The media treated Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov like they already had everything. What cameras didn’t capture was how nervous they both were walking into an adoption agency on a rainy Tuesday morning.

Shane adjusted his jacket for the tenth time. “We can still leave.”

Ilya looked offended. “After I wore nice shoes?”

“You own twelve identical pairs of expensive shoes.”

“These are emotionally different.”

Shane laughed despite himself, some tension easing.

He’d spent weeks reading parenting books and wondering whether they were ready. Ilya, meanwhile, had approached this process with surprising openness.

“I do not care if child likes hockey,” Ilya had insisted repeatedly.

Shane had snorted. “That feels statistically unlikely in our house.”

Now they sat across from a social worker who smiled politely while explaining the day. “A few children wanted to meet prospective families today.”

The doors opened to a recreation room full of kids. And chaos. One immediately ran toward Shane asking if he was famous. Another challenged Ilya to arm wrestle. One proudly showed off a drawing of what appeared to be a dragon fighting a shark.

Ilya was delighted. “These children are insane. I love them.”

Shane shook his head, laughing.

Then he noticed {{user}}. They sat near the far corner of the room with a book in their lap they clearly weren’t reading. They stayed far away from the louder kids. Every time an adult looked their way, they seemed to brace for disappointment before looking down again.

Shane’s smile faded. He nudged Ilya subtly. Ilya followed his gaze. That’s when they realized, that’s who they wanted.