“My name is Lillian Parker,” the first announced.
“I am Harper Parker,” said the second.
“And I am June Parker,” finished the third, beaming.
Madison introduced herself again, feeling oddly like she was being interviewed rather than surprised.
They told her everything. How they had overheard a phone call. How their father had straightened his jacket five times before leaving. How he had burned dinner because he kept checking the clock.
“He gets nervous,” Harper said. “He thinks we do not notice.”
June shook her head. “We always notice.”
Madison listened, something warm and unfamiliar forming behind her ribs. These were not children sent to apologize. These were children sent to protect something fragile.
“And why was it so important that I know he did not forget,” Madison asked softly.
Lillian hesitated before answering.
“Because he has been sad for a long time,” she said. “And when he is sad, he still takes care of us. But nobody takes care of him.”
Madison swallowed. Before she could respond, the café door opened sharply.