Simon and Claire had spent years trying to build the family they always dreamed of. After countless failed attempts to have a baby, they turned to adoption. When they met Sophie — a bright-eyed 4-year-old girl with wild curls and a quiet smile — everything finally felt right.
From the very first day, Sophie called them “Mommy” and “Daddy.” It was as if she already knew she belonged.
Claire was radiant. During the final meeting, when the social worker, Karen, asked if they were sure about the adoption, Claire answered with confidence:
— “Yes. She’s our daughter.”
But Karen offered a gentle warning:
— “Adoption isn’t just love. It’s commitment. Forever. Sophie’s had a rough start. She’ll test boundaries. Are you ready for that?”
Both of them nodded.
Simon believed they were ready. Or at least, he was.
One month later, Simon came home from work and was met with an unsettling silence. Then, out of nowhere, Sophie ran to him, wrapping her little arms around his legs.
— “I don’t want to leave, Daddy.”
He knelt down, heart pounding.
— “Leave where, sweetheart?”
Her bottom lip trembled. Tears welled in her big brown eyes.
— “I don’t want to leave again. I want to stay with you and Mommy.”
A chill ran down Simon’s spine. Who told her she might leave? Sophie wasn’t in school yet — she spent every day at home with Claire or their mothers. Something was wrong.
— “You’re home now, baby. And you’re not going anywhere,” he promised, gently stroking her hair.
Then Claire stepped into the hallway. Her arms were crossed tightly, her face pale, her eyes distant.
— “We need to talk,” she said.
Simon sent Sophie to her room with a soft promise that everything was okay. But he could feel her heart pounding against his chest.
When the door clicked shut, Claire looked at him and dropped the bomb:
— “We need to return her.”
— “What?” Simon asked, stunned.
Claire began to rant. Sophie had messed up her office, ruined her files, and worst of all — she had touched Claire’s wedding dress with paint-covered hands.
— “She called it a princess dress,” Claire said, voice shaking. “And I let her touch it… I didn’t notice the paint on her hands until it was too late. There were bright blue handprints all over it.”
Simon winced, imagining Sophie in awe, reaching out for something beautiful.
— “She didn’t mean to ruin it,” he said.
— “You don’t know that!” Claire snapped. “She’s manipulative. She wants you all to herself.”
Simon was speechless.
— “Claire, she’s four.”
Claire’s voice cracked.
— “You always wanted this more than I did.”
Those words cut like a knife.
Then came the ultimatum:
— “Either she goes, or I do.”
Simon stared at his wife, realizing something had shifted. This wasn’t the woman who had once held Sophie in her arms, crying tears of joy. This wasn’t the woman who had promised Sophie a forever home.
Now, all he saw was someone who viewed their daughter as a problem — not as family.
— “I’m not destroying this little girl’s life,” he said firmly. “She’s my daughter now. She stays.”
Claire’s expression went blank. She grabbed her keys, slammed the door, and drove away.
And just like that, she was gone.
Three weeks later
Simon sat across from Claire in a mediation room. She looked calm, composed — as if she had rehearsed being regretful.
— “I made a mistake,” she said. “I was overwhelmed. I want to come home. I want to fix this.”
Simon remained silent.
He thought of Sophie crying herself to sleep for weeks. Waking in the night, calling for Claire. Asking what she did wrong.
— “You didn’t just leave me,” he said. “You left her.”
Claire tried to defend herself.
— “We were both overwhelmed…”
— “But I stayed,” Simon interrupted.
He took a deep breath.
— “I won’t let you hurt her again.”
The mediator leaned forward.
— “Simon, are you saying reconciliation isn’t an option?”
— “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” he replied.
— “I still love you,” Claire whispered.
— “I don’t love you anymore,” Simon said, meeting her eyes without flinching. “Because I chose Sophie.”
One year later
Sophie still flinches at loud voices. She still hesitates before calling him “Daddy,” as if she’s afraid the word might scare him away.
But she laughs more now. Sleeps better. She’s learning what real love feels like — the kind that doesn’t disappear.
That night, as Simon tucked her into bed, she curled up against his chest and whispered:
— “You’ll never leave me, right, Daddy?”
— “Never,” he said, kissing her forehead.
And for the first time in her life… Sophie believed him.
She was home.