The first time I saw Sophie, she ran straight into my arms.
She was small, with wide brown eyes and wild curls bouncing as she moved. She smelled like baby shampoo and fresh grass, and the moment she hugged me, she clung to me as if she had already decided I was hers.
Claire and I had fought for this moment. Years of failed pregnancies. Years of heartbreak. When we turned to adoption, the wait had felt unbearable—months of paperwork, home visits, and interviews. But now, we were finally here.
“You’re sure about this?” the social worker, Karen, asked.
She sat across the table, a thick file in front of her, watching us closely. Sophie was sitting on my lap, playing with my wedding ring, humming softly to herself.
“Of course,” Claire said confidently.
Karen nodded but didn’t look entirely convinced. I knew she had probably seen families promise the world to these children, only to fail them later.
“I believe you mean that,” she said. “But adoption isn’t just about love. It’s about commitment. This is forever. Sophie has had a hard start in life. She will test you, push boundaries, and maybe even break things. Not to be difficult, but because she’s a child. Are you prepared for that?”
Claire reached across the table, squeezing my hand. “We know,” she assured her.
Then she smiled at Sophie, who beamed back at her.
“She’s a perfect little angel.”
Karen hesitated, then finally smiled. “Alright, then. Congratulations, Claire and Simon! You’re officially parents.”
Something inside me shifted. This was it. This was forever.
I knew something was wrong the moment I stepped through the front door.
It was too quiet, like the house itself was holding its breath. Then, out of nowhere, Sophie ran to me, wrapping her little arms around my legs. Her small body trembled.
“I don’t want to leave, Daddy,” she whispered.
I knelt down so we were eye level. “Leave where, sweetheart?” I asked.
Her bottom lip wobbled, her big brown eyes filling with tears. “I don’t wanna go away again. I wanna stay with you and Mommy.”
A chill ran through me. Where had she gotten that idea? Sophie was too little for school, and she spent her days with Claire. If Claire was busy, one of our mothers would watch her. Who had said something to make her think she had to leave?
“That won’t happen,” I promised her. “You’re home now. You’re staying right here.”
Then Claire stepped into the hallway.
She wasn’t looking at me. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her face pale and blank. But her eyes—they weren’t empty. They were distant. Something had already snapped inside her.
“Simon, we need to talk,” she said.
“Why is Sophie saying she has to leave?” I asked immediately.
Claire’s jaw tightened. “Send her to her room. Now, Simon.”
Sophie’s tiny fingers gripped my shirt. I ran a hand over her back to comfort her.
“Sweetheart, go play in your room for a bit, okay? I’ll come get you soon, and we’ll have dinner.”
She hesitated, looking between us with uncertainty, but finally nodded and padded down the hall. The moment her door clicked shut, Claire spoke.
“We need to give her back.”
I froze. “What did you just say?”
“I don’t want this anymore,” she whispered. “She’s ruining everything! My books, my files… my clothes… she even ruined my wedding dress!”
“What do you mean?” I asked, confused.
Claire exhaled sharply, running a hand over her face. “I had it out earlier. I was feeling nostalgic. Sophie walked in, saw it, and called it a princess dress. She asked if she could touch it.” Claire let out a bitter laugh. “And she had paint all over her hands, Simon! Bright blue handprints. All over the dress.”
My chest ached at the thought of Sophie, full of wonder, touching something she thought was magical. “Claire, she didn’t mean to—”
“You don’t see it,” Claire cut me off. “She’s manipulative. She wants me gone so she can have you all to herself.”
I stared at her, stunned. “Do you hear yourself right now?”
Claire’s expression was cold. “You always wanted this more than I did.”
The words hit me like a slap. Like she hadn’t been the one pushing for adoption, swearing it was what she wanted too.
“You don’t mean this,” I said quietly. “You’re overwhelmed. This is just an adjustment. Like Karen said, Sophie is just testing boundaries.”
“Stop it, Simon,” Claire snapped. “Either she goes, or I do.”
I hadn’t expected an ultimatum. My wife or my child?
I looked at Claire. She wasn’t bluffing. She had walked into this conversation knowing she would leave me with no choice.
But she was wrong.
“I’m not going to destroy a little girl’s life,” I said firmly. “She’s my daughter now.”
Claire’s mouth fell open. “You’re seriously choosing a stranger over me?”
“Stranger?” I shook my head. “I’m choosing what’s right.”
Claire stormed past me, grabbed her keys, and slammed the door. I heard her car screech out of the driveway.
And just like that, she was gone.
Three weeks later, I sat across from Claire in a mediation office. She looked put together, as if she had rehearsed looking regretful in the mirror.
“I made a mistake,” she said. “I wasn’t in my right mind. But I want to fix things, Simon. I want to come home.”
I stayed silent.
“Simon?” The mediator, Ellen, prompted.
I finally spoke. “You didn’t just leave me, Claire. You left her.”
“I was overwhelmed—”
“We both were. But I didn’t walk away.”
Claire flinched. “I still love you, Simon.”
“I don’t love you anymore,” I said, my voice steady. “You broke her. And I won’t let you do it again.”
The truth settled between us. Claire let out a quiet sob. But I didn’t reach for her. Because the woman I once loved had chosen to be a stranger.
And I had already chosen Sophie.
One year later, Sophie still hesitated before calling me “Daddy,” as if afraid saying it might make me disappear. But she laughed more now. She was lighter, slowly learning to trust that love could be safe.
As I tucked her into bed one night, she curled against my chest, her tiny fingers wrapping around mine.
“You won’t leave me, Daddy?”
“Never,” I whispered, kissing her forehead.
She sighed, her body relaxing into mine.
Finally safe. Finally home.
