MY SUGAR MUMMY IS A BEAUTIFUL VAMPIRE

Celena, full of excitement to see her mother, rushed into the bedroom only to find Rose still and unresponsive. Blake watched, his heart breaking, as confusion and then worry clouded his daughter's bright eyes.

"Mommy?" Celena whispered, her small hand reaching out to touch Rose's pale cheek. "Daddy, why won't she wake up?"

Blake knelt beside her, wrapping an arm around her tiny shoulders. "Remember what we talked about in the car, sweetheart? Mommy needs a lot of rest to get better. We have to be patient and take care of her until she wakes up."

Celena nodded, but the furrow in her brow spoke volumes about her struggle to understand.

Blake prepared her favorite meal and told her stories to cheer her up, all day.

At night, Blake drifted to sleep with so much exhaustion as it was difficult to get Celena to sleep.

A week had passed since Blake brought Celena home, a week filled with moments of joy, heartache, and the constant, unspoken presence of Rose's condition. Blake stood at the kitchen sink, hands submerged in soapy water, his mind drifting to the events of the past days.

Celena's questions have become more frequent, more probing, and increasingly difficult for Blake to answer.

A splash of water on his arm brought Blake back to the present. He glanced over his shoulder at Celena, seated at the kitchen table, her legs swinging as she concentrated on a coloring book. The sight brought a small smile to his weary face.

"Hey, little star," he called softly. "How about we make some dinner together?"

Celena's face lit up, her crayon forgotten as she scrambled down from her chair. "Can we make spaghetti, Daddy? Mommy's favorite?"

The mention of Rose sent a pang through Blake's chest, but he nodded, forcing cheer into his voice. "That's a great idea. Come on, let's get started."

Together, they moved around the small kitchen, Blake guiding Celena's hands as she helped stir the sauce and break the spaghetti into the pot. The simple act of cooking together filled the cabin with a sense of normalcy that had been sorely lacking.

As the pasta cooked, Blake lifted Celena onto the counter, her favorite perch for their kitchen conversations. "So, what did you draw today?" he asked, genuinely curious about her artistic endeavors.

Celena's face scrunched up in thought. "I drew our family. You, me, and Mommy. But..." she trailed off, her little fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

"But what, sweetie?" Blake prompted gently, sensing the weight behind her hesitation.

"I drew Mommy standing up, not lying down," Celena admitted in a small voice. "Is that okay? I didn't want her to be sick in my picture."

Blake felt his throat tighten with emotion. He pulled Celena into a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "That's more than okay, little star. It's perfect. And you know what? Mommy's going to love it when she wakes up."

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of spaghetti sauce smiles and quiet conversation. As Blake tucked Celena into bed, she clutched her favorite stuffed rabbit close to her chest.

"Daddy," she asked, her voice small in the dimness of her room, "can I tell Mommy a bedtime story?"

Blake hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Of course, sweetheart. I think she'd like that very much."

Hand in hand, they padded to the master bedroom. Rose lay still, her chest rising and falling in the same slow rhythm that had become painfully familiar. Blake helped Celena climb onto the bed, watching as she snuggled close to her mother's side.

"Once upon a time," Celena began, her voice gaining confidence as she spoke, "there was a beautiful princess who fell into a deep, deep sleep..."

As Celena wove her tale, a story of love and bravery and magic, Blake felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He listened, marveling at his daughter's resilience and imagination, until her words began to slow and her eyelids grew heavy.

Gently, he scooped her up and carried her back to her own bed. "Goodnight, my brave little storyteller," he whispered, tucking her in once more.

Returning to the living room, Blake sank into his favorite armchair, the weight of the past week settling heavily on his shoulders. The silence of the cabin, once a comfort, now felt oppressive. He reached for his phone, his fingers hovering over Reggie's number for a long moment before he finally pressed call.

The phone rang three times before Reggie's familiar voice answered, "Blake? Everything alright, man?"

Blake took a deep breath, struggling to find the words. "I... I don't know, Reg. I thought I could handle this, but..." His voice cracked, the facade of strength he'd been maintaining finally crumbling.

"Talk to me, buddy," Reggie said, his tone gentle but firm. "What's going on?"

"It's just... it's everything," Blake admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Rose isn't getting any better, and Celena keeps asking questions I don't know how to answer. I'm trying to be strong for both of them, but I feel like I'm drowning here. I don't know if I can do this anymore."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, then Reggie spoke, his voice filled with compassion. "Listen to me, Blake. You're not alone in this, okay? We're all here for you – me, Nana, Randal, the whole gang. Why don't I come up there tomorrow? I can help out with Rose, give you a breather."

Blake felt a wave of relief wash over him at his friend's offer. "Are you sure? I don't want to impose..."

"Don't even start with that," Reggie cut him off. "That's what friends are for. I'll be there first thing in the morning. Just hang in there, alright?"

