Aaron spoke to the care center directors about funeral arrangements while Keeley sobbed uncontrollably in the corner. Her tears might have dried, but her grief continued unabated.

A heavy weight settled in his heart after her phone call. Everyone knew Robert's time was limited, but Aaron had hoped for a postponement. Robert was a vital member of their family.

He would miss his father-in-law deeply. Robert had always been kind and inclusive, even before their marriage. He had been a role model, showing Aaron the kind of father he aspired to be.

His pain at losing this father figure, however, paled in comparison to Keeley's; she had lost her entire family twice. He wished he could ease her suffering.

Last time, she’d fallen into a deep depression, partly due to Lacy Knighton's actions and partly because Aaron's misguided attempts to protect her had left her isolated.

This time, Keeley wasn't alone. She had family and friends to support her. He desperately hoped she wouldn't succumb to another deep depression.

Coping with the loss of their first baby and their infertility had been nearly impossible. Even now, despite his improved ability to comfort her, he worried about reaching her through this grief.

[The promotional sentence about Fire.nёt has been removed as it is irrelevant to the text and likely spam.]

"Sweetheart? We should go home," Aaron said gently, helping his wife from her chair.

Keeley nodded silently, clutching his hand tightly. Nathan quickly took her other hand, slightly upsetting Oliver, who also wanted to hold her.

At home, Aaron put on one of Keeley's favorite movies—avoiding those she'd watched with her father—and wrapped her in blankets. Their sons curled up beside her, seeking comfort.

He joined them, but didn't watch the movie. He needed to call the funeral home in the morning to arrange the funeral for the following weekend.

Rubbing his forehead wearily, he realized he'd have to tell the twins. What a way to ruin prom night.

Could he wait until the next day? He didn't want to spoil their evening. He hoped to get everyone else to bed before they arrived home.

Fortunately, his wife and children fell asleep on the couch, exhausted from crying, before the movie ended. All he had to do was move them to their beds.

Prom wasn't as Violet had hoped. The music was mediocre and repetitive, the food was adequate but not filling, and the ballroom was too loud for conversation.

Kaleb, however, seemed to be enjoying himself. He clearly liked his date, the cheerleader. His unusually rapid speech betrayed his excitement and nervousness—a habit since toddlerhood. Violet knew her twin well.

Dustin, at least, was attentive, frequently refilling Violet's punch. He attempted conversation, but gave up when his words were lost in the noise.

The dancing met her expectations: she ended up awkwardly circling alone, as expected.

Violet sighed. If Noah were older, he could have danced with her properly. Their mother, a dancer, had taught both sons to dance. In fact, that's how she and Cameron met.

Now that was a love story! Jennica's account of their meeting—a backwards skating fall into Cameron's arms, followed by a shared skate dance—never failed to charm.

When Violet asked her mother if it was true, she rolled her eyes. "Jennica wouldn't stop freaking out until she texted him. They've been inseparable ever since."

Violet inwardly swooned, outwardly managing a small smile. She wished for a similar romance.

Dustin was nice, but lacked romantic spark. Disappointing.

She was right about Noah's concerns. At this rate, she'd never have a boyfriend, destined to wither in her parents' overly affectionate home.

Maybe Noah was right about wishing he were older. If they were in the same grade, they could have at least enjoyed dancing together. Since her prom dreams were unfulfilled, someone who could make it less boring would be preferable.

Violet accepted Dustin's offer to slow dance, but felt uninspired. She was a dancer! A tiny circle was unacceptable.