My parents texted me, “The Christmas party has been canceled. Don’t come, my love.” They had no idea I was standing right outside the door, watching them and my sister raise a glass and say, “Merry Christmas—it’s so much better without So

Inside, my father poured another round of wine, smiling like a king in a castle.

And behind me, David Harlan waited—patient, calm—like a man holding the match while everyone inside stood in a room full of gasoline.

The arriving car’s tires crunched over snow in the driveway.

Through the window, I saw my sister’s head turn toward the sound. My mother adjusted continue reading …