I knew something wasn’t right the moment I stepped through the front door.
It was too quiet—like the house was holding its breath. And then, out of nowhere, Sophie ran into me, wrapping her little arms around my legs.
Her voice trembled.
“I don’t want to leave, Daddy,” she whispered.
I kneeled so we were eye-to-eye.
“Leave where, sweetie?” I asked.
Her lip quivered, tears filling her wide brown eyes.
“I don’t want to go away again. I want to stay with you and Mommy.”
A cold shiver ran down my spine. Where had she heard this? Sophie was too young for school and spent her days with Claire at home. While Claire worked, Sophie played, and when Claire had meetings, one of our mothers watched her.
Who had said what to her?
“That won’t happen,” I promised, “You’re home now, sweet girl.”
Just then, Claire walked 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, expressionless. But her eyes? They weren’t empty—just distant. Like something inside her had snapped.
“Simon, we need to talk,” she said.
“Why is Sophie saying she has to leave?” I asked.
Claire clenched her jaw.
“Send her to her room. Now, Simon!” she snapped.
Sophie’s tiny fingers gripped my shirt as if trying to anchor herself to me. I ran my hand gently 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, her heart racing in mine.
Reluctantly, she nodded and padded down the hallway, casting nervous glances between us before disappearing into her room.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Claire spoke.
“We need to give her back.”
“What?” My voice faltered. “What did you just say?”
Claire wrapped her arms tighter over her chest.
“I don’t want this anymore, Simon,” she whispered. “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, barely holding it together.
“I had it out earlier. I was feeling nostalgic. Sophie walked in while I was holding it, and she lit up. She called it a princess dress and asked if she could touch it!”
I winced at the thought of a little girl, filled with wonder, looking at something beautiful.
“That’s—”
“That’s not the problem,” Claire snapped. “The problem is she had paint all over her hands. I didn’t even see it. But the moment she touched the fabric…”
Her voice broke into a sharp, humorless laugh.
“Bright blue handprints. All over my dress!”
“Claire, she didn’t do that on purpose,” I sighed.
“You don’t get it, 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.”
I stared at her in disbelief.
“Do you hear yourself right now?”
“You always wanted this more than I did.”
The words hit me like a slap.
I wanted this—just me? As if she hadn’t been the one pushing for adoption too? As if she hadn’t cried tears of joy when we met Sophie, promising her a forever home?
I stepped closer, searching her face for the woman I had loved. The one who had once comforted Sophie with the words:
“You’re safe now. We love you so much.”
But now? I saw someone who didn’t love our daughter.
“You don’t mean this,” I said quietly. “You’re overwhelmed, this is just an adjustment. Like Karen said. Sophie is testing boundaries, but she’s not…”
“Stop it, Simon,” Claire interrupted, her voice cutting through mine. “Either she goes, or I do.”
I froze.
An ultimatum—my wife or my daughter?
I looked at Claire. She wasn’t bluffing. Her face was still, her decision made. She walked into this conversation already knowing how it would end. She believed she would win.
The woman I had once loved, the Claire who had fought for adoption, the one who cried when we brought Sophie home, was gone. And in her place stood someone who saw a frightened little girl as a threat.
“I’m not going to destroy her life,” I said, my voice firm. “She’s my daughter now.”
“You’re choosing a stranger over me?” Claire’s voice trembled.
“Stranger? Are you out of your mind? I’m choosing what’s right.”
A sharp laugh burst from her—disbelieving, mocking.
“You think you’re some kind of hero? You’re making me the villain for not wanting a child who… who…” She choked on her words, raking her hands through her hair.
I didn’t respond because there was nothing left to say.
Claire stormed out, grabbed her keys, and slammed the door behind her. The screech of her car leaving echoed through the night.
And just like that, she was gone.
