While Henry believed that his personal time with Kat was absolutely essential, he also felt it was equally important for her to spend time with her family. Her parents, her sister, and even her aunt, were all struggling with their own grief over the prospect of losing Kat, and they all wanted to share in the present with her as much as possible. It would be ridiculous for Henry to think he could give Kat everything she needed. Every member of her family loved her and contributed greatly to her happiness. And he felt happier when he observed her father teasing her, her mother fussing tenderly over her, her aunt regaling her with tales of her adventures around the world, and he was especially pleased when Amala strengthened her with the bond of sisterhood they shared. He was quite in awe—though he figured he shouldn’t have been surprised—by how integrated Kat and Amala were in their relationship and how Kat thrived on her time with Amala. Even while he gave them their deserved privacy, he often couldn’t keep himself from checking on them or hovering nearby. He never eavesdropped, but he regularly overheard them caught up in girlish laughter, or sometimes he heard them crying together. He hoped that meant Amala might be helping Kat come to terms with her impending prognosis, but he didn’t ask either of them about their conversations. He just gratefully put his wife into the care of her sister for a few hours every day, and he dreaded the time when they would have nothing to do but talk about all the things that had been said and done when Kat had been alive and with them.