Simon and Claire finally have the family they dreamed of… until Claire demands they give their newly adopted daughter back. As Claire’s love turns to resentment, Simon faces an impossible choice. But for him, there’s no question. Sophie is his daughter now. And he will fight for her, no matter the cost.
The first time I saw Sophie, she ran straight into my arms.
She was 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.
She watched us carefully from across the table, a thick le in front of her. Sophie sat on my lap, playing
with my wedding ring, humming softly to herself.
“Of course,” Claire’s voice was rm and condent. “She’s ours.”
Karen nodded, but she didn’t look too convinced. I tried not to take it too seriously because Karen was
probably used to families promising these children the entire world and then failing them.
“I believe you mean that,” she said. “But adoption isn’t just about love. It’s about commitment. This is
forever. You’re bringing a child into your home who’s had a hard start in her life. Sophie will test you.
She’ll push boundaries and maybe even 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,” Claire 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 ofcially 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.
It was quiet, too quiet, like the house itself was holding its breath. 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 said
A man standing in a foyer | Source: Midjourney
I frowned, kneeling so we were eye level with each other.
“Leave where, sweetheart?” I asked.
Her bottom lip wobbled. Tears welled in her wide brown eyes.
“I don’t wanna go away again. I wanna stay with you and Mommy.”
An upset little girl | Source: Midjourney
A cold chill ran through me. Where had she heard this? And why? Sophie was too little for school and she
spent her days with Claire at home. While Claire worked, Sophie played. While Claire had meetings she
had to run to, either of our mothers watched Sophie.
Who had said what to my child?
“That won’t happen,” I promised her. “You’re home now, sweet girl.”
A little girl playing with her toys | Source: Midjourney
Then Claire stepped into the hallway.
She wasn’t looking at me, her gaze was xed somewhere past my shoulder, arms crossed so tightly it
looked painful. Her face was pale, blank even. But her eyes? They 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.
A woman standing in a hallway | Source: Midjourney
Claire’s jaw clenched.
“Send her to her room. Now, Simon!”
Sophie’s tiny ngers gripped my shirt like she could anchor herself to me. I smoothed a hand over her
back.
“Sweetheart, go play for a bit, okay? Go to your room. I’ll come get you soon, and we can have dinner!”
She hesitated. I could feel her heart racing against mine.
An upset little girl | Source: Midjourney
Then, reluctantly, she nodded and padded down the hall, casting nervous glances between us before
disappearing into her room.
The moment her door clicked shut, Claire spoke.
“We need to give her back.”
“What?” I gasped. “What did you just say?”
A man standing in a hallway | Source: Midjourney
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 les…
my clothes… she even ruined my wedding dress!”
“What do you mean?” I frowned.
Claire exhaled sharply, running a hand over her face like she was barely keeping it together
A woman standing in a hallway with folded arms | Source: Midjourney
“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…”
A wedding dress on a bed | Source: Midjourney
Her voice broke into a laugh, sharp and humorless.
“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. “You don’t see it! She’s manipulative. She wants me
gone so she can have you all to herself.”
A little girl with paint on her hands | Source: Midjourney
I stared at her.
“Do you hear yourself right now?”
“You always wanted this more than I did.”
The words hit me like a slap.
I wanted this? Only me?
An upset woman standing in a hallway | Source: Midjourney
Like she hadn’t been the one pushing adoption, swearing it was what she wanted too? Like she hadn’t
wept with joy the day we met Sophie, promising her a forever home?
I took a step forward, searching her face for the woman I knew. The woman who had once held Sophie.
“You’re safe now. We love you so much,” she had said.
But now? All I saw was someone else. Someone who didn’t love our daughter.
A pensive man | Source: Midjourney
“You don’t mean this,” I said quietly. “You’re just overwhelmed, and this is just an adjustment. Like Karen
said. Sophie is just testing boundaries, sure… but she’s not…”
“Stop it, Simon,” Claire’s voice cut through mine like a blade. “Either she goes, or I do.”
I froze.
I hadn’t expected an ultimatum. My wife or my child?
