The day started like any other for Isabella Thomas. Nearing sixty, she had been retired for years. Throughout her life, she worked as a nanny or a childminder, always surrounded by children. Now, after retirement, her days were quiet... peaceful but undeniably boring.
A few weeks ago, her peaceful world was shaken when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. The diagnosis hit her hard, not just physically but emotionally. Though the NHS assured her that all diagnostic tests, treatment, surgery, chemotherapy, radiotherapy, and follow-ups would be covered, the waiting was excruciating. She had already waited almost a month just to receive her mammogram, ultrasound, and biopsy results after her GP’s referral. Now, she faced another uncertain wait for surgery and chemotherapy.
Though the NHS promised treatment within forty days, other patients warned her that delays often stretched past two months, citing a shortage of specialists and the overwhelming number of cases. Her only son, who rushed from London upon hearing her diagnosis, pleaded with her to consider private treatment. But she refused. She already knew from online forums that private treatment would cost more than 100,000 pounds, money they simply didn’t have. Her son worked a mid-level government job, barely managing London expenses. Selling her modest house wouldn’t even cover the full cost.
So, she had sent her son back to London, telling him not to worry. She would wait for the NHS and whatever would come.
Her neighbors, somehow learning of her condition, occasionally dropped by to lift her spirits. Today, as she was preparing her lunch, she heard a knock on the door. Expecting a neighbor, she walked to the door, forgot the steel turner in hand.
But when she opened it, she froze.
A beautiful young woman stood at her doorstep, smiling brightly.
"Lady Langford... No... Are you... Eleanor?" she asked, her voice trembling with disbelief.
The young woman nodded and smiled warmly. "It’s been a long time, Aunt Bella."
Isabella’s heart leapt, and memories of a small girl she once raised came flooding back. The steel turner slipped from her hand, landing on the carpet with a dull thud as tears welled in her eyes.
Eleanor stepped forward and embraced her. In that moment, words were unnecessary. Though Eleanor was once only her duty, Isabella had loved her like her own. Despite being a paid nanny, the bond they shared had always been real. Eleanor’s eyes moistened too.
Being a werewolf only intensified emotional moments like these. Joy, grief, love... everything hit deeper, stronger, rawer.
Behind Eleanor, Teresa quietly stepped into the house, gently closing the door so as not to disturb the reunion.
Finally, after what felt like a long embrace, they pulled away. Isabella wiped her eyes and asked, "I haven’t seen you in years. How did you find me here?"
Eleanor grinned. "You used to tell me stories about your neighborhood... the Edgbaston Stadium, the River Rea. It wasn’t hard to trace you."
Isabella blinked in surprise. "You remembered all that? You were just a child back then!"
Eleanor just smiled, not explaining that her awakening as a werewolf had sharpened memories once buried deep.
Then Isabella noticed Teresa, standing politely behind Eleanor. She immediately shifted into host mode. "Oh! You brought a guest with you. Please, sit on the sofa. I’ll make some refreshments."
Eleanor waved her off gently. "You don’t have to do that. This is Teresa, my secretary and friend."
Teresa stepped forward, offering a polite greeting. "You might not remember, but I met you once when I was still in primary school."
Isabella nodded, beginning to recall a young girl with pigtails visiting with Eleanor.
"Please sit, Aunt Bella," Eleanor said, gently guiding her to the sofa. "We need to talk. Teresa, could you turn off the stove? We’ll eat together later at a restaurant."
Teresa gave a nod and headed to the kitchen area.
Once seated, Eleanor looked into Isabella’s eyes. "Aunt Bella, I already know about your diagnosis... about the NHS delays, your financial situation, and your son. I came to take you with me. You’ll get treatment in Manchester."
Isabella gasped. "No, no. The NHS is providing everything. The cancer is in its early stage. I’ll be fine. And your step-family... they’ll be furious if you spend money on me like this."
Eleanor laughed softly. "You still think I’m with the Whitmore family?"



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