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

Chapter 7: The First Fever

Becky nodded quickly. "Right. Okay. What do we do first?"

Freen glanced at the clock. 1:47 AM.

"We call the pediatrician," she decided. "I don't care if it's the middle of the night. We're calling."

Becky didn't argue.

Freen grabbed her phone again, scrolling through their contacts until she found Dr. Ploy, their pediatrician.

She hit the call button.

The phone rang once.

Twice.

Then—

A sleepy but alert voice answered. "Hello?"

Freen didn't even wait for pleasantries.

"Dr. Ploy, it's Freen. Mon has a fever—38.5. What do we do?"

The doctor's tone immediately switched to professional mode.

"Alright, I need you both to stay calm," she said gently. "Is she still drinking milk?"

Freen looked at Becky, who had already started offering Mon a bottle.

Mon took it, but weakly.

"She's drinking," Becky said, "but not as much as usual."

"That's okay for now," Dr. Ploy reassured them. "The most important thing is that she stays hydrated. Keep offering her milk, even if she only takes a little at a time."

Freen nodded, gripping the phone tighter. "What about medicine? Should we give her something?"

"If her fever reaches 39°C or higher, you can give baby paracetamol," Dr. Ploy instructed. "But for now, let's try to bring it down naturally—cool compresses, light clothing, and lots of skin-to-skin contact."

Becky was already stripping off her sweater, pulling Mon gently against her chest.

"We got it," she murmured, her voice trembling slightly.

Freen swallowed hard.

"Should we bring her to the hospital?" she asked.

There was a slight pause.

"Not yet," Dr. Ploy said carefully. "If her fever gets higher, or if she starts refusing to eat completely, then yes, bring her in. But for now, monitor her closely and call me if anything changes."

Freen exhaled shakily. "Okay. Thank you, Doctor."

"Of course. You're both doing great. Call me anytime."

And then the call ended.

Freen turned back to Becky, who was gently rocking Mon against her skin, pressing kisses to her tiny head.

Freen sat down beside them, placing a hand on Becky's back, grounding both of them.

They weren't panicking.

Not anymore.

Now, they had a plan.

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2:30 AM – The Longest Night

They followed every instruction to the letter.

Becky kept Mon close against her chest, while Freen gently wiped her with a cool washcloth.

The dogs, sensing something was wrong, stayed unusually quiet, curled up near the bed like tiny guardians.

Time moved slowly.

Every few minutes, they would check her fever.

38.3°C.

38.1°C.

Freen exhaled in relief. "It's going down."

Becky kissed Mon's forehead. "You're so strong, baby."

Mon let out a soft, sleepy whimper.

Freen ran her fingers through Becky's hair, pressing a kiss to her temple. "And so is her Mama."

Becky sighed against her. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Freen pulled her closer. "Good thing you'll never have to find out."

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7:00 AM – The Light at the End of the Tunnel

By morning, Mon's fever had broken.

Her tiny body was cooler.

Her breathing, steadier.

And for the first time since the night started, she opened her eyes properly, looking up at her moms.

Freen's heart melted.

"Good morning, little fighter," she whispered, stroking Mon's cheek.

Mon let out a tiny, tired coo.

Becky sniffled, tears filling her eyes. "I was so scared."

Freen wrapped an arm around her, holding both of them close.

"Me too," she admitted. "But we got through it. Together."

Becky nodded, burying her face against Freen's shoulder.

Mon, sensing the moment, let out a tiny sneeze.

Freen and Becky gasped.

Then—

They laughed.

Exhausted, drained, but relieved.

Because this?

This was parenting.

And even though it scared them half to death sometimes...

They wouldn't trade it for anything.