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.

door closed

the glass, he watched as she set the cake on the coffee table in

would have

her desk, pulled out a scrapbook filled with

open

long, Vince saw her dabbing at

time, Jessica read

pictures of her and Henry together

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

napping together

TV, Henry planting a

So many memories.

tugged her back to when that

remember,

of the two of

Oakwood, when she overheard

finish a book all by himself, he'd give

He remembered.

gave his first

onto the open

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