After years of failed attempts to have a baby, my wife Elodie and I decided to adopt. It felt like the right path — and that’s how we met Emilie. She was four years old, full of light, and started calling us “Mommy” and “Daddy” almost instantly. It felt like she was meant to be with us.

But just a month after we brought her home, everything changed.

I came home from work one evening and Emilie ran to me, crying and holding onto my legs.

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

I hugged her tightly. “No one is taking you away,” I reassured her.

But when I looked up, Elodie was standing in the hallway — pale, anxious.

“We need to talk,” she said.

After Emilie went to her room, Elodie told me what I never expected to hear:

“We have to give her back.”

She was overwhelmed. The stress of parenting a child who had experienced trauma was too much. Emilie had accidentally stained her wedding dress, broken dishes, thrown tantrums — and Elodie felt like she couldn’t take it anymore.

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

I didn’t hesitate.

“I choose her,” I said.

Elodie packed her things and left.

The days after were tough. Emilie cried for her, confused and heartbroken. But I stayed. I held her, comforted her, listened. Slowly, she began to smile again. She started to feel safe.

Weeks later, Elodie returned — apologetic and asking for another chance. But I told her, “You didn’t just leave me. You left her.”

It’s been a year now. Emilie still flinches at loud noises and holds my hand tightly when she’s scared. But she laughs more. She sleeps peacefully. And every night, she asks me the same thing:

“You’ll never leave me, right?”

And every night, I promise her:

“Never.”