The Bride Widow
Chapter 154: Ch 154: Heavy Feeling - Part 1

Chapter 154: Ch 154: Heavy Feeling - Part 1

The morning at the bakery started off quietly, with the familiar hum of the ovens and the occasional chime of the doorbell. Anabella was grateful for the routine, for the way her hands instinctively moved to knead dough or arrange pastries.

Yet, as customers filtered in, she became painfully aware of the way their gazes lingered on her. Whispered conversations and furtive glances became impossible to ignore.

Her heart raced as she focused on her work, but the weight of their stares pressed heavily on her shoulders. Each polite inquiry from a customer felt like it was laced with hidden questions, each smile like an invitation to ask something invasive.

"Hey," her manager’s voice cut through the haze of her anxiety. The older woman stood near the counter, her gaze sharp as she surveyed the room. "Don’t worry about them. Just focus on your tasks. I’ll handle the front for now."

Relief flooded Anabella, and she nodded. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

The manager nodded briskly and stepped forward to intercept a customer who looked like they were about to approach Anabella. Grateful as she was, the tension didn’t leave her. She felt like a cornered animal, every sense on high alert.

By midmorning, the pressure became too much. Anabella excused herself under the guise of needing a short break. Her manager didn’t question it, simply waving her off with a sympathetic glance.

Anabella stepped outside, the fresh air hitting her like a balm. She wandered aimlessly, her mind cluttered with thoughts and her chest tight. The cool breeze carried the faint scent of autumn, and for a fleeting moment, she felt at ease. But her peace was short-lived.

"Anabella?"

The sound of her name made her freeze. She turned to see a small group of people approaching her. They didn’t look familiar, but their expressions were intent, their gazes piercing.

"We just want to ask you a few questions," one of them said, stepping closer.

Anabella instinctively took a step back, her heart pounding. "I’m sorry, I—"

"Please, just a moment of your time," another interrupted, his tone overly insistent.

"I’m really not comfortable—" she tried again, but the group didn’t seem to care. They closed in on her, their movements cutting off any path of escape.

"What happened with your husband?" one of them demanded. "Is it true about the divorce?"

"Are the rumors about Clair and Noah true?" another chimed in, their words slicing through her like a knife.

Anabella’s breaths came in short gasps as panic set in. She turned to run, but a hand grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks. "Let me go!" she cried, her voice trembling.

"We just want to talk," the person holding her insisted, their grip tightening.

"Please!" she pleaded, trying to twist free, but another hand caught her other arm.

Fear surged through her as she realized she was surrounded. The noise of the street seemed to fade, replaced by the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears. She felt like she was drowning, unable to break free from their grasp.

"Come with us," someone said, their tone demanding.

"No!" Anabella screamed, struggling harder, her vision blurring with tears.

The crowd around her only seemed to grow, their questions and accusations melding into a cacophony of noise. Anabella felt trapped, her chest tightening as if the world was closing in on her. She barely registered the sound of a voice cutting through the chaos, firm and authoritative.

"Let her go!"

The grip on her arms loosened, and she stumbled back, barely catching herself. She looked up to see a tall figure stepping between her and the crowd, their stance protective and commanding. It was her manager, followed by a couple of other bakery staff.

"She said no," the manager snapped, her glare enough to make the crowd hesitate.

"This doesn’t concern you," someone argued weakly.

"It does when you’re harassing my employee," the manager shot back. "If you don’t leave now, I’ll call the authorities."

The group exchanged uncertain glances before slowly dispersing, grumbling under their breaths.

Anabella’s legs felt like jelly, and she sank onto a nearby bench, her head in her hands. Her manager knelt beside her, her expression softening.

"Are you okay?" she asked gently.

Anabella nodded weakly, though her body still trembled. "I—I just wanted some air."

"I know," the manager said, her voice calm. "You don’t have to explain. Let’s get you back inside."

With her manager’s help, Anabella stood and allowed herself to be guided back to the bakery. The walk felt longer than it should have, her mind replaying the scene over and over. By the time they stepped through the door, Anabella felt utterly drained.

"Take the rest of the day off," the manager urged once they were inside. "I’ll cover for you."

"But—" Anabella began to protest.

"No buts," the manager said firmly. "You’ve been through enough. Go home and rest."

Anabella hesitated, but eventually nodded. She thanked her manager quietly before gathering her things and heading home, her steps heavy with exhaustion and unease.

Anabella gathered her belongings from the bakery, her hands trembling slightly as she stuffed them into her bag.

The events of the day had left her feeling raw, her nerves frayed to the point where even the thought of going home felt overwhelming.

Her manager had been kind enough to insist she take the rest of the day off, but the idea of heading straight to her empty apartment only made her stomach churn.

Stepping out onto the street, she decided to take a small walk to clear her mind before heading home.

The crisp air of the late afternoon helped, if only a little. She followed no particular path, letting her feet guide her along the quieter streets of town.

But as she walked, an uneasy feeling began to settle in her chest. At first, it was subtle—the sensation of being watched. She dismissed it, chalking it up to her overactive imagination. After all, the events of the day had put her on edge.

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