The first time I saw Sophie, she ran straight into my arms, small with wide brown eyes and wild curls, smelling of baby shampoo and fresh grass. She clung to me, as though she knew I was home.
After years of heartbreak and failed pregnancies, Claire and I had fought for this moment. Adoption was a long journey, but here we were, holding Sophie, our daughter. Karen, the social worker, asked if we were sure. Claire’s steady voice confirmed, “She’s ours.”
But Karen warned us adoption wasn’t just about love; it was about commitment. We promised Sophie, “You’re home now, my sweet girl.”
When we got home, Sophie clung to me, whispering that she didn’t want to leave. I reassured her.
Then Claire said we needed to give Sophie back. She was overwhelmed by the mess, feeling Sophie was too much of an inconvenience. But I couldn’t abandon Sophie. She had been abandoned before, and I wouldn’t let it happen again.
After Claire left, I stayed with Sophie, my daughter. Weeks later, Claire returned, apologizing and asking for reconciliation. But I couldn’t forgive her for walking away from Sophie. “You left her,” I told her, and I wouldn’t let her hurt Sophie again.
