?Chapter 873:
With no chance to set her down, Hadley sat by the bed, cradling Joy through the night’s waning hours.
Near morning, she brushed Joy’s forehead—cool atst, her breathing deep and even.
Hadley eased Joy onto the mattress, and this time, Joy stayed peaceful.
Exhaling in relief, Hadley stole a moment to rest.
Her eyes had barely shut when her phone buzzed again.
Another text from Eric. “Just spoke to Dr. Nixon. Bring Joy in today—tell him aboutst night and get her checked for reassurance.”
Hadley typed back instantly, “Okay.”
No sooner had she sent it than Eric pinged again. “You okay? Did you sleep at all?”
Hadley’s gaze wavered. She hesitated for a breath, then set the phone down, leaving it unanswered.
On his end, Eric waited, phone in hand, staring at the silent screen. His throat tightened. She didn’t even bother with a polite dodge anymore—his concern meant nothing to her.
At dawn, just like the day before, Hadley brought Joy back to the hospital.
Post-checkup, Melba took Joy outside to y as usual.
With Joy out of sight, Eric finally appeared.
Thurston waved them off lightly. “A bit of difort early on with new meds is standard. It’s good that you’re keeping an eye out, though.”
Hadley’s tension eased a touch. “What do we do? Does it need anything special?”
“No,” Thurston said, shaking his head. “If it spikes unusually high—or a low fever that lingers over a week, or she gets stomach trouble,e back.”
???????????? ???????? → ?????????ν??????﹒??????
“Alright,” Hadley nodded, worry still etching her face. “Thanks, Dr. Nixon.”
“You’re wee.”
Outside the office, Hadley nced at Eric. “I’ll grab Joy. You should head to work.”
Eric didn’t reply, his eyes catching the shadows beneath hers—proof of a sleepless night.
He swallowed hard. “Hadley, you are having a hard time.”
She paused, catching his drift. “It’s not too much. Caring for my own child—it’s what I’m here for.”
She shed a faint smile. “Joy’s waiting. I’ll go.”
“Okay.” Eric stood rooted, watching her retreat, his gaze growing heavy. “Caring for your own child is your duty,” he muttered to himself.
True enough. But as Joy’s father, he hadn’t shouldered a single day of it.
What could he do? He yearned to see his daughter daily, to tend to her—and her mother too. But how could he im that ce?
In the garden, Hadley scooped up Joy.
After a night of low fever, she was now darting across thewn, her cheeks pink with glee.
“Mommy! Can we make a fruit pieter? I wanna share with Tyler!”
“Sure thing,” Hadley agreed.
On the drive back to their home, Joy babbled nonstop from the backseat.
Melba held a water bottle to her lips. “Are you thirsty? Have some water.”
.
.
.