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.

“Never mind, it’s nothing,” I said, hanging up. I checked the doors and windows, but everything was locked. There was no sign of anyone breaking in.

“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.

She was wearing old postal worker clothes. I watched as she started washing the dishes from the night before. She then pulled out some cottage cheese from her bag and began making pancakes.

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

“Wait, please, I won’t harm you,” I said, stepping out of my hiding spot. “You made those pancakes, right? Please, tell me why you’re doing this. Don’t be afraid of me, I’m the father of the girls and would never harm a woman, especially when you’ve helped me so much.”

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.

The woman nodded, but before she could speak, Emma and Lily’s voices came from upstairs, “Daddy, where are you?”

I glanced towards the stairs, then back at the woman. “Let’s sit and talk. I’ll get my girls. Please, don’t go,” I pleaded.

The woman hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Okay,” she said quietly.

I smiled in relief, then hurried upstairs to get Emma and Lily. “Come on, girls, we have a surprise guest downstairs,” I said.

They followed me down, curious. When we entered the kitchen, the woman stood by the window, looking unsure and ready to bolt.

“Please, don’t leave,” I said gently. “I just want to talk and thank you.”

Emma and Lily looked at her with wide eyes. “Who is she, Daddy?” Lily asked.

“Let’s find out together,” I replied. Turning to the woman, I added, “Please, sit down. Can I get you some coffee?”

She hesitated but then nodded slowly. “Okay,” she said softly.

We all sat down at the kitchen table. “I’m Jack,” I started, “and these are my daughters, Emma and Lily. You’ve been helping us, and I want to know why.”

The woman took a deep breath. “My name is Claire,” she began. “Two months ago, you helped me when I was in a very bad place.”

I frowned, trying to recall. “Helped you? How?”

She continued, “I was lying by the road, weak and desperate. Everyone passed by, but you stopped. You took me to a charity hospital. I was severely dehydrated and could have died. When I woke up, you were gone, but I convinced the parking guard to tell me your car number. I found out where you lived and decided to thank you.”

Recognition dawned on me. “I remember now. You were in terrible shape. I couldn’t just leave you there.”

Claire nodded, her eyes moist. “Your kindness saved me. My ex-husband tricked me, brought me from Britain to America, took everything, and left me on the street. I had nothing and no one to turn to.”

Emma and Lily listened intently, their small faces filled with concern. “That’s so sad,” Emma said, her voice barely a whisper.

“But why are you here?” I asked, still puzzled.

Claire explained, “Your help gave me the strength to keep going. I went to the embassy and told them my story. They helped me get new documents and connected me with a lawyer to fight for my son. I got a job as a postal worker. But I wanted to repay you, to show my gratitude. I saw how tired you looked when you came home every day, so I decided to help you with small things.”

I was touched by her story. “Claire, I appreciate what you’ve done, but you can’t just break into our home. It’s not safe, and it scared me.”

She nodded, looking ashamed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just wanted to help.”

Emma reached out and touched Claire’s hand. “Thank you for making pancakes. They were yummy.”

Claire smiled, tears in her eyes. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

I took a deep breath, feeling a mix of relief, curiosity, and empathy. “Claire, let’s do this differently. No more sneaking in, okay? How about you join us for breakfast now and then? We can get to know each other better.”

Her face lit up with a hopeful smile. “I’d like that, Jack. Thank you.”

We spent the rest of the morning talking and eating the pancakes she made. Claire told us more about her son and her plans to reunite with him. I realized how much strength and determination she had.

As we finished breakfast, I felt a sense of new beginnings. Claire’s gratitude and our mutual support created a bond. She had found a way to repay my kindness, and in turn, I wanted to help her reunite with her son.

Emma and Lily seemed to adore her already, and I felt a glimmer of hope for the future. “This could be the start of something good for all of us,” I thought.

“Thank you for sharing your story, Claire,” I said as we cleaned up together. “Let’s help each other from now on.”

She nodded, smiling. “I’d like that very much, Jack. Thank you.”

And so, a new chapter began for both our families, filled with hope and mutual support.