The Princess and the Pauper (Arabella)

Chapter 1897

Serena had a sinking feeling in her gut, "My leg, it's not going to heal properly, is it? Right at the knee? | need to see."

"Don't look." Martin's voice was laced with compassion, "There's nothing to see right now, it's all bandaged up."

Tears streamed down Serena's cheeks as she fumbled with the blanket, her clumsy hands struggling to do what once was second

nature - hitching up her pant leg.

She was frantic and furious.

"Lethelp." Martin eventually said, slowly and reluctantly rolling up her pant legs to her knees.

Both knees were wrapped in white bandages, obscuring any detail, but Serena could feel the stiffness in her legs, especially the

left one encased in plaster. What in the world had happened?

"My leg." Serena lifted her tearful eyes to Martin, "Is it injured?"

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She remembered the moment she knelt in broken glass, repeatedly bowing her head in plea to Louisa.

Tiny shards of glass had embedded themselves deep into her knees.

The damage was done.

But what about her left leg? Why the plaster?

Martin's eyes reddened, "You just can't walk for now."

"What do you mean | can't walk?"

"The glass in your knee was deep, it reached the bone." Martin spoke with difficulty, "When you were crawling on the ground, the

glass dug even deeper into your flesh. They've removed it through surgery, but you'll need a wheelchair for now."

Serena felt like she'd been struck by lightning.

No wonder she felt excruciating pain all over, particularly in her knees, as she lay feverish in that basement, deliriously drinking

dirty water from a plastic basin.

Was that when the glass had buried itself even deeper?

"And there's more, the Collins family might have been a bit too rough when they hit you, one of your leg bones is fractured, hence

the plaster."

Serena's eyes widened.

"The doctors have set the bone back in place, now it needs tto heal about three months. But your knees will need around six

months to recover."

Perhaps fearing her despair, Martin quickly added, "After six months, you'll be able to walk. You'll just need another three months

of physical therapy."

Serena was beyond devastated.

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She was a thousand times, no, ten thousand times more shattered than mere collapse could convey.

This meant for the next half year, she'd be confined to a wheelchair, and even after that, she'd need another three months of

rehab to regain her former strength.

"Will I make a full recovery?" The tears spilled over as Serena asked, dreading the answer, "Can | dance ballet like before? Or will it

only be seventy or eighty percent of what it was?"

"With current medical treatments, you can expect to recover seventy to eighty percent."

Martin's words sent Serena into a torrent of sobs, her body shaking uncontrollably, unable to digest this devastating news.

Her hands, perhaps, she could accept not fully recovering, but her feet too, unable to dance as before?

"In nine months you'll walk normally, no one will be the wiser, but dancing won't be as graceful as it was. If it comes to that, you

could always choose not to dance."

Serena's weeping intensified. In high society, how could one simply not dance?