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

bedroom. From the far corner, separated by the glass, he watched as she set the cake on the coffee table in front of the

would have turned

out a scrapbook filled with paper-cut illustrations, and

open the

saw her

Jessica read through every

her and Henry together on his

vigil at his bedside when

napping together

TV, Henry planting a

So many memories.

her back to when

to remember, he'd captured-painstakingly, vividly, with scissors and colored

made a picture of the two of them

to Oakwood, when she overheard Henry telling

book all

He remembered.

end, he gave

tear fell onto the

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