A man with his hand on his head | Source: Midjourney
I looked at Claire, and she wasn’t blufng. Her expression was too still, too sure, like she had already
made peace with it. She had walked into this conversation knowing she would leave me with little to no
choice.
She had assumed she would win.
The woman I had loved, the Claire who had fought for this adoption, who had cried when we brought
Sophie home, was gone. And in her place stood someone who saw a scared little girl as a threat.
A close up of a woman | Source: Midjourney
“I’m not going to destroy this little girl’s life,” I said, my voice even. Final. “She’s my daughter now.”
“You’re seriously choosing a stranger over me?” Claire’s mouth fell open.
A sharp, disbelieving laugh burst from her.
An upset woman | Source: Midjourney
“You think you’re some kind of hero? That I’m the villain for not wanting a child who… who…” she let out a
strangled sound, raking her hands through her hair.
I didn’t respond. Because there was nothing left to say.
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
A woman walking away | Source: Midjourney
Three Weeks Later
The room smelled like stale coffee and cheap air freshener.
A round clock ticked on the wall, each second stretching between us like a canyon. Sophie was with my
mother, excited to make cookies and decorate them, too.
“Don’t worry, Simon,” my mother said. “I’ll keep my grandbaby loved and entertained. You go and sort
your marriage out, son.”
A plate of colorful cookies | Source: Midjourney
Now, Claire sat across from me. Her hands were stify folded in her lap, and her eyes kept icking
between me and the mediator.
I barely recognized Claire as my wife.
She wasn’t pale and frantic like the night she left. She was composed, lips painted in soft pink, wearing
the same pearl earrings I had given her on our anniversary.
A woman sitting at a table | Source: Midjourney
But there was something off, something forced, like she had practiced looking regretful in a mirror
before coming here.
“I made a mistake,” she said, nally breaking the silence. “I wasn’t in my right mind.”
I exhaled slowly, glancing at the mediator, a woman named Ellen, who watched us both carefully, pen
poised over a legal pad.
Claire turned to me, her voice gentler now, softer.
A man sitting at a table | Source: Midjourney
“Simon, I… I let fear get the best of me. I wasn’t ready. But I’ve had time to think, and I want to come
home. I want to x us.”
I stayed silent.
Because what was there to x?
She had stood in our home, looked at our daughter, and called her manipulative. A four-year-old child
was manipulative in Claire’s eyes?
An upset woman sitting at a table | Source: Midjourney
She had given me an ultimatum, like Sophie was a thing to be thrown away.
And now, because a year had passed, because she was lonely, because the reality of her choices had
settled in, she wanted to rewind?
Undo it?
“You didn’t just leave me, Claire,” I said. “You left her.”
“I was overwhelmed…” She inched.
“We both were,” I cut in. “But I didn’t walk away.”
Claire’s lips parted, but I wasn’t done.
“Do you know what she did after you left?” My voice wavered, but I kept going. “She cried herself to sleep
for weeks. She woke up in the middle of the night, calling for you. She thought she did something
wrong.”
“Simon…” Claire’s eyes were glassy now.
I shook my head.
“You broke her,” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “And I won’t let you do it again.”
Silence.
Ellen cleared her throat.
A mediator sitting at a table | Source: Midjourney
“Simon, just to clarify, you’re saying that reconciliation is not an option?”
I turned to the mediator.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“I still love you, Simon,” Claire said.
“I don’t love you anymore,” I met her gaze, unwavering.
The truth settled between us, cold and nal. Claire let out a quiet, broken sob. But I didn’t reach for her. I
didn’t comfort her.
Because the woman I had once loved had chosen to be a stranger.
And I had already chosen Sophie
One Year Later
Sophie still inches at loud voices.
She still hesitates before calling me “Daddy,” like she’s afraid the word itself will make me disappear.
She still clings to me when she’s scared, when nightmares chase her into my room, when she loses sight
of me in the store, when she’s holding my hand and someone lets go.
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 ngers 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.
A smiling little girl in a bed | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?