It was a quiet evening when Dad first noticed something wasn’t right with little CUTIS. Usually full of energy and laughter, CUTIS lay unusually still on the couch, her bright eyes dull and her playful spirit gone. Dad’s heart tightened as he gently placed his hand on her forehead—she was burning with fever.
Panic flickered across his face, but he quickly steadied himself. “It’s okay, I’m here,” he whispered softly, trying to comfort both CUTIS and himself. He hurried to bring a thermometer, his hands slightly trembling. The reading confirmed his fear—CUTIS had a high fever.
Without wasting a second, Dad sprang into action. He prepared a cool cloth and gently placed it on CUTIS’s forehead, hoping to bring down the temperature. He made sure she drank small sips of water, encouraging her with a soft, reassuring voice. CUTIS looked at him weakly, her small hand gripping his finger as if asking him not to leave.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Dad said firmly, sitting right beside her.
As the night stretched on, Dad stayed awake, watching over CUTIS with unwavering attention. Every few minutes, he checked her temperature, adjusted the blanket, and whispered comforting words. The house was silent, but his thoughts were loud with worry. He wished he could take her pain away and bear it himself.
At one point, CUTIS stirred and let out a soft whimper. Dad immediately leaned closer. “I’m here, sweetheart,” he said, gently stroking her hair. That simple touch seemed to calm her, and she slowly drifted back to sleep.
Hours passed, and finally, the fever began to ease. Dad let out a quiet sigh of relief, though he didn’t dare relax completely. He stayed by her side until morning light filled the room.
When CUTIS opened her eyes again, they were brighter, her small smile returning. Dad felt a wave of warmth and gratitude wash over him. In that moment, all the worry and sleepless hours were worth it—because seeing CUTIS safe and recovering was all that truly mattered.
