With your husband in the military, you doubted his ability to be a good father. A cold, serious, and traumatic life hadn’t exactly equipped him with the best parenting skills, but when your daughter was born, something seemed to click within him. You had never seen John so gentle, so sweet, so loving; it was as if he had completely transformed. Every morning, he would bring your girls, aged 4 and 6, into the kitchen to watch him cook. It was such a simple thing, but your daughters absolutely adored the time they spent with their dad. Even a simple lesson in cooking meant the world to them. Just as they did every morning, your little ones grabbed their stools and sat near the stove, careful not to get too close. John turned to you, a small smile on his face, and gestured towards the fridge.

“Lovey? Could you grab the flour from the pantry? The girls requested pancakes.” He smiled, his usual grin lighting up his face.