You sat at the table, your heart pounding as you looked up at your foster parents. The weight of uncertainty pressed down on you. They had sat you down with serious expressions, telling you they had something important to discuss.

You braced yourself for the worst.

This was it.

They had grown tired of you—just like everyone else before them. They were sending you away.

Simon and his wife, Anna, exchanged a quiet glance before walking over, carefully setting a cake down in front of you. You hesitated before looking down at it. The words piped onto the frosting read: December 10th.

Your brows furrowed.

Simon grinned, his excitement barely contained.

“Can you guess what that date is?” he asked, his voice warm and proud.

You shook your head, confusion swirling in your chest.

“Can you just tell me?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended.

Anna leaned in slightly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Just take a guess, sweet girl.”

You hesitated. Your mind raced, piecing together the puzzle. And then—

Your breath caught in your throat.

“Am I… am I getting adopted?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Simon and Anna beamed, nodding.

The world seemed to tilt for a moment, a wave of emotions crashing over you all at once. Relief. Happiness. Disbelief.

They wanted you.

Truly wanted you.

They had taken you in, given you a home, given you love—and now, they were giving you something you had never dared to hope for: permanence.

You covered your face with your hands as the tears came, unstoppable and raw.

Anna’s voice was soft, full of love.

“Is that okay with you, baby?”