The Bride Widow
Chapter 166: Small ways to make someone feel- Part 1

Chapter 166: 166: Small ways to make someone feel- Part 1

Anabella sat curled up on her couch, the soft hum of the heater the only sound in her small apartment.

The medicine she’d taken was beginning to kick in, pulling her into a foggy haze. Just as her eyelids started to droop, her phone buzzed on the coffee table, jolting her slightly. She reached for it and frowned at the message from an unknown number:

"Open the door. We have something important to discuss."

Her heart skipped a beat. The vagueness of the message made her uneasy. She didn’t recognize the number, and the demand seemed far from friendly.

She hesitated, her thumb hovering over the screen, debating whether to reply. Instead, she decided to ignore it. Whoever it was would go away if she didn’t respond.

A few minutes later, a loud banging on her door shattered the silence. Anabella sat up straight, her pulse quickening. She tried to ignore it, but the banging grew more persistent.

Then, she heard it—a voice she hadn’t heard in a while but recognized instantly. Jackson. His tone was impatient, almost furious, as he called out her name, demanding she open the door.

Her breath caught in her throat. What was he doing here? And how had he found her new place? Anabella’s instincts screamed at her to keep the door shut. She was too drained, too vulnerable to deal with Jackson, especially in his current state.

The banging intensified, each thud against the door matching the rapid thump of her heart.

Anabella reached for her phone again, her fingers trembling. She needed help.

The idea of calling the police had always been a last resort, something she’d hoped never to do, but she saw no other option. As she dialed, she whispered a quick prayer that they would arrive before Jackson did something rash.

The operator answered, and Anabella tried to keep her voice steady. "There’s someone banging on my door," she said, glancing toward the entryway, "and he won’t leave. His name is Jackson. Please, send someone quickly."

The operator assured her that help was on the way, and Anabella hung up, clutching the phone tightly. Her heart pounded as she fought the pull of the medicine, willing herself to stay alert.

Outside, Jackson’s frustration boiled over. He paced in front of the door, his anger barely contained.

He had spent so much time tracking Anabella down, determined to have this conversation, and now she wasn’t even answering the door or picking up his calls. His fist clenched, and he glared at the door, as if willing it to open through sheer force of will.

Jackson leaned in close, his voice low but sharp, "Anabella, open the damn door. We need to talk."

But there was no response, only the muted sounds of the city outside. He gritted his teeth, his patience thinning. He wasn’t used to being ignored, especially not by Anabella.

She had always been the one he could control, the one who would eventually cave. But now, there was only silence, and it was driving him mad.

Inside, Anabella tried to steady her breathing. She knew Jackson well enough to understand that his persistence wouldn’t wane easily.

She felt a pang of guilt at having to involve the police, but she reminded herself that it was necessary. She had to protect herself.

Minutes stretched like hours as she waited, the tension in the air palpable. Anabella’s mind raced with memories of past encounters with Jackson, his manipulative words, and the way he always managed to twist situations to his advantage.

But this time, she wasn’t alone. Help was on the way.

Outside, Jackson was growing more erratic. He kicked the door once, a loud bang echoing through the hallway. His frustration turned into a low growl.

"I’m not leaving until we talk, Anabella!" he yelled, his voice carrying through the thin walls of the apartment complex.

The sound of sirens in the distance made Jackson pause. His ears perked up, and his eyes narrowed. The realization hit him—Anabella had called the police. A wave of anger and betrayal washed over him, but he knew better than to stick around. He couldn’t afford another run-in with the law.

With one last furious glare at the door, Jackson turned on his heel and fled down the hallway, disappearing just before the blue and red lights reflected off the walls.

Anabella heard the sirens grow louder, and a moment later, there was a knock at her door.

This time, it was the police. She exhaled deeply, her body trembling from the adrenaline rush. Slowly, she made her way to the door and opened it, relief washing over her at the sight of the officers.

"He’s gone," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But he was here."

One officer nodded, taking notes, while the other reassured her. "We’ll patrol the area and make sure he doesn’t come back. Do you want to press charges?"

Anabella hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. "I just want him to leave me alone."

The officer gave her a sympathetic look. "We’ll do what we can to ensure that. If he comes back, don’t hesitate to call us."

Anabella nodded, thanking them quietly as they left to patrol the area. She closed the door behind them, leaning against it as exhaustion hit her like a wave. She felt the weight of everything, from the encounter with Jackson to the overwhelming fear that had gripped her.

Slowly, she slid to the floor, her head resting against the door. The tears came unbidden, a mixture of relief and lingering terror.

For now, she was safe, but the shadows of the past still loomed large. Anabella knew she needed to stay strong, but at that moment, all she could do was let herself feel the vulnerability she had tried so hard to suppress.

That should have been the end of it all, but the harassment started from that day, and in a way, even Anabella had not expected it to.