When the Story Continues (Sequel to When the Script Changes)

Chapter 6: The Art of Parenting (And Failing Gracefully)

7:32 AM – Operation: Get Through the Morning

The kitchen was chaos.

Not the kind of chaos Freen and Becky used to know—the kind where the dogs were barking at a delivery guy, or Becky was burning toast because she got distracted singing along to a song.

No, this was new-parent chaos.

Which was a whole different level.

Freen was half-awake, wearing pajama shorts and a hoodie that was definitely not hers (it was Becky's, but honestly, at this point, all their clothes belonged to each other). She stood in front of the coffee machine like it was the only thing keeping her alive.

Becky, on the other hand, had Mon strapped to her chest in a baby carrier, bouncing slightly on her feet while flipping through her phone.

BonBon, Boba, and Fluffy were circling her feet, eyes locked on the toast she was holding.

Freen squinted at her. "Are you seriously eating breakfast standing up?"

Becky looked up. "If I sit down, I might fall asleep. I gotta keep moving."

Freen nodded solemnly. "Respect."

Becky reached over, stealing Freen's coffee.

Freen gasped. "Babe!"

"You love me," Becky said, taking a sip.

Freen crossed her arms. "That's not the point."

Becky grinned, handing it back. "Fine. You can have it back. But I get the first sip tomorrow."

Freen squinted at her. "That's not how this works—"

Before she could argue further, Mon let out a tiny whimper.

Becky immediately started swaying back and forth. "Shhh, baby. We got you."

Freen softened.

There was something about watching Becky with Mon that did something to her chest—made it tight and warm at the same time.

"Here," Freen murmured, stepping forward. "Let me hold her while you eat properly."

Becky sighed dramatically. "Oh, so now you care about my nutrition?"

Freen rolled her eyes, taking Mon into her arms. "Babe, if I don't take care of you, who will?"

Becky gave her a look. "I can take care of myself."

Freen raised an eyebrow, gesturing toward the toast crumbs on her pajama pants.

Becky looked down. Then back up.

"...Okay, you have a point."

Freen smirked. "I usually do."

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8:45 AM – The Great Nap Debate

They had a system.

A very delicate, very precise system of taking turns so that one of them could sleep while the other took care of Mon.

In theory, it was brilliant.

In practice?

Not so much.