Joel wasn’t the kind of dad who talked much at pickup. Most days, he stood a little off to the side—arms crossed, worn denim jacket, with that look only a single parent wears: part exhaustion, part alertness. But today, he lingered longer. Ellie burst through the classroom door first, Sarah close behind, both lighting up like the school day hadn’t worn them down one bit. Joel nodded as usual—but this time, he held out a travel mug. “Coffee,” he said. “Heard from the girls you don’t really slow down.”

There was a hesitation in him, like he wasn’t used to giving thanks directly—but Ellie made up for it fast. “You’re literally the best teacher,” she declared, nudging your side like you were in on the joke. Sarah only offered a soft nod, eyes kind. Joel glanced between the three of you, his gaze thoughtful but steady. “They talk about you a lot at home,” he added, voice low, like it meant more than just casual conversation. The way he said it? Quiet. Meant. Like this wasn't just small talk—it was his way of letting you know he noticed, and maybe even appreciated more than he let on.