Sophie ran into my arms when I first saw her.
She smelled like baby shampoo and fresh grass and was little with wide brown eyes and untamed curls. She clutched me like she knew I was hers.
Claire and I struggled for this. Years of miscarriages. Years of heartbreak. We endured months of paperwork, house visits, and interviews before adopting.
So here we were.
“You’re sure about this?” Karen, the social worker, questioned.
She sat across the table with a big file, watching us closely. Sophie sang while toying with my wedding band on my lap.
“Of course,” Claire said confidently. “She’s ours.”
Karen nodded but didn’t seem convinced. I tried not to take it too seriously because Karen was probably used to families promising these kids the world and then disappointing them.
“I believe you mean that,” she said. But adoption goes beyond love. Commitment matters. It’s everlasting. A child with a difficult upbringing is entering your home. Sophie will test you. She’ll challenge and possibly breach rules. She won’t mean it, but she’s young. Be ready for everything.”
Claire clasped my hand across the table.
“We know,” Claire responded.
She smiled at Sophie, who smiled back.
“She’s a sweet angel.”
“Alright,” Karen hesitated. Claire and Simon, congrats! Now you’re parents.”
My heart changed. The beginning of eternity.
I knew something was amiss when I entered the front door.
It was too quiet, like the house was holding its breath. Sophie suddenly lunged onto me, throwing her small arms around my knees.
Her tiny voice trembled.
“I don’t want to leave, Daddy,” she said.
Kneeling at eye level, I frowned.
Leave where, sweetheart? I requested.
Her bottom lip shook. She cried with large brown eyes.
I don’t want to leave again. Want to stay with you and Mommy.”
Cold chill swept through me. Where did she hear it? And why? Sophie spent her days with Claire at home because she was too young for school. Sophie played while Claire worked. Either mother watched Sophie as Claire ran to meetings.
Who addressed my child?
“That won’t happen,” I assured her. “You’re home, sweet girl.”
Claire entered the hallway.
She was peering past my shoulder, arms crossed so tightly it looked painful. She was pallid and blank. But her eyes? They weren’t empty. They were apart.
She felt like something had snapped inside.
“Simon, we need to talk,” she said.
“Why is Sophie saying she must leave?” I replied.
Claire constricted jaw.
Put her in her room. Simon, now!”
Sophie held onto my shirt with small fingers like she could anchor herself. I stroked her back.
Sweetheart, play for a while. Get in your room. I’ll get you soon for dinner!”
She paused. I felt her heart beating against mine.
She nodded hesitantly and walked down the corridor, nervously eyeing us before entering her room.
Claire spoke when her door closed.
We must return her.”
“What?” Oh, I gasped. “What did you say?”
Claire clutched her chest.
“I don’t want this anymore, Simon,” she muttered. “She’s ruining everything!” She destroyed my books, files, clothes, and even my wedding dress!
“You mean what?” I frowned.
Claire inhaled hard, covering her face like she was shaking.
I revealed it before. Perhaps I was nostalgic… Simon, Sophie lighted up when she entered while I held it. She requested to touch the princess dress!”
A small kid, full of wonder, gaze at something lovely, made my chest ache.
“That’s—”
Claire snapped, “That’s not the problem.” The issue was her paint-covered hands. I have no idea how I missed it. However, when she touched the fabric…
She laughs sharply and without humor.
“Bright blue prints. All over that dress!”
“Claire, she didn’t do that to hurt you,” I groaned.
Simon, you don’t know! Clair’s voice broke. You don’t see! She manipulates. She wants me gone so she may have you alone.”
I fixated on her.
“Do you hear yourself?”
“You always wanted this more than I did.”
I felt slapped by the words.
Wanted it. Only me?
Like she hadn’t pushed adoption, stating it was her wish?
Like she hadn’t cried when we met Sophie and promised her a lifelong home?
Moving forward, I searched her face for the woman I knew. This woman clutched Sophie.
Now you’re safe. We adore you, she added.
But now? Only someone else was visible. Unloving of our daughter.
