My sister-in-law always felt entitled to whatever she wanted, but nothing prepared me for her most outrageous demand yet—she wanted me to have a baby just so she could keep it as a gift. When she refused to take no for an answer, I decided to teach her a lesson she would never forget.
Do you think you have crazy relatives? Well, let me tell you about mine, and you might change your mind.
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Harry and I had been married for seven years, together for nearly fifteen, and we had two wonderful children, Maya and Luke.
Our little family was everything to me but when it came to our extended family, things weren’t as simple.
I realized something was off with my MIL, Charlotte, and my SIL, Candice, the very first day I met them.
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I told myself it was just nerves, that I was overthinking it. I had no idea then just how much trouble they would bring into my life.
Before our wedding, Candice proved just how self-centered she was. She threw a full-blown tantrum because I had the audacity to choose someone else as my maid of honor.
Worse yet, she claimed my dress was prettier than hers. As if my wedding was supposed to revolve around her!
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She nearly ruined the entire day, but thankfully, Grace, Harry’s grandmother, stepped in.
Grace was the only truly kind soul in that family, aside from my husband. Unfortunately, she lived too far away to rescue us often.
But just before Candice’s thirtieth birthday, something happened that made me question reality itself.
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Candice rarely visited us, and when she did, she kept her distance from the kids, always complaining that they were “too noisy” or “gave her headaches.”
But that day was different. She spent hours playing with Maya, and something about it sent a shiver down my spine. As it turned out, I had every reason to be worried.
During dinner, Candice kept glancing at me and Harry. I knew she wanted attention. I just didn’t know why.
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“I have an announcement!” Her voice rang through the dining room. “I’m going to be a mom!” she blurted out.
Harry choked on his food. He coughed and grabbed his water. I froze with my fork halfway to my mouth.
“What?” I asked.
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Harry wiped his mouth. “Who… is the father?” His brows furrowed. “You’re not even dating anyone.”
He was right. The last boyfriend, she had run off after she screamed at him for not buying her an expensive handbag.
Candice waved a hand. “That’s actually why I came over today.” She straightened in her chair. “The parents of my daughter will be you two.”
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My stomach twisted. “What?!”
She sighed like I was the crazy one. “I’m almost thirty, and I don’t have a husband.” She smiled. “The perfect birthday gift would be a daughter.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it. My brain struggled to process her words.
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Harry rubbed his temples. “You want Stephanie to be your surrogate?”
Candice shook her head. “No, I want you two to have a baby for me.”
I placed my hands on the table. “So, it would be our child, and you expect us to give it to you?”
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“Not just give—give it to me for my birthday. What’s the problem?” Her tone was light, casual, like she was asking for a sweater.
I stared at her. “You seriously don’t see a problem?” My voice rose. “Harry and I aren’t having any more children. I am not having a baby just to hand it over to you.”
Candice scoffed. “Stephanie, you’ve always been so selfish.”
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Harry’s chair scraped against the floor as he sat up. “No, Candice. Stephanie is right. We’re not doing this.”
“But why? You already have two! What’s the big deal about having one more?” Her voice hit a high-pitched whine.
I clenched my fists. “I am not an incubator! A child is not an object! A child is a person!”
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“You just don’t want me to be happy! You want to be the only one with kids!” Candice shrieked.
Harry slammed his hand on the table. “Enough! Leave. Now.”
Candice’s face burned red. She stood, shaking with anger. “I’ll tell Mom about this!” She stomped to the door, threw it open, and slammed it behind her.
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I exhaled. “How did she even come up with this?”
Harry shook his head. “She’s completely lost it.”
Candice stayed quiet for a while. I hoped that meant she’d finally let it go. I should have known better.
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One afternoon, Candice showed up at our house with Charlotte by her side.
Candice’s arms overflowed with shopping bags from baby stores. My first thought was she had decided to be a good aunt and bring gifts for Maya and Luke. But the smug look on her face told me otherwise.
Charlotte walked in without waiting for an invitation. She sat on the couch and gestured for Harry and me to join her. Candice stood nearby, grinning.
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“Candice told me that you agreed to give her a baby,” Charlotte said.
“What? No, we told her we weren’t going to do that,” I said.
“Why not?” Charlotte asked.
“Because it’s insane,” Harry replied.
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“Is it really that hard? Stephanie, as a woman, you should know that the older you get, the harder it is to have children. Candice is already almost thirty,” Charlotte argued.
