It was a crisp, sunny morning when Lala woke up feeling a bit off. The usual excitement of a new day was absent, and she couldn’t quite place what was wrong. She rolled over in bed, rubbing her eyes and blinking against the sunlight streaming through the window. Normally, she would have jumped up to greet the day, ready to play, read, or maybe even sneak into the kitchen for a snack before anyone else was awake. But today, she just felt sluggish, like her body was moving in slow motion.
Lala sat up slowly, feeling a strange dizziness sweep over her. It wasn’t the kind of dizziness she usually felt when she spun around too quickly, but something deeper, something that made her wonder if it was more than just the start of a long day. Her stomach rumbled, but it wasn’t a normal hunger pang—it felt uneasy, almost like it was telling her something wasn’t quite right.
Lala’s father, Mr. Thompson, was already awake. He always got up early to make coffee and prepare for the busy day ahead. He worked as a software engineer from home, so the house was often quiet, with just the sounds of typing and the soft hum of the coffee machine. He was usually the first one up and always had a smile for Lala, his little ray of sunshine. He could hear her stir in her room and decided to check on her.
“Lala? How’s my favorite girl doing this morning?” Mr. Thompson’s voice was warm, with just a hint of curiosity. He knocked softly on her door before opening it.
Lala tried to smile, but it felt a little forced. “I’m okay, Dad, I think.” Her voice was weak, and she winced slightly as she stood up from her bed.
“Okay, let me help you get to the kitchen,” Mr. Thompson said, concern creeping into his voice as he noticed how pale she looked. He guided her gently by the shoulders, noticing how she leaned on him a little more than usual.
As they made their way downstairs, Lala’s legs felt shaky, and she had to stop halfway down the stairs to catch her breath. Her father paused, turning to her with a furrowed brow. “Sweetie, are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his voice soft but firm.
“I don’t feel right, Dad,” Lala admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “My head hurts, and my stomach feels all funny.”
Mr. Thompson frowned, immediately worried. He had seen Lala go through the usual minor childhood ailments—scrapes, bruises, the occasional cold—but this felt different. Lala’s discomfort seemed more intense than anything he’d encountered before.
“Okay, let’s sit down for a second,” he said, guiding her to the couch. He quickly fetched a glass of water for her, watching as she sipped it slowly. Her face still looked pale, and her lips were a little too dry for someone who had just woken up.
“Maybe you should lie down for a bit,” Mr. Thompson suggested, sitting beside her. He gently placed his hand on her forehead, feeling that it was a little warmer than usual. His concern deepened. This didn’t feel like a simple case of not feeling well—it felt more serious.
Lala’s eyes fluttered, her body seeming to tire as she tried to keep her eyes open. “I don’t want to be sick, Dad,” she murmured, a little tear escaping from her eye. She hated feeling weak, especially when her dad was always so strong and reliable.
Mr. Thompson’s heart sank at the sight of her vulnerability. He had always prided himself on being the protector, the one who made sure Lala was safe and happy. But right now, he didn’t know what to do. The worried look on his face deepened as he tried to assess the situation.
Without hesitating, he pulled out his phone and dialed the pediatrician’s office. His hands shook a little as he waited for the receptionist to pick up.
“Hello, Dr. Wilson’s office,” the receptionist answered after a few rings.
“Hi, this is Richard Thompson. My daughter, Lala, is not feeling well this morning. She’s pale, has a headache, and her stomach is upset. I’m really worried about her,” Mr. Thompson explained, his voice filled with anxiety.
“I see. I recommend bringing her in to see Dr. Wilson as soon as possible. Can you get here in the next hour?” the receptionist asked kindly.
“Yes, we’ll be there. Thank you,” Mr. Thompson replied, hanging up. He turned to Lala, who was now lying back on the couch with her eyes closed.
“We’re going to the doctor’s office, sweetie. You’ll feel better soon, I promise,” he said softly, brushing her hair away from her face. Lala didn’t respond, but she gave a small nod, too exhausted to speak.
Mr. Thompson quickly grabbed his keys, making sure Lala was comfortable in her jacket, and helped her into the car. The drive to the doctor’s office felt longer than usual. Mr. Thompson kept glancing at Lala in the rearview mirror, his worry growing with each passing minute. She was so still, her face a little flushed, but she wasn’t complaining. She had always been a trooper when it came to getting through rough times, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
When they finally arrived, Mr. Thompson carried Lala into the office, where the nurse immediately noticed how pale she looked. “Lala, sweetheart, we’ll get you checked out right away,” the nurse said gently, leading them to an exam room.
The doctor, Dr. Wilson, came in shortly after. She was a kind woman, always patient and warm with her young patients. She immediately began to examine Lala, checking her vitals and asking her a few questions.
Lala barely responded, her eyes flickering open only briefly before closing again. Dr. Wilson frowned slightly as she listened to Lala’s heartbeat and checked her temperature.
“I think we need to run a few tests,” Dr. Wilson said, her voice calm but serious. “Lala may have an infection, possibly something like a virus that’s affecting her stomach. It’s important we do some blood work and see what’s going on.”
Mr. Thompson nodded, trying to remain calm. He knew the doctor was doing everything she could, but the worry in his heart refused to subside. He took a deep breath, trying to reassure himself as he sat by Lala’s side, holding her hand gently.
The tests were done quickly, and soon the results came back. Dr. Wilson walked into the room with a reassuring smile. “The good news is that Lala’s condition isn’t as serious as we feared. It looks like she has a viral infection that should pass in a few days with plenty of rest, fluids, and some medication to help her feel better.”
Mr. Thompson sighed in relief, feeling the tension ease from his shoulders. Lala, still feeling miserable but now relieved to know it wasn’t something worse, smiled weakly up at her dad.
“See, sweetie? I told you you’d feel better soon,” Mr. Thompson said, squeezing her hand.
As they left the doctor’s office, Mr. Thompson felt a wave of gratitude for the care Lala had received. He was glad it wasn’t something more serious. He knew that, with time and rest, she’d be back to her usual self in no time.
And as they drove home, Lala resting comfortably in the passenger seat, Mr. Thompson couldn’t help but feel that even on the toughest days, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for his little girl.
