CHAPTER 9.

17 years ago….

The sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, painting gold on the countertops and catching specks of flour that danced in the air. The radio played in the background.

Taylor stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with one hand and cradling a cup of tea in the other. Her robe was barely tied, and her curls were frizzing wildly.

“Baby,” Daniel called from the living room, “you put cinnamon in these, didn’t you? I can smell it.”

She grinned without looking. “You got a nose like a hound.”

“For cinnamon, I concur.”

She heard him walk into the kitchen, barefoot and still shirtless, his arms coming around her waist from behind.

“Careful,” she warned. “You might get splashed.”

“With love?” he murmured on her neck.

“Hot oil, idiot.”

He laughed and kissed her cheek, then turned to sneak a pancake off the plate. She slapped his hand with the spatula.

“Ow!”

“Wait till Olivia’s up. These are for her.”

As if on cue, the soft patter of little feet echoed down the hallway.

“Mama?” Olivia’s voice was small and sleepy.

“In the kitchen, baby!”

She came in wearing her pink barbie pyjamas, holding her stuffed raccoon by the ear. Her curls were everywhere, and her eyes were still half-closed.

Daniel dropped to his knees. “There’s my girl.”

She giggled as he scooped her up, tossing her into the air and catching her. “Did you sleep well, princess?”

“No, Daddy.”

“She had a dream that the raccoon stole your pancakes,” Taylor said.

Daniel gasped. “Ricky? Say it ain’t so!”

Olivia giggled louder. “He didn’t mean to!”

He placed her gently in small chair and sat across from her. “Mama made you something special. Close your eyes.”

Immediately, she placed her hands over her eyes.

Taylor brought the plate over, three pancakes shaped like bunny ears, with blueberries for eyes and syrup in a swirl.

Olivia gasped. “Bunny pancakes!”

“Only for our favourite girl,” Taylor said.

Daniel smiled at them both. His family. His world. He reached for his camera and took a photo.

“Are you seriously taking pictures of pancakes again?” Taylor teased.

“I’m taking pictures of moments, babe. Some memories can be forgotten, so why not document?”

He leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head, watching the two most important girls in his life laugh over sticky fingers and syrup.

“I would never have a low blood sugar level.”

“What?” Taylor looked up.

“You girls make my life so sweet.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing as she sat beside him. “That’s the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said.”

“And you love it.”

“I do.” The room was filled with warmth. They ate and joked and laughed really hard. They were happy.

After breakfast, Olivia wandered off to colour in the living room while Daniel helped Taylor with the dishes.

He was drying a plate when he suddenly paused.

Taylor noticed. “What is it?”

He blinked. “Nothing.”

“You okay?” she asked, stepping closer.

Daniel shook his head slightly, then chuckled. “I stood up too fast. I’m fine. Low iron.”

But the smile didn’t reach his eyes. There was a faint tension in his jaw, his hand trembling enough to rattle the plate.

“Daniel?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. His face slackened. The plate slipped from his hands and shattered against the floor.

He stood there, blinking. A quiet exhale, almost like a sigh.

Then, a heavy thud. He fell onto the floor.

Taylor screamed. “Daniel!”

He fell hard, crumpling beside the sink, his body twitching for a second before going still.

“Daniel! Daniel, talk to me!” she knelt beside him, shaking him, her hands trembling. “Please,please, no, Daniel!!!”

In the living room, Olivia peeked around the corner, confused. “Mama?”

Taylor turned to her, her face soaked in panic.

“Stay there, baby! Don’t come in!”

She turned back to Daniel. Her hands framed his face. His lips were slightly parted, his eyes fluttering.

She reached for her phone and dialled 911.

“Help! Help!! My husband….he just collapsed. Please hurry!!!” she said as tears began rolling down her eyes.

——

Present Day.

Taylor sat in silence, her thumb pressed against the edge of the photograph.

The frame was warm from where her hand had clutched it. In the picture, Olivia sat grinning in her bunny pajamas and syrup all over her chin. Taylor leaned over her, laughing.

“Cinnamons,” she whispered to herself, eyes stinging.

A bitter smile tugged at her lips as a drop of tears rolled down her eyes.

That was the last day she saw him alive, and the last day she made pancakes. Everything reminded her of him.

She blinked, forcing the memory back, and set the frame gently on the table beside her wine glass.