The adoption profile stopped Eleanor mid-scroll. There, in pixelated perfection, was a ghost—or so it seemed. Charlotte’s eyes held the same sparkle Ava’s once had.
Samantha at Grace Adoption Services urged caution, but Eleanor was already rearranging the spare bedroom. When Charlotte first visited, she traced Ava’s old stickers on the window with quiet wonder. “Did another girl live here?” she asked.
“Yes, sweetheart,” Eleanor replied. “And now you will too.”
Joseph, still raw from their split, surprised everyone by showing up with a stuffed dinosaur for Charlotte. “For your new room,” he mumbled. But just as the pieces fell into place, a social worker dropped a bombshell: Charlotte’s birth mother insisted Joseph was the father.
The DNA test wait was torture. Eleanor paced, imagining worst-case scenarios. When the results proved Joseph wasn’t the father, she collapsed into his arms—the first time they’d touched in years.
At the adoption hearing, Charlotte twirled in a yellow dress, Ava’s favorite color. Afterward, over ice cream, Joseph met Eleanor’s gaze. “We’ve been through hell,” he said. “Maybe it’s time to find our way back.”
As Charlotte licked sprinkles from her fingers, Eleanor realized: this wasn’t about replacing Ava. It was about honoring her memory by loving again—fiercely, fearlessly. And in Charlotte’s laughter, she heard the echo of a promise kept.
