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

Chapter 9: A Mama's Worry, A Mom's Strength

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8:05 AM – Breakfast and Worries

A nurse came in a few minutes later, bringing breakfast and some warm tea.

Becky barely touched hers.

Freen noticed.

"Eat," she said gently.

Becky shook her head. "Not hungry."

Freen frowned.

This wasn't just about food.

She knew Becky.

She knew that look in her eyes—the lingering fear.

Even though Mon was stable now, even though the worst was over—

Becky was still scared.

Freen understood.

She was scared too.

But one of them had to be stronger.

And right now?

Becky needed that more than anything.

Freen scooted closer, tucking a strand of hair behind Becky's ear.

"Hey," she whispered. "Talk to me."

Becky swallowed, her fingers tightening around her cup of tea.

"I just—" She exhaled. "What if we hadn't made it in time?"

Freen felt her chest tighten.

"But we did," she said softly.

"But what if we hadn't?" Becky's voice cracked. "What if next time—"

"Don't," Freen interrupted gently, squeezing her hand. "Don't go there, baby."

Becky's eyes filled with tears.

Freen hated seeing her like this.

She reached out, cupping Becky's face, forcing her to look at her.

"Mon is okay," she whispered. "She's here. She's safe. And we're going to make sure she stays that way."

Becky sniffled, nodding slowly.

Freen pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"I know it was scary," she admitted. "But we did everything right."

Becky let out a shaky breath.

Freen gave her a soft smile.

"And you, Rebecca Armstrong," she added, "are an amazing mom."

Becky let out a choked laugh.

"You're not so bad yourself, Sarocha Chankimha."

Freen smirked.

"I know," she teased.

And just like that, the tension lifted.

Just a little.

But enough.

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10:15 AM – A Small Victory

Hours passed.

Doctors came in, checking Mon's vitals, adjusting her IV, reassuring them that everything was progressing well.

Becky had finally eaten something.

Freen had managed to convince her to wash her face.

Mon had even opened her eyes for a few minutes, looking up at them with that tiny, sleepy stare that always made Freen's heart melt.

A small, fragile moment of peace.

Freen would take it.

They both would.

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3:24 PM – Discharge Papers

By afternoon, Mon's fever had finally dropped to a safer level.

The doctors decided it was okay for her to go home—with instructions.

Lots of them.

"Plenty of rest, fluids, and keep an eye out for any changes," Dr. Ploy reminded them. "Her immune system is still weak, so she's going to need extra care for the next few days."

Freen and Becky nodded in unison.

"We've got it," Becky promised.

Freen squeezed Becky's hand, nodding as well.

Mon was going home.

That was all that mattered.

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6:02 PM – Finally Home

The moment they stepped into the house, the dogs went wild.

Fluffy, BonBon, and Boba circled around them, tails wagging, noses sniffing curiously at Mon, who was still fast asleep in Becky's arms.

"Shhh," Freen whispered, kneeling down to pet them. "She just got home, boys. Give her some space."

BonBon whined.

Fluffy tilted his head.

Boba just flopped onto the floor, waiting impatiently.

Becky let out a tired chuckle.

Freen reached out, rubbing her back.

"Let's get you both in bed," she murmured.

Becky nodded.

And so, together, they settled into the nursery.

Freen watched as Becky gently placed Mon in her crib, adjusting her blanket, making sure she was warm but not too warm.

They both just stood there for a moment, watching her.

"She looks so small," Becky whispered.

Freen wrapped an arm around her waist.

"She's going to be okay," Freen promised. "We're going to make sure of it."

Becky leaned into her, letting out a soft breath.

And as they stood there, watching over their daughter, feeling the weight of the last twenty-four hours settle in—

Freen knew.

No matter what—

No matter how many sleepless nights or hospital runs or scary moments came their way—

They would get through it.

Together.