After years of heartbreak trying to have a baby, my wife Elodie and I chose adoption. It felt right. That’s how we met Emilie—a bright, sweet four-year-old who immediately called us “mommy” and “daddy.” It was like she had been waiting for us all along.

Just a month after bringing her home, I came back from work and Emilie ran to me, clinging tightly to my legs, tears in her eyes.

“I don’t want to leave,” she cried. “I want to stay with you and mommy.”

My heart dropped.

“No one is taking you away,” I told her, holding her close. But as I looked up, I saw Elodie standing in the hallway, pale and tense.

“We need to talk,” she said quietly.

When Emilie went to her room, Elodie turned to me and said something that stunned me:

“We have to give her back.”

She wasn’t sleeping, constantly stressed, and overwhelmed. Emilie had stained her wedding dress with paint, broken dishes, thrown tantrums… and Elodie felt like she couldn’t cope. She saw Emilie not as a child in pain, but as a disruption to the life we had fought to build.

“She’s manipulating us,” she said. “It’s her or me.”

I didn’t even need time to think.

“I choose her,” I replied.

Elodie left.

The days that followed were hard. Emilie missed her and didn’t understand what happened. But I stayed. I comforted her, listened to her, tucked her in at night. She began to smile again. Slowly, she healed.

Weeks later, Elodie came back, full of regret. She wanted to try again—but I reminded her, “You didn’t just leave me. You left her, too.”

It’s been a year now. Emilie still flinches at sudden voices, still squeezes my hand when she’s scared. But she laughs more. She sleeps soundly. And every night, she asks the same question:

“You’ll never leave me, right?”

And every night, I give her the same answer:

“Never.”