They arrived every Christmas Eve like clockwork, but none of them truly came for me.
So I wondered what would happen if I changed our little tradition.
That Christmas began like any other.
Jake, the youngest, barely looked up from his phone, already talking about a party planned for later.
Twenty-three, handsome, and careless in the way youth allows before character matters more than looks.
He kissed my cheek without meeting my eyes.
Christy, married and successful, spent the evening juggling her children, sighing loudly about exhaustion.
She looked worn—dark circles, messy hair, expensive clothes creased from travel.
Carl, a junior legal assistant, kept checking his watch and talking about work.
“Big case coming up,” he said, adjusting his cuffs. “Probably shouldn’t have taken tonight off.”
Mike, a mechanic with one child, kept stepping outside to take calls.
