When morning came, Lily woke up to the smell of pancakes.

Daniel hadn’t cooked in years. The first batch burned, smoke curling above the pan.

“You’re worse than Mama,” Lily giggled.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Daniel laughed. A real laugh—not the polite, hollow smile he wore at board meetings. Something cracked open inside him.

Later, as she wandered around the living room, Lily stopped in front of the fireplace. On the mantle, there was a framed photo of a smiling woman and a young boy—Daniel’s late wife and son.

“That’s your family?” she asked quietly.

Daniel nodded, pain flickering in his eyes. “Yes. They were.”

Lily slipped her small hand into his.