Our Journey Through Adoption and the Meaning of True Family

Less than a minute later, Mark rushed out of the bathroom pale and shaking, insisting something was wrong. His words were confusing and didn’t match the man who had smiled at Sam just hours earlier.

When I stepped into the bathroom, Sam sat quietly in the tub, frightened but unharmed, clutching his toy for comfort. As I helped him undress, I noticed a small birthmark on his foot—one so familiar that my breath caught. It mirrored a mark I had seen countless times before on Mark’s own foot.

In the days that followed, a quiet certainty settled over me. Mark grew distant, avoiding conversations and spending long hours away from home, while Sam and I formed a gentle rhythm together—pancake breakfasts, bedtime stories, and walks where he collected little treasures for his windowsill.

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