Being a single dad to two little girls, Emma, who was 4, and Lily, who was 5, was the hardest job I ever had. My wife left us to travel the world, and now it was just me and the girls. I loved them more than anything, but balancing work, cooking, and taking care of everything at home left me exhausted.

Every morning, I woke up early. First, I would wake the girls.

That morning was no different. “Emma, Lily, time to get up!” I called softly, opening their bedroom door.

Lily rubbed her eyes and sat up. “Good morning, Daddy,” she said, yawning.

Emma, still half asleep, mumbled, “I don’t want to get up.”

I smiled. “Come on, sweetie. We have to get ready for daycare.”

I helped them get dressed. Lily picked her favorite dress, the one with the flowers, while Emma chose her pink shirt and jeans. Once they were dressed, we all headed downstairs.

I went to the kitchen to make breakfast. The plan was simple: oatmeal with milk. But when I entered the kitchen, I stopped in my tracks. There, on the table, were three plates of freshly made pancakes with jam and fruit.

“Girls, did you see this?” I asked, puzzled.

Lily’s eyes widened. “Wow, pancakes! Did you make them, Daddy?”

I shook my head. “No, I didn’t. Maybe Aunt Sarah stopped by early.”

I picked up my phone and called my sister, Sarah.

“Hey, Sarah, did you come by this morning?” I asked as soon as she picked up.

“No, why?” Sarah sounded confused.

“Is it safe to eat, Daddy?” Emma asked, looking at the pancakes with big eyes.

I decided to taste them first. They were delicious and seemed perfectly fine. “I think it’s okay. Let’s eat,” I said.

The girls cheered and dug into their breakfast. I couldn’t stop thinking about who could have made the pancakes. It was strange, but I decided to let it go for now. I had to get to work.

After breakfast, I dropped Emma and Lily off at daycare. “Have a good day, my loves,” I said, kissing them goodbye.

At work, I couldn’t focus. My mind kept going back to the mysterious pancakes. Who could have done it? Why? When I returned home that evening, I got another surprise. The lawn, which I hadn’t had time to mow, was neatly cut.

I stood in my yard, scratching my head. “This is getting weird,” I muttered to myself. I checked the house again, but everything was in order.

The next morning, I decided to find out who was helping me. I got up earlier than usual and hid in the kitchen, peeking through a small gap in the door. At 6 a.m., I saw a woman climb in through the window.

My stomach growled loudly. The woman turned around, startled. She quickly turned off the gas and ran towards the window.

The woman stopped and slowly turned to face me. I saw her face and thought she looked familiar, but I couldn’t place where I knew her from.

“We’ve met before, haven’t we?” I asked, confused.