Did she really have to show up every time they needed her, just because they needed her?

"Fine. Suit yourself. I'm hanging up now."

Vince stepped out of the bedroom, water glass in hand, intent on refilling it. He paused when he saw the kitchen light was still on.

The air was thick with the warm, buttery aroma of something baking—a blend of milk and eggs.

He walked quietly to the kitchen doorway and found Jessica standing at the counter, deftly spreading frosting over a cake.

She was making a cake?

Today was Henry's birthday.

She remembered.

Vince lingered in the shadows, keeping his distance.

About half an hour later, Jessica emerged from the kitchen, carrying the cake.

It was small-maybe six inches across-but carefully decorated, the creamy swirls on top forming a delicate pattern.

Vince watched her from behind a wall, hidden, silent.

He expected Jessica to box up the cake and take it to the hospital. Instead, she carried it straight back to her room.

Vince trailed her upstairs.

closed

far corner, separated by the glass, he watched as she set the cake

Henry would

out a scrapbook filled with paper-cut illustrations, and curled

flipped open the

long, Vince saw

Jessica read

her and Henry together on his

her keeping vigil at his bedside when he was sick, never leaving

of them napping together in the same

TV, Henry planting a kiss on

So many memories.

back to when that moment

enough to remember, he'd

even made a picture of the two

thoughts drifted to that visit to Oakwood, when she overheard Henry telling Sheila he wanted to give

Jessica that when he could finish a book

He remembered.

in the end, he gave his first completed

fell onto

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