Jacob and I exchanged a look.
For the first time since Lily’s diagnosis, I saw him watching his daughter without constantly checking whether she was tired, pale, or uncomfortable.
He was simply watching her be a teenager.
And I realized how precious that ordinary moment was.
The following Sunday, Jacob and Lily came to our house for breakfast.
Ethan was already in the kitchen, preparing pancake batter.
When the doorbell rang, he shouted for me to answer it because he claimed he couldn’t abandon a pancake halfway through its development.
I opened the door.
Lily stood beside her father holding a paper bag.
“What’s in the bag?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
Jacob looked at her.
“That’s a terrible lie.”
She grinned and walked straight into the kitchen.
Ethan turned around.
“What are you doing here?”
“Visiting.”
“You’re interrupting a very important culinary operation.”
“Your pancakes are burning.”
He spun around.
One pancake was, in fact, beginning to burn.
