Page 80 of Babies for the Christmas Grump

No, no, no,Ithink, but the panic is already setting in, and I can’t stop it.

I try to keep upright, but my legs are jelly. Before I know it, everything goes dark.

I wake to the sound of someone calling my name.

The world feels heavy. It’s pressing down on me, and for a second, I don’t know where I am or what’s happening. My body feels like it's in slow motion, and everything is happening through a thick fog.

I blink a few times, trying to focus, but the edges of my vision are still blurry. My head is spinning, and I can’t seem to get my bearings.

Breathe. Just breathe.

I try to take a deep breath, but it comes out too shallow.

I try to move, but my body is so heavy. My arms are lead, and my legs won’t cooperate. I can’t even feel them properly.

Marjorie? My mind claws for something familiar.

Then I feel her hand in mine, a gentle pressure. My heart skips.

“Sunny?” she whispers, trembling. “Are you okay?”

I try to speak, but my throat feels dry, and when I try to open my mouth, nothing comes out.

Finally, I manage a faint rasp, barely above a whisper. “I… I don’t feel so good…”

I’m not sure if I’m saying the words out loud or if it’s just my mind trying to make sense of the confusion. My eyelids feel so heavy, like they’re made of stone. I fight to keep them open.

“No, no,” Marjorie says urgently, pushing me back gently, her hand on my shoulder. “Stay with me, alright? You need to stay awake.”

It takes every ounce of effort to keep my eyes from fluttering shut again. The dizziness hasn’t let up; if anything, it’s gotten worse.

I feel her fingers squeeze mine, a lifeline in this spinning world. “You’re fine,” she insists, but I can hear the strain in her voice. “You’re okay.”

I want to believe her, I do, but everything inside me feels wrong. I’m falling, slipping away.

I try again to push myself up, but my body betrays me, and I just slump back down.

“Stay still, Sunny,” Marjorie says, tight with worry. “Please. I’m not going to let you go until you’re alright.”

I try to laugh, but it comes out as more of a cough. I manage to focus on her for a moment, even as my vision swims.

“Too much,” I mutter. “The hotel, the gala… everything. It’s just too much.”

I try to shake off the feeling, the weight pressing down on my chest, but it’s hard. I don’t know how to explain what I’m feeling. I can’t breathe.

My body is failing me, but I can’t seem to find the words.

Marjorie presses her hand gently to my forehead, her touch cool against my feverish skin. “You’re not okay, Sunny. And I need to get you checked out. We can’t keep ignoring this.”

I want to argue, to tell her I’m fine, but the words are stuck in my throat, and it takes everything in me to stay awake.

“Sunny,” she continues, quieter now. Concern, maybe, or fear. “I want to call a doctor, but there’s something I need to ask first.”

I blink slowly, trying to focus on her face, but her expression is tight, her brows furrowed in thought.

Her voice lowers. “Could you… could you be pregnant?”

The question hits me like a bucket of ice water.