There were mornings when I stood in the kitchen at five o’clock, preparing lunches with one eye open, wondering how a single man was supposed to do the work of two parents without falling apart.
Then one of the girls would run in and hug me.
And somehow, I would keep going.
I sold my motorcycle to cover the first round of unexpected expenses. I stopped buying lunch at work and carried sandwiches in a plastic container. I postponed replacing our broken washing machine until the repairman finally told me it was cheaper to buy another one.
There were no luxury holidays.
No designer clothes.
But there were birthday cakes, school trips, library cards, and Friday nights when we crowded onto the living-room floor to watch movies.
There were Christmas mornings when the girls screamed with excitement over presents I had spent weeks saving for.
There were evenings when Chloe helped me put the triplets to bed, then sat beside me at the kitchen table while I checked bills.
