I Adopted a Homeless Woman’s 4-Year-Old Son – 14 Years Later, My Husband Revealed What the Boy Was ‘Hiding’

He’d been planning to leave in case he was no longer wanted in my home.

But the worst was the page right at the back of the notebook.

It was a page labeled “Rules.”

It was written in a childish hand, the paper old and worn at the edges.

Like something he’d written years ago and had studied often.

Don’t be loud.

Don’t need too much.

Don’t make people choose.

Be ready.

I closed the folder and sat very still, tears pouring down my face.

I’d failed him. I didn’t know how or when, but at some point, I’d led Noah to believe he wasn’t safe, that he wasn’t permanent.

I had to fix that.

Caleb finally spoke. “I found it when I was cleaning his room.

I wasn’t looking for anything. It was behind his school binders.”

I pushed my chair back and stood. “I need to talk to him.”

Noah was in his room, cross-legged on the floor, fixing something with tape.

He looked up when I came in, calm as always.

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