Even if the paperwork didn’t say it yet.
The week before his birthday, I filled out the adoption forms.
When I told him, I didn’t ask.
“If you want me to make it official, sweetheart, I will. You don’t have to say anything—just nod.”
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then he nodded once.
The morning of the hearing, he barely ate.
His hands kept folding his napkin into smaller and smaller squares.
“You’re not being sent back,” I told him gently. “That’s not what this is.”
He didn’t look up.
“Alan, you’re mine. Nothing changes today—except the paperwork.”
He met my eyes for just a second… then nodded again.
The courtroom felt cold and too bright.
Judge Brenner sat at the front, kind-faced, glasses slipping down his nose.
Estella sat beside us.
“Alan,” the judge said gently, “you don’t have to speak. You can nod, shake your head, or write if you prefer. Do you understand?”
Alan nodded.
“Do you want Sylvie to adopt you? Do you want her to be your mother, legally?”
Alan didn’t move.
The silence stretched.
Too long.
My chest tightened.
Did he… not want me?
His shoulders stiffened, hands clenched together.
Then—he moved.
He shifted slowly… and cleared his throat.
The sound was rough in the stillness.
And then—
He spoke.
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