“Daddy… what happened?”

I sighed. “I tried, but nothing went right.”

Danny just nodded. “Okay. Let’s clean up.”

Before I could react, he started the washing machine, loaded the dishwasher, and wiped the counters—handling everything effortlessly.

“How do you know all this?” I asked, stunned.

“Mommy taught me. She needs help.”

His words hit me. Lucy wasn’t nagging—she was exhausted. Just like my mother had been. And I had never noticed.

The next evening, I came home from work and found Lucy and Danny in the kitchen. She was chopping vegetables while Danny stirred something in a bowl.

Lucy held up a knife. “Want to help me make dinner?”

A week ago, I would’ve laughed. I would’ve waved her off, gone to sit on the couch, and let her handle everything. But now, I saw things clearly.

I stepped forward. “Yeah. I do.”

Lucy’s eyebrows lifted slightly, but then she handed me a cutting board. I picked up a tomato and started slicing, clumsy but determined. Danny giggled, and Lucy smiled.

We weren’t just making dinner. We were finally working together.