The first time I saw Sophie, she ran straight into my arms.
She was so small, all wide brown eyes and wild curls, and she smelled like baby shampoo and fresh grass. She clung to me like she already knew—like 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, interviews. And now, here we were.
“You’re sure about this?” the social worker, Karen, asked, her eyes serious as she studied us from across the table. A thick file sat in front of her.
Sophie sat on my lap, playing with my wedding ring, humming softly to herself.
“Of course,” Claire said without hesitation. “She’s ours.”
Karen nodded but didn’t look convinced. She was probably used to families making big promises, only to walk away 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 tough start in life. She’ll test you. She’ll push boundaries. She might break things. It won’t be on purpose, of course. But she’s just a child. You have to be prepared for all of this.”
Claire reached across the table and squeezed my hand.
“We know,” she said.
Then she smiled at Sophie, who beamed back at her.
“She’s a perfect little angel.”
“Alright,” Karen hesitated. “Then congratulations, Claire and Simon! You’re officially parents.”
Something shifted in my heart. This was the beginning of forever.
I knew something was wrong the moment I stepped through the front door.
The house was too quiet. The kind of silence that made my stomach twist. Then, out of nowhere, Sophie crashed into me, wrapping her tiny arms around my legs.
Her little voice trembled.
“I don’t want to leave, Daddy,” she whispered.
I frowned, kneeling so we were eye level.
“Leave where, sweetheart?” I asked gently.
Her bottom lip wobbled. Tears welled in her big brown eyes.
“I don’t wanna go away again. I wanna stay with you and Mommy.”
A cold chill ran through me. Where had she heard this? And why? Sophie was too little for school, and she spent her days at home with Claire. Who had told her something like that?
“That won’t happen,” I promised, pulling her close. “You’re home now, sweet girl.”
Then Claire stepped into the hallway.
She wasn’t looking at me. Her gaze was fixed somewhere past my shoulder, her arms crossed so tightly it looked painful. Her face was pale, blank even. But her eyes weren’t empty. They were distant.
Like something had already snapped inside her.
“Simon, we need to talk,” she said.
“Why is Sophie saying she has to leave?” I countered.
Claire’s jaw clenched.
“Send her to her room. Now, Simon.”
Sophie’s tiny fingers gripped my shirt like she could anchor herself to me. I smoothed a hand over her back.
“Sweetheart, go play for a bit, okay? I’ll come get you soon, and we can have dinner.”
She hesitated. I could feel her heart racing against mine. But after a long pause, she nodded and padded down the hall, casting nervous glances at us before disappearing into her room.
The moment her door clicked shut, Claire spoke.
“We need to give her back.”
I stared at her.
“What?” My voice came out hoarse. “What did you just say?”
Claire’s arms tightened over her chest.
“I don’t want this anymore, Simon,” she whispered. “She’s… she’s ruining everything! My books, my files, my clothes… she even ruined my wedding dress!”
“What do you mean?” I frowned.
Claire exhaled sharply, running a hand over her face.
“I had it out earlier. I was feeling nostalgic, I guess. Sophie walked in while I was holding it, and she lit up, Simon. She called it a princess dress and asked if she could touch it.”
My chest ached at the image of a little girl, full of wonder, staring at something beautiful.
“That’s—”
“That’s not the problem,” Claire snapped. “The problem is, she had paint all over her hands. I don’t even know how I didn’t see it. But the moment she touched the fabric…”
Her voice broke into a humorless laugh.
“Bright blue handprints. All over the damn dress!”
“Claire, she didn’t do that to hurt you,” I sighed.
“You don’t know that, Simon!” Claire’s voice cracked. “She’s manipulative. She wants me gone so she can have you all to herself.”
I stared at her, my stomach twisting.
“Do you hear yourself right now?”
“You always wanted this more than I did,” Claire said bitterly.
The words hit me like a slap.
I had wanted this. But so had she. Or at least, I had believed she had.
Then she said the words that changed everything.
“Either she goes, or I do.”
I took a deep breath, the truth settling over me like a weight I could never shake.
“Then go,” I said.
Claire’s face paled. “You’re choosing a stranger over me?”
I shook my head. “She’s not a stranger. She’s my daughter.”
Claire stormed past me, grabbed her keys, and slammed the door behind her. The sound of her car screeching out of the driveway echoed in the night.
And just like that, she was gone.
One year later, Sophie still flinches at loud voices. She still hesitates before calling me “Daddy,” like she’s afraid the word itself will make me disappear.
But she’s laughing more now. She’s lighter. She’s learning to trust in the kind of love that doesn’t leave.
Tonight, as I tucked her into bed, she curled against my chest, her tiny fingers wrapping around mine.
“You won’t leave me, Daddy?”
“Never,” I said, kissing her forehead.
She sighed, her body relaxing into mine.
Finally safe. Finally home.
