
My husband, Ezra Vance, and I had been childfree for eight years. In our eighth year of marriage, he suddenly mentioned wanting to adopt a daughter.
"It doesn't matter if she isn't biologically ours," he had said. "This way, you won't have to go through the pain of pregnancy."
My parents-in-law and my best friend, Sarah Bennett, were even more invested than I was. They spent twenty-one consecutive days at Oakridge Children's Home, helping me choose a child.
Mrs. Vance sent me photos every day, insisting we find a girl who shared a special connection with me. Mr. Vance pulled strings to run background checks, demanding that the child's history be absolutely spotless. Sarah took it even further, screening candidates round after round to ensure she made the right choice for me.
"We have to find you a sweet little angel who's meant to be yours," she told me.
On the day we finally decided on a child, I was so excited that I arrived at the orphanage half a day early to pick her up. Clutching a custom silver locket in my hands, I pushed open the door to the playroom.
Instead of a standard greeting, I saw my usually arrogant husband crawling on the floor. A little girl was riding on his shoulders, hugging his neck and calling him Daddy. Beside them, my mother-in-law was holding the hand of Camilla Thorne, a girl I had once sponsored.
"You and your daughter have suffered for three years," Mrs. Vance said warmly. "Today, you can finally come home."
Sarah's eyes welled up with tears as she added, "Camilla, you've endured so much for three years, and your hardships are finally over."
The laughter in the room came to a dead halt the second they noticed me standing in the doorway. Ezra instinctively stepped in front of Camilla and the child, shielding them behind his back.
I looked at this picture-perfect, happy family and offered a faint smile. "It seems this child already has a mother, so I won't take that title from her," I said quietly.

