Chapter 150 Struck Down by Illness
On the subway home, Arabella's mind wandered in a daze, lost and disoriented.
Countless childhood scenes flashed through her mind like a montage...
The little girl who waited by the roadside every day, eyes full of longing.
The child who cried for her mommy, begging for her to come back, even murmuring "Mommy, please come home" in her sleep.
The teenage girl who didn't understand what a period was, stumbling home with blood running down her legs.
The girl cornered by a group of classmates who mocked her, calling her a "pathetic little orphan."
...So many memories.
Throughout that lonely, bullied childhood and adolescence, she had never stopped wanting her mother to return, to stand up for her, to keep her warm.
But day after day of hope and waiting had only brought deeper disappointment and pain.
Until finally she stopped hoping and learned to be strong on her own.
All those years of suffering and pain had become part of her very being, and she had completely accepted the fact that she had no mother.
So why was she suddenly appearing now?
She wasn't dead—she was alive and well. What reason could possibly have made her abandon her own flesh and blood so thoroughly and callously?
If Arabella hadn't become a mother herself, she might not have understood the depth of that blood connection.
It was precisely because she'd had children, become a mother, that she understood how cruel the pain of separation could be.
Thinking of Isabella clinging to her shoulder, reluctantly clutching at her clothes and hair, her heart was breaking—so how could her own mother have borne to abandon her to elderly, sickly grandparents without caring whether she lived or died?
Tears had somehow soaked her cheeks. When she returned to the apartment, she still couldn't muster any energy, feeling sick all over—though she couldn't tell if it was physical or emotional.
Acting on pure instinct, she climbed to the loft, collapsed onto the bed fully clothed, and buried herself under the covers, falling into a restless sleep...
When her phone kept buzzing, Arabella was still dreaming.
In her dream, she had returned to childhood, holding hands with a little girl as they sat by the roadside watching the sunset, watching the passing cars.
The little girl called her "Mommy," and she said she wasn't a mommy—she was waiting for her own mommy too.
Then in the dream, she was also dreaming—dreaming that someone knocked on the door. She woke from sleep, opened the door, and saw that her mother had come home!
"Mom... Mom!" She suddenly cried out, sitting bolt upright. Her eyes opened to see the furniture around her, and she realized it had been a nightmare...
But the knocking was real.
"Arabella! Are you in there? Arabella!"
Recognizing Ella's voice, she quickly responded, "Yes—"
When she tried to speak, she discovered her voice was hoarse and broken, barely coherent.
Her whole body ached, her head heavy and her legs weak. She forced herself out of bed, nearly stumbling down the stairs.
When she finally staggered to the door and opened it, she looked at Ella's anxious face in confusion. "What... what's wrong?"
Seeing her standing there safely, Ella immediately relaxed. "I should be asking you what's wrong. You didn't answer your phone, didn't reply to messages, and you didn't respond when I knocked for ages... I thought something had happened to you. I even called Manuel."
Arabella looked confused. "I... I wasn't feeling well, so I slept for a while..."
"Slept for a while? Do you know what time it is?"
What time was it?
Arabella dizzily walked back to the small living room and looked out the window—it was already dark outside!
"Are you sick? You look awful." Ella stared at her, frowning.
Just then, another phone buzzed in the room. Arabella looked around, remembering her phone was vibrating in her purse.
She went over and pulled out her phone—sure enough, it was Manuel calling.
"Hello, Manuel..."
"Arabella, where did you go? Ms. Martinez said she couldn't reach you," Manuel asked with concern.
"I was sleeping at home, my phone was in my purse and I didn't hear it..."
She explained awkwardly. When Manuel said he was on his way over, she quickly declined, "No need, I'm fine. Ella's here, don't come."
Manuel wasn't reassured. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine... I just got disoriented from sleeping too much."
Manuel knew she had gone to see the children today and guessed she might be in a bad mood. He really wanted to come check on her.
But since she kept refusing, Manuel couldn't insist. He could only tell her to contact him if she needed anything and gave up his plan to visit.
After hanging up, Ella handed her a cup of hot water. "When I couldn't reach you, I thought you'd been dragged back into house arrest."
Arabella drank the hot water, which soothed her throat somewhat, but her head still ached terribly.
She touched her forehead and felt slightly feverish.
"I did go visit the children and ran into him... but he didn't give me too much trouble—" she said weakly.
"Then what's wrong with you?" Ella could tell she wasn't just physically unwell—something was weighing on her mind too.
Arabella sat down on the sofa, thinking of Jenny's phone call and the dreams she'd just had. Her mood indeed became depressed and agitated again.
Seeing her dazed state and lack of energy to even speak, Ella sighed and didn't press further. "It's almost seven o'clock. What are you having for dinner?"
"I'm not hungry yet. I'll just make some noodles when I feel like eating..." After answering, she looked at Ella and forced a smile. "I'm fine, go home and spend time with your daughter."
Ella had originally come to discuss work, but seeing Arabella's condition, she changed her mind. She nodded. "Then rest well, and if you really don't feel good, go see a doctor. Don't try to tough it out."
"Okay, I know."
After seeing Ella off, Arabella curled up on the sofa again.
Looking at her phone, she discovered seven or eight missed calls. Besides Ella and Manuel, there were also two missed calls from Jenny...
Her confused, aching brain tensed up again when she saw Jenny's name.
Her finger hovered over the screen as she struggled internally—should she call back or not?
If she called back, she might learn more information about that woman.
She instinctively felt repulsed and resistant.
But if she didn't call back, something deep inside seemed to be pulling at her, like unwillingness, or perhaps some kind of expectation.
After hesitating and struggling for a while, she thought about Jenny's care and concern for her. Even just to acknowledge the woman's kindness, she should call back.
So she returned the call.
Holding the phone to her ear, she pulled her pajamas tighter and leaned weakly against the sofa, her muscles aching and powerless.
She was definitely sick, but her breasts weren't clogged, so it wasn't mastitis.
It might be a cold from the recent temperature drop, or from sitting by the lake in the cold wind today, or possibly her depressed emotional state affecting her physically.
The phone rang for a while before someone answered, and Jenny's loud voice immediately came through, "Arabella! I thought you didn't want to hear about your mother and were deliberately not taking my calls..."