The morning felt almost magical. Balloons floated above the table, sunlight spilled through the windows, and our daughter Evelyn—turning five—was busy organizing her stuffed animals into a full-blown ceremony, complete with speeches and applause.
Watching her laugh, I felt that quiet, full-hearted pride that comes when a long, uncertain journey finally lands somewhere beautiful. Adoption had given us a family built on love and intention, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.
Then the doorbell rang. I expected early guests, not my mother-in-law—the woman who had kept her distance for years.
Her sudden arrival shifted the room. Her smile was polite, but the tension behind it made the air feel tight. I tried to stay in the celebration, but something inside warned me: today, the calm was fragile.
Continue reading on the next page…