“I’m not going to give my child to your daughter, who has no idea what it means to be a parent,” I said firmly.
“That’s not true! I already bought everything!” Candice announced, pulling out baby clothes and dresses from her bags.
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“You do realize that a baby is not a doll you can just dress up, right? Babies cry, scream, spit up, and do a lot of unpleasant things,” Harry pointed out.
“My daughter won’t be like that. She’ll be like your Maya—I’ve never seen Maya cry,” Candice said confidently.
“That’s because you’ve never spent enough time with her,” I countered.
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“Then I’ll just bring my daughter to you when she cries,” Candice said.
“Babies cry day and night. Are you planning to bring her to me every single time?” I asked.
“Yes. What’s the problem with that?” Candice asked, genuinely confused.
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Harry buried his face in his hands.“This is impossible. Candice, you are not ready to be a mother. And asking someone to have a child for you is completely insane,” he said.
“But you’re my brother!” Candice cried.
While they argued, I noticed Charlotte had disappeared. I went looking for her and found her in our bedroom—poking holes in our condoms.
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“What are you doing?!” I shouted.
“Making everyone’s life easier,” she said calmly.
“Have you lost your mind?!” I screamed.
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“Listen, it wouldn’t be hard for you to have another baby, but it is hard for Candice. So I just decided to help a little,” she said.
“Help?!” I yelled. “You’re interfering in our personal lives!”
“Not everyone is as lucky as you, having a husband like my son. You should understand that,” Charlotte replied.
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“You’re treating me and your son like an incubator! Why can’t Candice just go to a sperm donor?!” I snapped.
“Donors are just random people. But you and Harry already have two healthy children, so Candice would know for sure that her baby would be fine,” Charlotte said.
“That would be our child! Ours!” I shouted.
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“But you’d be having it for Candice, so it would be her child,” Charlotte argued.
“Do you really think I would give my child to someone who believes you can choose a baby’s gender? Or that babies don’t cry?” I asked.
“I will help her,” Charlotte said.
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“That makes…” that makes the situation even worse, I wanted to say, but I stopped myself.
An idea formed in my mind—a way to teach both Candice and Charlotte a lesson and show everyone just how insane they were.
“You know what? If you’re going to help, then I agree,” I said.
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Charlotte beamed. “Finally! Why didn’t you just say so earlier?” she said, then went to tell Candice the “good news.”
As soon as they left, Harry turned to me in shock. “You actually agreed to this?” he asked.
“I have a plan,” I said.
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For the next nine months leading up to Candice’s birthday, I played my role well.
I smiled, touched my belly often, and acted like the happiest pregnant woman.
Every time Candice called, I assured her everything was going smoothly. I even let her ramble about nursery themes and baby names.
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It was exhausting. Keeping up the act drained me, but I had to see this through.
When the time came, I announced I would give birth in another city. Candice pouted but accepted my reasoning—I told her the “gift” had to remain a surprise until her birthday. After all, it was a present, right?
On the big day, the whole family gathered for the reveal. Even Grace had traveled to be there.
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Candice had told everyone about her “grand surprise,” building the moment up as if she had won the lottery.
Harry and I walked in when everyone was seated. I held a baby carrier, wrapped with a giant bow, cradling it carefully. Candice gasped, her hands clasped in front of her.
“Let me see her!” she squealed, trying to peek inside.
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“Not yet,” I said. “Wait for the big moment.”
Finally, Candice stood, practically glowing with excitement. “I have a very special announcement!” she declared. “Harry and Stephanie have given me the most incredible birthday gift—a baby!” Gasps filled the room. Eyes locked on us.
Candice turned, arms outstretched. “Okay, hand her over now!” I smiled and placed the carrier in her hands.
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Candice tore off the bow. She reached inside the carrier with trembling hands. Her eyes sparkled with excitement. Then her face twisted in horror.
“WHAT IS THIS?!” she shrieked, pulling out a doll.
The room fell silent. All eyes were on her. Harry and I burst into laughter.
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“The only baby you’re fit to take care of,” I said, smirking.
Candice’s chest rose and fell fast. Her fingers dug into the doll’s plastic limbs. She looked at me with pure rage.
“But you were pregnant!” she screamed. “I saw your belly!”
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“Fake bellies,” I said, shrugging. “I went out of town to ‘give birth’ just to sell the illusion.”
Candice let out a sharp sob. Charlotte gasped and shot up from her seat.
“You heartless witch!” Charlotte yelled.
