For three seconds, standing in the warm firelight while my son quoted a holiday movie, the icy weight of the last eight years seemed to ease.

It felt almost like an ordinary family evening before a holiday meal.

Then I adjusted my silver wristwatch and felt the cold metal against my skin.

The comfort was an illusion, built on an invitation that was never meant to include four children.

I stood up and looked down at my four sons.

Henry stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, Lucas checked his shoes, Sam touched his glasses, and Jack fixed his coat buttons.

“It’s time,” I said.