The restaurant was warm, but the dim light made the whole place feel a little tired. Outside, the drizzle smudged the view of the street. Inside, people were talking and eating in that casual, everyday way. I sat down feeling a bit out of sync with it all. My friends arrived wrapped in their usual rhythm: work outfits slightly wrinkled from the day, hair tied back in practical ways, voices carrying a tired cheerfulness as they slid into their seats. Their tones were familiar — warm, stable, a mix of affection and everyday worries. As they shrugged off their bags and jackets, the conversation shifted naturally to their children: the…