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

Mon was barely two months old, and yet, she had already become the center of their universe.

Freen had thought she understood love before. She had loved Becky with everything in her. She had loved their dogs like they were their children. But this? This was something else entirely.

She watched in awe as Mon's tiny fingers wrapped around hers, her soft breaths barely audible over the sound of the white noise machine humming in the nursery. It was past midnight, but Freen was wide awake, holding her daughter close as if she were the most fragile, precious thing in the world.

And she was.

A sleepy voice broke through the quiet.

"Baby?" Becky's voice was thick with exhaustion, but when she peeked into the nursery, a soft smile tugged at her lips. "You're still up?"

Freen looked up, guilty but unrepentant. "She was fussy, so I thought I'd rock her for a bit."

Becky padded across the room in her oversized pajama shirt—the one that used to belong to Freen but had long since become hers. She pressed a kiss to Freen's temple before running a gentle hand over Mon's fine, dark hair.

"You know, she's not going to disappear if you put her down," Becky teased, voice laced with amusement.

Freen sighed, reluctantly placing Mon back into her crib, her tiny body snug in her swaddle. The baby stirred slightly, but when Becky reached over and gently patted her belly, she settled once more.

Freen marveled at how effortless Becky made it all seem.

"She's already growing so fast," Freen murmured as they stepped out of the nursery, leaving the door slightly ajar. "I swear she was just born yesterday."

Becky chuckled as they made their way back to their bedroom. "You're acting like she's heading off to college tomorrow."

Freen groaned dramatically. "At this rate, she might as well be."

Becky laughed, but as they climbed into bed, her smile softened into something more thoughtful. "She's growing, yeah. But so are we."

Freen turned to her, propping herself up on one elbow. "Yeah?"

Becky nodded. "I mean, look at us. We went from just being us, to dog moms, to parents. And now we're running on, what? Three hours of sleep?"

Freen snorted. "Two and a half, if we're being honest."

Becky grinned. "And yet, somehow, I love you even more than I did before."

Freen felt something tighten in her chest—something warm, something overwhelming. She reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Becky's ear before cupping her cheek.

"Good," Freen murmured, voice suddenly serious. "Because I don't think I could do this without you."

Becky leaned into her touch, eyes shining in the dim light. "You don't have to."

And just like that, Freen felt at peace.

Mon stirred in the nursery, and like clockwork, they both turned their heads toward the door, waiting.

The baby let out a small whimper, followed by a tiny, almost indignant cry.

Becky sighed. "I got her."

Freen was already halfway out of bed. "No way, I got her."

Becky gave her a look. "Freen, you've been up for hours—"

Freen kissed her quickly before dashing out of the room. "You can have her at the 4 AM shift, babe!" she called over her shoulder.

Becky flopped back onto the bed, groaning. "You're impossible."

But even as she closed her eyes, exhaustion creeping in, she knew the truth.

She wouldn't trade this life for anything.

Not for all the sleep in the world.

Not for anything.