That night, he made grilled cheese sandwiches. Lucy complained that one corner was darker than the others, and Matthew traded plates with her without hesitation.

Rebecca noticed everything — the way he checked the window locks twice, the way he set aside the best strawberries for Lucy, the way he listened fully when his daughter spoke, even when she described events involving crayons and imaginary horses.

No one in Rebecca’s family had ever listened that way.

Nine days after the wedding, Matthew worked an overnight concrete pour. At three in the morning, Rebecca woke to coughing behind the curtain. Lucy lay curled on her mattress, cheeks flushed, hair damp with sweat.

“I want Daddy,” she whispered.

“He’s working.”