Chapter 3 - Noah’s Fever
Noah woke before dawn on the third day.
His cheeks were warm, and his small body trembled beneath his pajamas. Lauren checked his temperature, gave him water, and called the pediatric clinic.
The nurse advised her to monitor him closely, keep him hydrated, and bring him in if his condition worsened.
Lauren carried him downstairs because he refused to let go of her.
Patricia sat at the island drinking coffee.
“He’s sick,” Lauren said. “Could you hold him while I get his medicine?”
Patricia leaned away.
“I don’t want to catch anything.”
“He’s two.”
“That doesn’t mean he can’t spread germs.”
Lauren looked toward Melissa, who was entering the kitchen.
“Could you help me for five minutes?”
Melissa pulled her hoodie sleeve over her hand.
“I have plans later. I can’t get sick.”
Lauren swallowed her frustration and carried Noah back upstairs.
For the next several hours, she moved between the bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, and laundry room with Noah in her arms. He cried whenever she tried to set him down.
Patricia complained that the crying was giving her a headache.
Melissa asked whether Lauren could make pancakes.
Lauren stared at her.
“My son has a fever.”
“So?”
“So you can make your own breakfast.”
Melissa’s expression changed.
“Wow. There’s no need to be rude.”
Patricia immediately stepped in.
“Lauren, we understand that you’re stressed, but you should not take it out on us.”
Lauren looked at both women in disbelief.
She wanted to call Ethan, but he had an important client presentation that morning. He had worked toward it for months.
She told herself she could manage one more day.
She had always managed.
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That was the problem.
Everyone had grown so accustomed to Lauren coping quietly that they no longer noticed the cost.
