After the eighth failed attempt at IVF, my husband and I decided to adopt. The final step in the adoption process was a home visit. The caseworker looked at my husband, Liam, and me, a hint of doubt in her eyes. “You two seem like an excellent match, but your file shows that Mr. Walker adopted a daughter three years ago? Where is the child now?” I froze. “That’s impossible. This is our first application.” Liam, however, offered an awkward laugh. “Oh, that was a proxy adoption for my boss. His circumstances made it difficult for him to have her under his name, so she was temporarily registered under mine.” 1 The caseworker’s pen hovered over the paper, her brow furrowed. “A proxy adoption? Mr. Walker, that’s not in accordance with regulations.” Liam’s smile began to falter. He squeezed my hand, his palm damp with sweat. “It was a unique situation. My boss is in a very sensitive position, you understand. We’ve already initiated the transfer of custody, and the child’s registration will be moved very soon.” His voice sounded earnest and sincere, as if he were genuinely going above and beyond for his superior. I sat beside him, squirming with discomfort. In five years of marriage, this was the first I’d heard of Liam having a daughter under his name. A three-year-old daughter, a “proxy” daughter. This was a plot twist even TV dramas wouldn’t dare to attempt. The caseworker was clearly taken aback by his explanation. She looked from Liam to me, her probing gaze making me want to sink into the floor. “Ms. Rosenthal, were you aware of this?” What could I say? If I said no, our home would be a mockery, and our adoption application would be immediately rejected. If I said yes, I’d be an accomplice, a complete fool. My face felt flushed, and I could only manage a stiff nod. “I was.” The two words felt like knives, cutting into my throat. Liam gave me a grateful look, a look that made my stomach churn. The caseworker jotted down a few notes, asking no further questions, but the atmosphere had turned icy. She performed her duties methodically, inspecting the room we had prepared for a child – pink walls, a charming crib, piles of imported toys. I had decorated it all myself, filled with hopeful anticipation for our future child. Now, it looked like a cruel joke. After seeing the caseworker out, I could no longer maintain my composure. “Liam Walker, you’d better give me an explanation.” He closed the door, his smile vanishing instantly, replaced by a look of utter exhaustion. “Willow, please don’t be angry. I was going to tell you about this.” “Tell me when? When our adopted child arrived, would you then inform me they had a sister?” My voice trembled uncontrollably. “No, no!” he quickly denied. “That child… it’s a very complicated situation.” “No matter how complicated, she’s legally your daughter! And you kept this from me for three whole years!” I gestured towards the nursery. “How many IVF cycles did we go through for a child of our own? How much pain did I endure? Have you forgotten all that? We struggled so hard to reach this point of adoption, and you test me with something like this?” Liam was speechless. He walked towards me, trying to embrace me, but I pushed him away. “Don’t touch me!” His eyes reddened, his voice pleading. “Willow, believe me, my boss and I have a purely professional relationship. Helping him out with this was a huge boost for my career.” “So for your career, you can just casually adopt a child? What do you take our marriage for? What do you take me for?” “I just wanted to give us a better life!” His voice rose, then quickly softened. “This will all be sorted out very soon, I promise. Please don’t overthink it, okay?” He always downplayed everything. But my mind was a chaotic mess. Would a man really “proxy adopt” a daughter for his boss? My head was spinning; I couldn’t make sense of it. That night, we slept in separate rooms. It was the first time in our five years of marriage. Lying on the cold guest room bed, my eyes wide open, I couldn’t sleep a wink. 2. The next morning, Liam acted as if nothing had happened, making me breakfast. He pushed a glass of milk towards me, cautiously observing my expression. “Willow, I know you’re still upset. But we need to provide a reasonable explanation to the adoption agency.” I had no appetite; my chest felt heavy. “What do you plan to say? Continue with the story about proxy adoption for your boss?” “It’s the best explanation we have right now.” He nodded. “I’ve already consulted a lawyer. As long as my boss provides a statement confirming the child is his, and we process some additional paperwork, the custody can be transferred.” He spoke with such conviction, as if everything was under control. But the cloud of suspicion in my heart only grew heavier. “Who is your boss? Why can’t he raise his own child? Where’s the child’s mother?” I fired off a volley of questions. Liam’s eyes flickered away. “My boss’s family situation is… complicated. His wife isn’t well and has been recuperating abroad. This child… was the result of a moment of weakness.” “A love child?” I blurted out. Liam’s face paled, and he nodded with difficulty. “Something like that. That’s why his wife can’t know, and why the child couldn’t be registered under his name.” The explanation sounded perfectly plausible. A wealthy man’s love child, entrusted to a trusted subordinate to avoid disrupting his family and business – it made logical sense. Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. “Willow, I know this has caused you distress.” Liam took my hand, his posture humble. “But look at how much we’ve suffered to have a child. Now that we’re so close to the finish line, we can’t let my mistake ruin everything, can we?” He touched upon our shared heartache. Five years of marriage, and no children. From initial hope to desperate medical treatments, to repeated IVF failures – my body and spirit had endured immense pain. Finally, we had to give up and chose adoption. This was our unspoken grief. Liam knew children were my biggest weakness. “As soon as the home visit approval comes through, I’ll immediately deal with that child’s situation. I promise it won’t affect us,” he vowed. I looked at his bloodshot eyes, and my resolve wavered. Perhaps I was truly overthinking things? Perhaps he was just momentarily foolish, doing something stupid for the sake of his career? “I want to meet the child,” I finally said. Liam froze. “And her ‘mother’,” I added. He was silent for a long time, so long I thought he would refuse. “Alright,” he finally said. “I’ll arrange it.” His quick agreement made me even more uneasy. He seemed convinced that once I met them, all my doubts would vanish. Was this confidence, or was it arrogance? 3. The meeting was arranged at an upscale family restaurant. When I arrived, Liam was already there. Beside him sat a young woman and a little girl. The woman appeared to be in her mid-twenties, with delicate features, dressed in a white sundress, exuding a gentle demeanor. The little girl, about three years old, had two pigtails and sat quietly in her chair, holding a small cake. Seeing me, Liam immediately stood up, looking a bit flustered as he introduced them. “Willow, this is Holly. And this is her daughter, Rosie.” Holly also stood, offering me a somewhat shy smile. “Mrs. Walker, it’s lovely to meet you. I’m so sorry to have caused you so much trouble.” Her posture was humble, full of gratitude and apology. I didn’t speak, my gaze fixed on the little girl named Rosie. The child looked up at me, her eyes dark and bright like two grapes. Whether it was my imagination or not, I couldn’t help but notice a striking resemblance in her features to Liam’s. Especially her nose – it was almost an exact match. My heart plummeted. “Mrs. Walker, please sit down,” Holly warmly invited. I sat beside Liam, who immediately pulled out my chair attentively and poured me a glass of water. “Rosie, say hello to Auntie Willow,” Holly prompted her daughter. The little girl looked at me timidly, then softly murmured, “Hello, Auntie.” Her voice was sweet and gentle. If not for the circumstances, I probably would have adored her. “Rosie is a very good girl,” I managed a stiff smile. Three lines of blank space.
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