Daddy's Precious Little Girl

Getting Better

The steady ticking of the clock was the only sound filling the room as I sat beside Ashlynn's crib. Dr. Mitchell had delivered the news I'd been desperate to hear: just a viral infection. I exhaled, the weight that had pressed on my chest all day finally starting to ease. "She'll be fine," he'd assured me, "but keep her home until all the symptoms clear up."

Now, in the quiet of the infirmary, Ashlynn slept deeply, her fever finally coming down. She was curled up under the soft blankets, her breaths steady. The flush of her cheeks had faded, and her face was calm, but she looked so small, so fragile.

I reached out, smoothing a stray lock of hair from her forehead. Watching her breathe, I couldn't shake the memories from earlier that day—the tense rush to get her fever down, the helplessness I'd felt, and the fear that had gripped me.

A soft knock at the door broke me from my thoughts, and Nurse Heather slipped inside, her expression softened with a kind smile. "How's she doing?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

"Better," I whispered, nodding. "Fever's down, and she's resting."

Nurse Heather looked relieved. "That's wonderful to hear. She's a strong one."

I glanced down at Ashlynn, a small smile tugging at my lips. "She's tougher than most people realize."

The nurse placed a hand on my shoulder. "And it seems like you're the perfect person to see her through this."

"Thanks," I said, my voice barely above a murmur. "I just want to make sure she knows she's safe."

Nurse Heather nodded, understanding. "You both need some rest. I'll have everything set up for you here, so you're comfortable."

Once she left, I settled into the chair beside her crib, pulling a blanket around myself. I'd promised Ashlynn earlier that I wouldn't leave her side, and I intended to keep that promise.

*****

The soft light of late morning filtered into the infirmary, gently pulling me from the light sleep I'd finally found. I blinked my eyes open, instantly focusing on Ashlynn, still resting beside me. Her cheeks had a faint flush, but her fever had finally broken, and her breathing was calm and even.

A soft knock at the door caught my attention, and Dr. Mitchell stepped in, carrying a clipboard. He glanced over at Ashlynn and then looked at me with a smile. "Good news, Ethan. I think our little patient here is ready to go home."

I let out a long, relieved sigh, the weight of the last few days finally starting to lift. "Thank you, Dr. Mitchell. It's such a relief to see her resting so peacefully again."

He nodded, his expression warm. "She handled it like a trooper. She's got a str ong little spirit, that one. The viral infection should clear up in the next day or two, but you'll want to keep her home and make sure she stays comfortable until all her symptoms are completely gone."

I looked down at Ashlynn, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead. "Is there anything else I should watch out for?"

"Yes," he replied, "her fever could still fluctuate a bit as her body fights off the virus. If it starts creeping back up—say, above 101°F—make sure she gets plenty of fluids, and you can give her another dose of the fever reducer. But if it reaches 104°F again or if she seems disoriented, call us immediately or bring her back in."

I nodded, absorbing every word. "Got it. Fluids, rest, and monitor her temperature closely."

Dr. Mitchell offered me a reassuring smile. "You're doing great with her, Ethan. Littles need that kind of stability and care, especially when they're sick. Just keep her comfortable, and she'll be back to her old self soon."