James was quick to appear then. He stumbled into view from beyond the frame of Lily’s portrait, despite having his own. His wide eyes immediately softened upon catching sight of his one and only daughter, the one he hadn’t been given the chance to raise right. She was only a baby last he remembered. Now here she was, standing right in front of him, twelve years old and nearing her teens. She was a perfect mix of him and his Lily flower, yet still entirely her own person.