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

1:47 AM – The End of Peace

The house was silent.

For the first time in days, Freen and Becky were actually asleep at the same time.

A miracle.

A once-in-a-lifetime event.

And then—

A wail.

Loud. Piercing. Absolutely furious.

Freen's eyes snapped open. Pure adrenaline.

Becky groaned, face buried in the pillow. "Nooo," she mumbled, voice thick with exhaustion. "I just fell asleep."

Freen blinked at the ceiling. "Did we dream that?"

Another wail.

Nope. Not a dream.

Freen exhaled, already sitting up. "I got it."

Becky reached for her wrist weakly. "No, wait. I think it's my turn."

Freen hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Becky sighed, dragging herself up, looking half-dead. "You handled the last cry session. I'll take this one."

Freen wasn't about to argue. She flopped back onto the bed, listening as Becky stumbled out of the room like a zombie on autopilot.

From the nursery, Mon's cries were escalating.

Freen heard Becky cooing softly. "Shh, baby. It's okay, Mama's here. What's wrong, hmm?"

A pause. Then—

"Oh, God."

Freen's stomach dropped.

She knew that tone.

"Freen," Becky called, voice horrified.

Freen groaned. "What happened?"

A beat.

Then—

"It's a poop situation."

Freen shot up. "Is it bad?"

"It's everywhere."

Freen winced.

She was afraid to ask.

---------

2:00 AM – The Great Poop Catastrophe

When Freen entered the nursery, she immediately regretted it.

Because Becky was not exaggerating.

It was everywhere.

On the crib. On Mon's pajamas. Somehow—on Becky.

Freen froze in the doorway. "...How?"

Becky shot her a look that said if you make a single joke, I will end you.

"Help," Becky deadpanned.

Freen burst out laughing.

"Freen!"

"Okay, okay!" Freen bit back a grin, grabbing the wipes. "Let's fix this."

Between the two of them, it took ten whole minutes to clean Mon, another five to clean Becky, and an eternity to scrub the crib.