Anthologies {MIKHAIAH AU}

please please please pt 5 {domestic drabbles}

A/N: A collection of domestic drabbles from the 'Please, please, please" universe.

/
Lia had never cried like this before.

It wasn't the usual fussiness—no half-hearted whines or sleepy complaints. This was full-blown, heart-wrenching crying, the kind that made Aiah's chest ache and Mikha pace the room like a caged animal.

The fever started in the early evening. Aiah had been feeding Lia mashed bananas when she noticed her daughter's cheeks were unusually flushed, her little forehead warm under her touch. At first, she brushed it off—babies ran warm sometimes, right? But as the hours ticked by, Lia's temperature climbed, and her usual bubbly energy faded into whimpering discomfort.

By midnight, the fever was undeniable.

/
"Ang init niya, Mikha," Aiah said, her voice trembling as she held Lia close, trying to soothe her. She paced the living room, her hand resting protectively on Lia's back. "What if this isn't normal? What if—"

"Love, kalma lang," Mikha interrupted, though her voice was tight with worry. She crouched in front of Aiah, placing a hand on her arm. "We'll figure it out. Let's check her temp again, okay?"

Aiah nodded, her breath shaky as Mikha grabbed the thermometer from the table. She gently pressed it against Lia's ear, wincing when the digital screen blinked: 38.9°C.

Mikha's face hardened, her jaw tightening. "It's high," she muttered, standing up and running a hand through her hair. "Okay. Tawagan natin yung pedia niya. May number siya para sa emergencies, 'di ba?"

Aiah nodded, clutching Lia tighter. "Nasa fridge 'yung number. Tawagan mo na."

Mikha grabbed her phone and dialed, her hands slightly shaky as she waited for someone to pick up. When the pediatrician answered, Mikha's usual nonchalant tone was replaced with urgency. "Doc, si Lia po. She has a fever—38.9. She's crying nonstop, and we don't know what to do."

The pediatrician's calm voice on the other end of the line was a lifeline. "It sounds like she might have a viral infection. Monitor her temperature, and give her paracetamol for babies. You can use a cool compress to bring the fever down. Kung hindi bumaba in a few hours, dalhin niyo na siya sa ER."

Mikha nodded, scribbling down instructions on a random receipt she found on the counter. "Got it. Thank you, Doc."

She hung up and turned to Aiah, who was now sitting on the couch, gently rocking Lia in her arms. "Okay, love. We have a plan. Paracetamol muna, tapos compress. If it doesn't go down, punta na tayo sa hospital."

Aiah looked up, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. "Bakit parang ang helpless ko? Parang hindi ko siya matulungan."

Mikha knelt in front of her, placing her hands over Aiah's. "You're helping, love. Nandito ka. That's all that matters. Kaya natin 'to, okay?"

/

The hours passed in a blur of frantic caregiving.

Aiah took Lia's temperature every thirty minutes, her hand trembling slightly each time the thermometer beeped. Mikha sat beside her on the couch, cradling a cool, damp washcloth that she pressed gently against Lia's forehead.

"Parang bumababa na," Aiah whispered at one point, her voice heavy with exhaustion but tinged with hope.

Mikha leaned closer to check the thermometer. 38.2°C. It was still high, but it wasn't climbing anymore. "Good sign," she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from Aiah's face. "We're getting there."

Lia stirred in Aiah's arms, letting out a soft whimper that sent a pang through Mikha's chest.

"Okay ka pa?" Mikha asked, resting her hand on Aiah's knee.