After ending the call, Blake sat in the quiet living room, feeling both drained and oddly comforted. He made his way to the bedroom, pausing in the doorway to look at Rose. In the soft glow of the bedside lamp, he could almost pretend she was simply sleeping.

Climbing into bed beside her, Blake reached out to take her hand, her skin cool beneath his touch. "I miss you so much, Rose," he whispered into the darkness.

As sleep finally claimed him, Blake's last thoughts were of hope – hope that Rose would wake, hope that somehow, they would find their way through this ordeal.

The next morning dawned bright and clear, sunlight streaming through the windows and casting long shadows across the cabin floor. Blake woke to the sound of birdsong and the distant rumble of a car engine. For a moment, he lay still, disoriented, before the events of the previous night came rushing back.

Reggie was coming. The thought spurred Blake into action. He slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Rose, and quickly dressed. As he made his way to the kitchen, he heard the soft patter of feet behind him.

"Daddy?" Celena's sleepy voice called out. "Is someone here?"

Blake turned, scooping his daughter into his arms. "Good morning, little star. Uncle Reggie's coming to visit us today. How about we make some breakfast before he gets here?"

Celena's face lit up at the mention of having another familiar face around the house. "Can we make pancakes? With blueberries?"

"Absolutely," Blake agreed, setting her down on her usual kitchen stool. "Want to help me mix the batter?"

As they worked together, measuring flour and cracking eggs, Blake marveled at how such a simple activity could bring a sense of normalcy to their lives. Celena's laughter as she stirred the batter, her face scrunched in concentration, was a balm to his weary soul.

The sound of tires on gravel announced Reggie's arrival just as Blake was flipping the last pancake. Celena squealed with excitement, rushing to the door before Blake could stop her.

"Uncle Reggie!" she cried, launching herself into his arms as he stepped onto the porch.

Reggie caught her with practiced ease, swinging her around before setting her back on her feet. "Hey there, munchkin! Look at you, getting so big!" His eyes met Blake's over Celena's head, a silent message of support passing between them.

"Perfect timing," Blake said, managing a genuine smile. "Breakfast is just ready. Come on in."

As they sat around the small kitchen table, the cabin felt warmer, more alive than it had in days. Reggie regaled Celena with funny stories, drawing peals of laughter from the little girl. Blake found himself chuckling too, some of the tension easing from his shoulders.

After breakfast, Reggie suggested taking Celena for a walk around the lake. "It'll give you a chance to rest," he said to Blake, his tone brooking no argument.

As the sound of Celena's excited chatter faded into the distance, Blake sank onto the porch steps, letting out a long, shaky breath. The quiet of the forest enveloped him, a stark contrast to the chaos of his thoughts.

With slow, deliberate steps, he made his way to the bedroom and sat by her side.

Rose lay still, her face serene, showing no sign of the internal struggle Blake imagined must be raging within her. He took her hand, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her palm.

"I don't know if you can hear me, Rose," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "but I need you to hang in there. Celena needs you. I need you. Please, just... don't leave us."

The hours passed slowly. Blake moved through the cabin like a ghost, straightening already tidy rooms, folding and refolding laundry. When Reggie and Celena returned, rosy-cheeked and smiling, he felt a pang of guilt for the relief their presence brought.

That evening, as Reggie helped prepare dinner, he broached the subject Blake had been avoiding. "Have you thought about getting some help, Blake? A babysitter, or a maid, maybe? Someone to give you a break now and then?"

Blake's hand stilled on the cutting board. "I... I don't know. It feels like giving up, somehow."

Reggie's hand came to rest on his shoulder, a grounding presence. "It's not giving up, man. It's taking care of yourself so you can take care of them. Just think about it, okay?"

As they sat down to eat, Celena regaling them with tales of their lakeside adventure, Blake found his mind wandering to Reggie's suggestion. The idea of having someone else in the cabin, a stranger in their private world, felt wrong. But as he watched Celena yawn, fighting to keep her eyes open, he wondered if it might be necessary.

Bedtime that night was a quiet affair. Celena, worn out from her day of exploration, fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. Blake stood in her doorway for a long moment, watching the rise and fall of her small chest, marveling at her resilience.

Later, as he and Reggie sat on the porch, the night air cool against their skin, Blake finally gave voice to the fear that had been gnawing at him.

"What if she doesn't wake up, Reg?" he asked, his voice cracking. "What if this is it? How do I explain that to Celena? How do I... how do I go on without her?"

Reggie was quiet for a long moment, the silence broken only by the chirping of crickets and the distant hoot of an owl. Finally, he spoke, his words measured and sincere.

"I can't tell you it's going to be okay, Blake. I don't know that. But I can tell you this – you're not alone. Whatever happens, we're here for you. All of us. And that little girl in there?

She's got your strength, man. You'll get through this, one day at a time."

The cabin settled into silence as Reggie retired to the guest room and Blake made his way to bed. Lying beside Rose, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing, he made a silent promise – to her, to Celena, to himself. No matter how long it takes, he would be there, waiting for Rose to open her eyes and come back to them.