I rushed in to find my carefully crafted cake destroyed—frosting smeared, decorations ruined. Sophie stood beside the counter in tears, asking who could have done such a thing. As I comforted her, I noticed James’s mother, Helen, sitting quietly in the living room with an unreadable expression.
A heavy feeling settled in my chest as I realized she was the only person who had been alone in the kitchen.
When confronted, Helen dismissed the situation and spoke coldly about Sophie not being “real family.” Her words cut deeply, especially seeing Sophie’s hurt expression. James stepped in immediately, placing himself beside his daughter. With unwavering calm, he told his mother that love—not biology—made a family, and that Sophie was his daughter in every way that mattered.
He made it clear that anyone who couldn’t accept that had no place in our home. Helen left, and the house fell quiet, but James knelt beside Sophie, assuring her that she was loved and protected. In that moment, the meaning of family became stronger than ever.
