family. I didn’t know who to call. Do you want me to—"

"No," Anabella interrupted quickly, her voice firmer than before. Her eyes met the manager’s, and the vulnerability in them made the older woman pause. "It’s fine. There’s no one to call."

The manager frowned, concern deepening the lines on her face. "But surely, there’s someone? A friend? A relative? Anyone who could—"

"Please," Anabella said, her voice softer now, almost pleading. "I don’t want to talk about it."

The manager hesitated, feeling a pang of guilt for pushing. She nodded reluctantly. "Okay. We don’t have to talk about it. I just want you to know I’m here if you need anything."

Anabella’s expression softened, and she offered a faint smile. "Thank you. That means a lot."

The manager sat back in her chair, unsure of what else to say. The weight of the situation hung heavily between them, but she decided to let it be for now. Anabella needed rest, not questions.

The manager felt like she had suddenly found herself in a bind she could not get out of. She wanted to help Anabella, but there was a limit to what she could and could not do. Moreover, Anabella looked stubborn and the manager felt a little awkward asking Anabella if she wanted any help.