“You don’t mean this,” I whispered. “You’re overwhelmed and adjusting. Like Karen said. Sophie is merely testing limits. But she’s not…
“Stop it, Simon,” Claire’s words sliced through me. “She leaves or I do.”
I froze.
An ultimatum surprised me. My wife or child?
I checked Claire, and she wasn’t lying. Her attitude was too calm, as if she had accepted it. She knew she would leave me with little choice when we talked.
She believed she would win.
My beloved Claire, who campaigned for our adoption and grieved when we welcomed Sophie home, was gone. Someone who perceived a fearful girl as a threat replaced her.
I said, “I’m not going to destroy this little girl’s life,” my voice even. Final. Now she’s my daughter.”
“You’re picking a stranger over me?” Claire opened her mouth.
“Stranger? Are you insane?! I choose right.”
Her chuckle was sharp and skeptical.
“You think you’re a hero? She made a strangled moan and raked her hair, accusing herself of not wanting a child.
I remained silent. There was nothing further to say.
Claire ran passed me, grabbed her keys, and slammed the door. Her automobile roaring out of the driveway resonated at night.
Just like that, she was gone.
Three Weeks Later
The place smelled like old coffee and poor air freshener.
Each second stretched like a chasm between us while a round clock ticked on the wall. Sophie and my mother were delighted to bake and decorate cookies.
“Don’t worry, Simon,” my mother said. “I’ll love and entertain my grandchild. Son, fix your marriage.”
Claire now sat opposite me. Her hands were stiffly clasped in her lap, and she continued looking at me and the mediator.
Claire was barely recognizable as my wife.
Not pallid and frenzied like the night she went. She looked calm, wearing my anniversary pearl earrings and delicate pink lips.
Her face seemed forced, like she had practiced regret in a mirror before coming here.
“I made a mistake,” she murmured, breaking the silence. I wasn’t thinking straight.”
I breathed gently, looking at Ellen, the mediator, who was watching us closely with a pen on a legal pad.
Claire looked at me, her voice lower.
Simon, I… I succumbed to terror. I was unprepared. I’ve thought, and I want to go home. Let me mend us.”
I remained mute.
What was to fix?
She stood in our home and labeled our daughter manipulative. Claire thought a 4-year-old was manipulative?
I was given an ultimatum like Sophie was trash.
She wanted to go back because a year had gone, she was lonely, and her decisions had become true.
Reverse it?
I continued, “You didn’t just leave me, Claire. “You left her.”
I felt overwhelmed. She recoiled.
“We both were,” I said. “I didn’t leave.”
Claire’s lips parted, but I continued.
“What did she do after you left?” My voice faltered, but I continued. “She cried herself to sleep for weeks. She woke up at night to call you. She thought she erred.”
“Simon…” Claire’s eyes were glassy.
Shaking my head.
“You broke her,” I swallowed the lump. “I won’t let you do it again.”
Silence.
Ellen swallowed.
“Simon, just to clarify, reconciliation is not an option?”
I consulted the mediator.
“Exactly what I’m saying.”
“I still love you, Simon,” Claire remarked.
“I don’t love you anymore,” I stared at her.
Cold, final reality settled between us. Claire sobbed quietly. But I didn’t grab her. I didn’t comfort her.
Because the lady I loved became a stranger.
I’d selected Sophie.
One Year Later
Sophie still recoils at loud speakers.
She still hesitates to call me “Daddy,” as if it will make me disappear.
She still holds my hand when she’s terrified, when dreams pursue her into my room, and when she loses sight of me in the store and someone lets go.
She laughs more now. She’s lighter. She’s learning to trust lasting love.
She cuddled into my chest, her small fingers around mine, as I put her to bed tonight.
“Daddy, you won’t leave me?”
Kissing her forehead, I murmured, “Never.”
Her body relaxed against me as she exhaled.
Finally safe. Finally home.
Inspired by true events and people, this work is fictionalized for creativity. To preserve privacy and enrich the story, names, characters, and facts were changed. The author does not imply any resemblance to real people, events, or places.
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