Page 16 of Grumpy Orc Daddy

I press send, feeling both relief and anxiety. Sharing my concerns with Janta somehow makes them more real, yet less daunting. Almost immediately, my phone buzzes with his reply.

Thanks for the update, Rayna. Keep me posted on how she's doing. I'll make sure my morning is clear so I can come with you to the doctor if needed. Let me know if there’s anything I can do tonight.

I'm comforted by his quick response and the knowledge that he's there, ready to support us. "It's probably just a bug," I whisper to myself, echoing the reassurance I hope to believe. I look down at Lily, sleeping fitfully in my arms, her little forehead still radiating heat.

The evening stretches on, each minute tinged with worry. I lay Lily down gently in her crib, tucking her in with her favorite blanket and keeping the room cool and comfortable. I check on her every half hour, my dinner forgotten on the table, cold and untouched.

Despite my attempts to remain composed, my mind races with all the things that could be wrong. “It’s probably just a cold,” I remind myself, trying to relax as I navigate through this unfamiliar territory. But I can’t seem to silence my mind. What if I miss some crucial symptom in my inexperience?

I decide not to wait until morning, clutching my phone tightly, my heart pounding as I scroll through my contacts to find Janta's number. With each passing moment, Lily's quiet whimpers and the warm feel of her forehead against my cheek fuel my growing panic. I press the call button, my fingers trembling slightly.

"Is she okay?" Janta’s demanding and worried tone matches my internal turmoil.

"I tried to wait it out, but she’s not getting any better and I think we need to do something," I stammer, my voice shaking.

There's a brief pause, and then Janta's tone shifts to one of complete attention and concern. "Okay, Rayna, it’s going to be alright. Tell me exactly what’s happening. How high is the fever now?"

I glance at the digital readout of the thermometer again. "It’s still around 100.4, but she's so lethargic and just... not right. I’m terrified, Janta."

"I understand, and you’re doing great handling this," Janta reassures me. "I’m leaving now, and I’ll be there as quickly as I can. We’ll go to Urgent Care together. Just keep her comfortable and try to stay calm for her."

Hearing his calm voice helps me breathe a little easier. "Okay, thank you, Janta. Please hurry."

“I’m on my way, Rayna. Hang in there. We’re in this together.”

As I end the call, a wave of relief washes over me. Knowing Janta is on his way, that I’m not alone in this, makes all the difference. I sit down on the couch, cradling Lily gently, murmuring soothing words to her.

I try to steady my breathing, focusing on being calm for her sake, as we wait for Janta’s arrival. Knowing help is on the way and that I’m not facing this frightening situation alone eases some of the tension gripping my chest.

Janta arrives faster than I expected, his car pulling up with a swift urgency that underscores the seriousness of the moment. He doesn't waste any time. As soon as he gets out of the car, he's all business, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the turmoil I feel inside.

"Let's get her to the hospital," he says, taking charge as he gently helps me secure Lily into her car seat. His presence is a tangible relief, grounding me when I feel like I might spiral into panic again.

The drive to the hospital is tense. The roads seem unusually busy, every red light a frustrating delay, but Janta's steady presence keeps me anchored. He doesn’t say much, but his occasional reassuring glances tell me everything I need to know—we're in this together, and we're doing everything we can for Lily.

We arrive at the emergency room, and the sight of the hospital, usually so daunting, is now a beacon of hope. Janta helps me unload Lily and we hurry inside. The waiting room is crowded, but it seems our urgency is palpable. The reception staff quickly ushers us through the initial paperwork and into a waiting area for a pediatrician.

Sitting beside Janta in the sterile, humming atmosphere of the hospital waiting room, I feel a connection blossoming between us, driven by our shared worry for Lily. The wait is agonizing. Every cough and cry from Lily makes my heart jump, but Janta’s hand finds mine, squeezing gently.

"She'll be okay," he whispers, and I nod, wanting so badly to believe him. I catch him glancing toward the doors where medical staff come and go, his eyes reflecting the same anxiety gnawing at me.

“Do you remember when Lily first smiled at us?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood.

Janta’s face softens into a smile, the tension easing slightly. “Yeah, it was like she knew exactly how much we needed that smile at that moment.”

“And her little giggles, even in her sleep. It’s like she’s always been a part of us,” I add, chuckling softly.

“Absolutely, she’s been the light of my world since we got the test results,” he agrees, his laughter mixing with mine, providing a temporary escape from our worries.

We fall into a comfortable silence, filled with shared memories. Janta then turns to me, his expression growing tender.

“I’m glad we’re in this together,” he murmurs.

“Me too,” I reply, looking away as tears fill my eyes.

We’re called back for Lily to be seen and we stand up together, a unit solidified by our joint concern and newly shared vulnerabilities. Our hands brush as Janta grabs her carrier, sending a jolt through me.

This ordeal has not only revealed the depth of our mutual concern for our daughter, but also opened up a new chapter in our relationship, promising new depths and, perhaps, new beginnings.