Forty Something

When six lifelong friends discover a shimmering tear in reality at the summit of Diamond Head, they step through — and find themselves in 1948 Honolulu, restored to their best selves. They return home changed, and keep the secret for forty years. Now in their eighties, the memory pulls them back to the mountain. The wall is still there. So is everything it once gave them. And this time, they understand exactly what they're stepping into.

That last line does the work your current closing sentence tries to do, but more precisely — because the story's real power is not that they're deciding, it's that they already know. Knowledge without hesitation is more moving than a dilemma.