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“And who exactly is heartless?” I snapped. “The people who refused to give away their child? Or the ones who expected a baby like it was a wrapped-up gift?”
Candice clutched the doll to her chest. Tears streamed down her face.
“But… but I already bought so many dresses!” she whined. “Who am I supposed to dress up now?”
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“The doll works perfectly,” Harry said, still chuckling.
Candice’s hands trembled as she looked down at the toy. Her whole body shook.
Then I noticed Grace watching carefully. Her wrinkled hands rested in her lap. Her sharp eyes flicked between Candice and Charlotte.
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“Can someone explain to me what’s going on here?” she asked, her voice firm.
I turned to her. “Candice came to us a year ago demanding that we give her a baby for her birthday.”
Grace’s face twisted in confusion. “You mean… as a surrogate? Does she have health issues?”
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“No,” Harry said. “Our baby.”
Grace’s frown deepened.
“Candice is perfectly healthy,” I added. “She just doesn’t have a husband and thought we should give her a child.”
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Grace’s face turned red with fury. She pushed herself up from her seat and pointed a shaking finger at Candice and Charlotte.
“ARE YOU BOTH OUT OF YOUR MINDS?!” she roared.
Candice flinched. “W-what? What’s so wrong with it?” she stammered.
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“You’re just like your mother, Candice! I warned my son not to marry you, Charlotte, but he didn’t listen! And this is the result!” Grace spat.
“Grandma, how could you say that?!” Candice cried.
“I’m saying the truth!” Grace snapped. She took another deep breath, then fixed them both with a look of disgust.
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“I am writing you both out of my will.”
The room fell silent. Grace’s estate was worth a lot. Everyone knew it. Candice and Charlotte froze in shock.
“You’re serious?” Charlotte whispered, her voice unsteady.
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“Absolutely,” Grace said coldly. “I will not let insane people like you have any control over my wealth.”
A deep, satisfied sense of justice filled me. I watched as realization dawned on them.
“But—” Candice started.
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Grace held up a hand. “Enough. We’re leaving. I want to see my great-grandchildren—the real ones.” She turned to Harry and me. “Let’s go.”
Harry and I didn’t hesitate. We stood up and walked out, hand in hand. Behind us, Candice sobbed hysterically.
Charlotte shouted in frustration. But we didn’t care. They got exactly what they deserved.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: I thought my mother-in-law was just overbearing. But when she stole the spotlight at our gender reveal, I realized she would do anything to stay at the center of our lives. I wanted space. She refused to give it. Then I discovered her biggest secret—and regret hit her harder than she imagined.
We Adopted a Silent Boy — His First Words a Year Later Shattered Everything: “My Parents Are Alive”
When we adopted Bobby, a silent five-year-old boy, we thought time and love would heal his pain. But on his sixth birthday, he shattered our lives with five words: “My parents are alive.” What happened next revealed truths we never saw coming.
I always thought becoming a mother would be natural and effortless. But life had other plans.
When Bobby spoke those words, it wasn’t just his first sentence. It was the beginning of a journey that would test our love, our patience, and everything we believed about family.
A woman in her house | Source: Midjourney
I used to think life was perfect. I had a loving husband, a cozy home, and a steady job that let me pursue my hobbies.
But something was missing. Something I felt in every quiet moment and every glance at the empty second bedroom.
I wanted a child.
When Jacob and I decided to start trying, I was so hopeful. I pictured late-night feedings, messy art projects, and watching our little one grow.
But months turned into years, and that picture never came to life.
A sad woman | Source: Pexels
We tried everything from fertility treatments to visiting the best specialists in town. Each time, we were met with the same answer: “I’m sorry.”
The day it all came crashing down is etched in my mind.
We’d just left yet another fertility clinic. The doctor’s words echoed in my head.
“There’s nothing more we can do,” he’d said. “Adoption might be your best option.”
I held it together until we got home. As soon as I walked into our living room, I collapsed on the sofa, sobbing uncontrollably.
A woman crying on the sofa | Source: Pexels
Jacob followed me.
“Alicia, what happened?” he asked. “Talk to me, please.”
I shook my head, barely able to get the words out. “I just… I don’t understand. Why is this happening to us? All I’ve ever wanted is to be a mom, and now it’s never going to happen.”
“It’s not fair. I know,” he said as he sat beside me and pulled me close. “But maybe there’s another way. Maybe we don’t have to stop here.”
