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

Leaving was harder than Mon expected.

She had never had trouble going back to college before. She loved her studies, her independence, her life with Sam. But this time, it felt different.

This time, she was leaving Freen.

Her pregnant mother, who was carrying her little sister.

And the idea of missing even one moment of it? It felt awful.

Mon stood by the front door, suitcase ready, but she didn't move. Freen and Becky stood on either side of her, Sam just behind, waiting patiently.

"I..." Mon swallowed. "I don't want to go."

Freen sighed and pulled her into a hug.

"You have to go, baby. You've worked too hard to stop now and this is your last year."

Mon bit her lip. "But you're pregnant. What if something happens? What if you need me?"

Becky laughed softly, squeezing Mon's shoulder. "You'll be back before you know it. And trust me, if Freen needs anything, she won't hesitate to boss me around."

Freen smirked. "Exactly."

Sam, who had been silent this whole time, finally stepped forward, wrapping an arm around Mon's waist.

"I'll make sure she calls every day," Sam promised, looking at Becky and Freen. "I'll drag her to the car and bring her here if she tries to skip a visit."

Freen chuckled. "You really are perfect for her."

Mon sighed, leaning into Sam's warmth. "I just... I don't want to miss anything."

Freen smiled and reached for Mon's hand, placing it gently on her stomach.

Mon's heart swelled.

"Hey, little sis," she whispered, rubbing slow circles over Freen's stomach. "I can't wait to meet you."

And then—

The baby kicked.

Mon gasped.

Freen laughed. "She already loves you."

Mon grinned, her heart swelling with love.

"I love her more."

--------

Weeks passed.

Then months.

Mon called every day, sometimes twice a day, checking in on Freen, forcing her to rest, making sure Becky was taking care of her.

And Sam?

Sam never complained when Mon spent hours talking about baby clothes, baby names, baby everything.

Sam just listened, a small smile on her lips, eyes soft.

And then—

One evening, as Mon sat in her dorm, working on an assignment, her phone rang.

Mama.

Mon froze.

This was it.

She picked up so fast she nearly dropped the phone.

"IT'S TIME!" Becky screamed.

Mon screamed back.

Then she and Sam bolted to the car, their college just thirty-minute drive away from home.

------------

The house was a mess when they arrived.

Becky was running around like a headless chicken, throwing things into a hospital bag, forgetting everything important.

Mon? Panicked.

Sam? Weirdly calm.

And Freen?

The only one acting normal.

"Babe, just breathe—" Becky stammered, fumbling with her phone.

"I KNOW HOW TO BREATHE, REBECCA!" Freen snapped, gripping Becky's hand way too tightly. "GET ME TO THE HOSPITAL BEFORE I KILL YOU!"

Mon, wide-eyed, whispered, "Oh my god, I think she means it."

Becky yelped. "GET IN THE CAR!"

----------

Hours.

Hours of waiting, pain, and absolute chaos.

At one point, Becky nearly passed out, and Mon would never let her live that down.

But finally—

She was here.

Pilantita.

Tiny. Perfect. Loved beyond words.

Mon stood at the foot of the bed, staring.

Her little sister had Freen's nose. Becky's soft lips. The tiniest fingers, curled around Freen's.

And the softest, most delicate cry.

Becky? Completely broken. Tears streamed down her face as she gently cradled Freen and their newborn baby.

"She's beautiful," Becky whispered, voice cracking. "Just like you."

Freen, exhausted but glowing, smiled sleepily. "I think we did good."

Becky kissed her forehead. "We did amazing."

Sam's arms wrapped around Mon, a whisper in her ear promising that she would always protect Pin—just as she had always protected Mon. 

Mon wiped at her own tears.

"She's perfect," she whispered. "I love her already."

Then, she turned her head sideways, her face inches from Sam's ear, and whispered, "I love you more just for saying this." 

Then she kissed her.

Soft. Warm. Like forever.