The Bride Widow
Chapter 130: Ch 130: A moment of resolve - Part 1

Chapter 130: Ch 130: A moment of resolve - Part 1

The manager shifted in her seat, her hands clasped tightly on her lap. The sterile silence of the hospital room pressed down on her, making her feel more and more out of place.

Anabella lay quietly in the bed, her eyes closed now, though the slight tension in her face suggested she wasn’t asleep. The manager glanced at the wall clock and decided it was time to leave.

"Well, Anabella," she began, her voice a little too cheerful in an effort to mask her discomfort, "I think I’ve taken up enough of your time. You need to rest, and I shouldn’t be in the way."

Anabella opened her eyes and gave her a small, polite smile. "Thank you for coming. And for everything else."

The manager stood and hesitated for a moment, unsure if there was more she should say.

But the truth was, she didn’t know how to navigate the heavy emotions in the room or the unspoken history Anabella seemed to carry. It wasn’t her place to pry, and she felt ill-equipped to offer meaningful comfort.

"Well, take care of yourself, okay? Don’t rush back to work. We’ll manage without you for a while," she said awkwardly.

Anabella nodded. "I will. Thanks again."

The manager gave a small wave before quickly exiting the room, relief washing over her as soon as the door closed behind her.

She didn’t mean to seem insensitive, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was intruding on something much larger than her role as Anabella’s boss allowed her to handle.

Left alone in the sterile hospital room, Anabella found herself enveloped in a strange and overwhelming silence. It wasn’t the kind of peace that brought comfort—it was oppressive, heavy with unspoken thoughts and lingering fears.

The soft hum of the machines, the faint beeping of monitors, and the occasional muffled footsteps in the hallway all seemed to echo louder in her mind than they should have.

She turned her head slightly to gaze out the small window. The sun was setting, casting a soft orange glow over the city skyline. On any other day, she might have found the view beautiful, even calming.

But now, it only served to remind her how detached she felt from the world outside. People were going about their lives—working, laughing, living—while she lay confined to this bed, her body betraying her in ways she hadn’t anticipated.

Her mind drifted to the bakery, to the warmth of the ovens and the comforting hum of her coworkers’ chatter.

She missed the routine, the simplicity of measuring ingredients and watching batter rise. It was a small joy in her otherwise chaotic life, and now even that had been taken from her.

As much as she hated to admit it, Anabella couldn’t shake the guilt gnawing at her.

She had always prided herself on being independent, on not needing anyone to fix her problems. And yet, here she was, reduced to relying on strangers to pick up the pieces. The thought was unbearable.

She shifted in bed, wincing as a dull ache spread through her body.

Chronic stress, the doctor had said. It wasn’t just exhaustion—it was years of suppressing her emotions, of bottling up her frustrations and pain, finally taking their toll.

But what choice had she had? Opening up meant burdening others, and she couldn’t bring herself to do that—not to her coworkers, not to Noah and Clair, and certainly not to her family.

Her family. The very thought made her stomach twist. The last time she had spoken to her mother, it had been a disaster.

A mess of accusations and blame that left Anabella feeling more alone than ever. She couldn’t call her father, either; his silence in the wake of everything had been deafening.

For a brief moment, Anabella allowed herself to think about Noah and Clair. The two of them had become her closest friends, her safe harbor in a storm she couldn’t seem to escape. She knew they cared about her deeply—sometimes too much, if Clair’s occasional overprotectiveness was any indication.

A small, bittersweet smile played on her lips as she thought of them. She could almost hear Clair’s voice, firm but loving, scolding her for pushing herself too hard. She could see Noah’s playful grin, the way he always tried to make her laugh, even when she felt like the world was crumbling around her.

The temptation to call them was strong. She could already imagine the relief in Clair’s voice, the way Noah would insist on coming over immediately, no matter how late it was. They wouldn’t judge her for being here; they wouldn’t make her feel weak.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? She didn’t want their pity, their concern. She didn’t want to be the one who constantly needed saving.

Anabella sighed deeply, the sound almost lost in the room’s emptiness. She turned her head back to stare at the ceiling, her thoughts spiraling into darker places. Was this how her life was going to be from now on? Always fighting, always struggling, always trying to prove that she was fine when she clearly wasn’t?

She hated feeling this way—so helpless, so out of control. But what could she do? Her life had become a series of choices that weren’t really choices at all. Staying in a loveless marriage, leaving it behind, trying to rebuild her life from scratch—it all felt like a losing game.

Her eyes began to sting, and she blinked rapidly to hold back the tears threatening to fall. Crying wouldn’t help. It never had.

As the minutes ticked by, Anabella forced herself to take a deep breath. She couldn’t let herself fall apart, not now. She had to be strong, even if it felt impossible.

Her fingers clenched the blanket tightly as she made a silent vow. She didn’t know how she was going to fix her life, but she would. Somehow, she would find a way to move forward. To be more than the broken woman lying in this hospital bed.

For now, though, she would rest. It was the only thing she could do.

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