“You mean adoption?” My voice cracked as I looked at him. “Do you really think it’s the same? I don’t even know if I can love a child that isn’t mine.”
A serious woman | Source: Midjourney
Jacob’s hands framed my face, and his eyes locked on mine.
“Alicia, you have more love in you than anyone I know. Biology doesn’t define a parent. Love does. And you… you’re a mom in every way that matters.”
His words lingered in my mind over the next few days. I replayed our conversation every time doubt crept in.
Could I really do this? Could I be the mother a child deserved, even if they weren’t biologically mine?
A woman sitting in her house | Source: Pexels
Finally, one morning, as I watched Jacob sipping his coffee at the kitchen table, I made my decision.
“I’m ready,” I said quietly.
He looked up, his eyes filled with hope. “For what?”
“For adoption,” I announced.
“What?” Jacob’s face lit up. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.”
“Wait,” I said, raising a brow. “You’ve already been thinking about this, haven’t you?”
He laughed.
“Maybe a little,” he confessed. “I’ve been researching foster homes nearby. There’s one not too far. We could visit this weekend if you’re ready.”
A man smiling | Source: Midjourney
“Let’s do this,” I nodded. “Let’s visit the foster home this weekend.”
The weekend arrived faster than I expected. As we drove to the foster home, I stared out the window, trying to calm my nerves.
“What if they don’t like us?” I whispered.
“They’ll love us,” Jacob said, squeezing my hand. “And if they don’t, we’ll figure it out. Together.”
When we arrived, a kind woman named Mrs. Jones greeted us at the door. She led us inside while telling us about the place.
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“We have some wonderful children I’d love for you to meet,” she said, guiding us to a playroom filled with laughter and chatter.
As my eyes scanned the room, they stopped on a little boy sitting in the corner. He wasn’t playing like the others. He was watching.
His big eyes were so full of thought, and they seemed to see right through me.
“Hi there,” I said, crouching down beside him. “What’s your name?”
He stared at me, silent.
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That’s when my gaze shifted from him to Mrs. Jones.
“Is he, uh, does he not talk?” I asked.
“Oh, Bobby talks,” she chuckled. “He’s just shy. Give him time, and he’ll come around.”
I turned back to Bobby, my heart aching for this quiet little boy.
“It’s nice to meet you, Bobby,” I said, even though he didn’t respond.
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Later, in her office, Mrs. Jones told us his story.
Bobby had been abandoned as a baby and left near another foster home with a note that read, His parents are dead, and I’m not ready to care for the boy.
“He’s been through more than most adults ever will,” she said. “But he’s a sweet, smart boy. He just needs someone to believe in him. Someone to care for him. And love him.”
At that point, I didn’t need more convincing. I was ready to welcome him into our lives.
“We want him,” I said, looking at Jacob.
He nodded. “Absolutely.”
A man smiling | Source: Midjourney
As we signed the paperwork and prepared to bring Bobby home, I felt something I hadn’t felt in years. Hope.
I didn’t know what challenges lay ahead, but I knew one thing for certain. We were ready to love this little boy with everything we had.
And that was only the beginning.
When we brought Bobby home, our lives changed in ways we never could have imagined.
From the moment he walked into our house, we wanted him to feel safe and loved. We decorated his room with bright colors, shelves full of books, and his favorite dinosaurs.
But Bobby remained silent.
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He observed everything with those big, thoughtful eyes like he was trying to figure out if this was real or just temporary. Jacob and I poured every ounce of love we had into him, hoping he’d open up.
“Do you want to help me bake cookies, Bobby?” I’d ask, crouching down to his level.
He’d nod, his tiny fingers grabbing the cookie cutters, but he never said a word.
One day, Jacob took him to soccer practice and cheered on from the sidelines.
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“Great kick, buddy! You’ve got this!” he shouted.
But Bobby? He just smiled faintly and stayed quiet.
At night, I read him bedtime stories.
“Once upon a time,” I’d begin, peeking over the book to see if he was paying attention.
He always was, but he never spoke.
A little boy smiling | Source: Midjourney
Months passed like this. We didn’t push him because we knew he needed time.
Then his sixth birthday approached, and Jacob and I decided to throw him a small party. Just the three of us and a cake with little dinosaurs on top.
The look on his face when he saw the cake was worth every bit of effort.
“Do you like it, Bobby?” Jacob asked.
Bobby nodded and smiled at us.
A little boy smiling | Source: Midjourney
As we lit the candles and sang “Happy Birthday,” I noticed Bobby staring at us intently. When the song ended, he blew out the candles, and for the first time, he spoke.
