Page 61 of Ruthless Serenade

"Alright, Miss Grumpy Tummy," I say, keeping my voice light. "Time for your royal bath!"

Sharon gives me a tiny smile. "Can Mr. Quackers come too?" she asks, pointing at her favorite rubber duck.

"Sure, sweetheart. It wouldn’t be a bath without Mr. Quackers, right?" I grab Mr. Quackers from the shelf and plop him into the tub, adding exaggerated quacking noises that draw giggles from Sharon.

As I’m washing her hair, Sharon looks up at me. "Mommy, if I eat all my veggies tomorrow, will my tummy stop being mad at me?"

I chuckle. "Well, veggies are definitely better for you than all that chocolate you ate earlier. Maybe your tummy’s just throwing a little tantrum because of that."

"No more tantrums," Sharon mutters, poking at her belly.

I smile but I can’t quite shake my worry. "How about this, baby? If you eat your veggies every day for the rest of the week, we can go to the ice cream shop this weekend. Deal?"

Sharon’s eyes light up. "Deal!" she exclaims, then winces a little. "But maybe not too much. I don’t want my tummy to hurt again."

As her bedtime approaches and her small bedroom is awash in the gentle glow of the nightlight, Sharon nestles deeper into her pillow. Her eyes are droopy and her tiny arms wrap around my neck. I feel the softness of her stuffed rabbit pressing against my skin.

"I love you, Mommy," she whispers before drifting off to sleep.

I linger for a moment longer, listening to the peaceful rhythm of her breathing before quietly leaving her room and gently clicking the door shut behind me.

I make my way to the living room and collapse onto the couch. The day’s events replay in my mind – Alexis’s visit, Sharon’s shyness, and that box of chocolate my sister brought as a gift. I cringe at remembering how eagerly Sharon devoured most it. I’d been too relieved that she was interacting with Alexis to stop her.

My eyes drift to my laptop on the coffee table, reminding me of the mountain of work I still need to tackle. It’s the second week since that disastrous presentation and the embarrassing incident with Albert, and surprisingly, I still had no calls or emails telling me that I’m fired. But I know it’s coming. It’s not a question of if but rather a when. I already handed in a few job applications and refreshed my LinkedIn profile. I just hope I can find something before Christine finds my replacement.

***

"Mommy, mommy!" The shrill cry of my daughter pierces through the quiet of the night, jerking me out of sleep. My eyes snap open and I look at the clock on the wall: it’s 2:34 AM.

Shit.

I fell asleep on the couch. And Sharon’s awake.

I push myself up and rush to Sharon’s bedside. She’s curled up in a ball, her face contorted in pain as tears stream down her cheeks.

"Mommy," she whimpers, "my tummy hurts so bad."

I sit down on the edge of her bed and switch on the heart-shaped lamp on the wall. Its soft glow illuminates the room, casting shadows across my little girl’s pale face. I place my hand on her forehead, feeling beads of sweat forming on her skin.

"Oh, baby," I say softly, trying to soothe her. "It’s okay, I’m here."

But Sharon’s pain only seems to intensify. Her breaths are becoming rapid and shallow, and she grows even paler.

I frantically try everything I can possibly think of-warm water, a gentle massage, her favorite bedtime story - but nothing brings her any relief. And with each passing moment, I feel more powerless and helpless to ease her pain. As Sharon’s cries turn to agonized screams, I realize I can’t handle this on my own.

I call 911.

"Hello? Please, I need an ambulance right away," I plead, my voice trembling slightly. "My daughter is in a lot of pain. Her belly started hurting in the evening and it’s just getting worse and worse." My words come out in a rush.

"I understand, ma’am, nothing to worry about." The operator’s voice is calm and professional. "What’s your location?"

I give her my address. "Please, hurry up. She’s only six, she’s crying, and I don't know what to do."

"Help is on the way, ma’am," the operator assures me. "In the meantime, can you tell me exactly what could have led to this?"

I take a shaky breath, trying to focus on the operator’s questions. "She has a sharp pain in her stomach. She skipped dinner… and ate a lot of chocolate after lunch, which was probably a mistake." I’m finding it hard to put two coherent sentences together. I try again. "She’s been feeling unwell since and now it’s become unbearable."

"Okay, try to remain calm, please." The operator’s steady voice is a calming presence in the face of my panic. She probably talks to crying mothers all the time "Help will be there soon. Is your daughter conscious and breathing normally?"

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