“My parents are alive,” he said softly.
Jacob and I exchanged shocked glances, unsure if we’d heard him correctly.
“What did you say, sweetheart?” I asked, kneeling beside him.
He looked up at me and repeated the same words.
“My parents are alive.”
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I couldn’t believe my ears.
How could he know that? Was he remembering something? Had someone told him?
My mind raced, but Bobby said nothing more that night.
Later, as I tucked him into bed, he clutched his new stuffed dinosaur and whispered, “At the foster place, the grownups said my real mommy and daddy didn’t want me. They’re not dead. They just gave me away.”
His words broke my heart and made me curious about the foster home. Were his parents really alive? Why didn’t Mrs. Jones tell us this?
A woman standing in her house | Source: Midjourney
The next day, Jacob and I returned to the foster home to confront Mrs. Jones. We needed answers.
When we told her what Bobby had said, she looked uncomfortable.
“I… I didn’t want you to find out this way,” she admitted, wringing her hands. “But the boy is right. His parents are alive. They’re wealthy and, uh, they didn’t want a child with health issues. They paid my boss to keep it quiet. I didn’t agree with it, but it wasn’t my call.”
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“What health issues?” I asked.
“He wasn’t well when they abandoned him, but his illness was temporary,” she explained. “He’s all good now.”
“And the story about that note? Was it all made up?”
“Yes,” she confessed. “We made that story up because our boss said so. I’m sorry for that.”
A woman talking in her office | Source: Midjourney
Her words felt like a betrayal. How could someone abandon their own child? And for what? Because he wasn’t perfect in their eyes?
When we got home, we explained everything to Bobby in the simplest way we could. But he was adamant.
“I wanna see them,” he said, clutching his stuffed dinosaur tightly.
Despite our reservations, we knew we had to honor his request. So, we asked Mrs. Jones for his parents’ address and contact details.
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At first, she didn’t allow us to contact them. But when we told her about Bobby’s situation and how he was so desperate to see them, she was compelled to change her decision.
Soon, we drove Bobby to his parents’ place. We had no idea how he’d react, but we were sure this would help him heal.
When we reached the towering gates of the mansion, Bobby’s eyes lit up in a way we’d never seen before.
As we parked our car and walked toward it, he clung to my hand and his fingers tightly gripped mine as if he’d never let go.
A child holding his mother’s hand | Source: Pexels
Jacob knocked on the door, and a few moments later, a well-dressed couple appeared. Their polished smiles faltered the second they saw Bobby.
“Can we help you?” the woman asked in a shaky voice.
“This is Bobby,” Jacob said. “Your son.”
They looked at Bobby with wide eyes.
“Are you my mommy and daddy?” the little boy asked.
The couple looked at each other and it seemed like they wanted to disappear. They were embarrassed and started explaining why they gave their child up.
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“We thought,” the man began. “We thought we were doing the right thing. We couldn’t handle a sick child. We believed someone else could give him a better life.”
I felt my anger rising, but before I could say anything, Bobby stepped forward.
“Why didn’t you keep me?” he asked, looking straight into his birth parents’ eyes.
“We, uh, we didn’t know how to help you,” the woman said in a shaky voice.
Bobby frowned. “I think you didn’t even try…”
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Then, he turned to me.
“Mommy,” he began. “I don’t want to go with the people who left me. I don’t like them. I want to be with you and Daddy.”
Tears filled my eyes as I knelt beside him.
“You don’t have to go with them,” I whispered. “We’re your family now, Bobby. We’re never letting you go.”
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Jacob placed a protective hand on Bobby’s shoulder.
“Yes, we’re never letting you go,” he said.
The couple said nothing except awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other. Their body language told me they were ashamed, but not one word of apology escaped their lips.
As we left that mansion, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace. That day, Bobby had chosen us, just as we had chosen him.
His actions made me realize we weren’t just his adoptive parents. We were his real family.
A boy smiling while holding his teddy bear | Source: Midjourney
Bobby flourished after that day, his smile growing brighter and his laughter filling our home. He began to trust us completely, sharing his thoughts, his dreams, and even his fears.
Watching him thrive, Jacob and I felt our family was finally complete. We loved it when Bobby called us “Mommy” and “Daddy” with pride.
And every time he did, it reminded me that love, not biology, is what makes a family.
A man holding a boy’s hand | Source: Pexels
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