**Shattered Dreams: The Cost of Love**
For years, Emily and James had dreamed of having a child, but fate was cruel—no pregnancy came. Adoption seemed the only path left. The process was grueling: endless paperwork, inspections, waiting. Emily still remembered their first visit to the children’s home in Manchester. Young eyes, brimming with hope and fear, watched them, silently pleading. Among them was Lucy—twelve years old, with twin braids and deep blue eyes, uncannily like Emily’s late sister. Her heart ached with tenderness. James had hoped for a son, but Lucy charmed them both. She lit up at their visits, clinging to them as if they were her own.
When the director mentioned Lucy had been adopted five times—only to be returned each time—Emily nearly wept. “The eternal orphan,” they called her. The reasons were vague, but Emily didn’t pry. Her heart couldn’t bear the thought of a child betrayed so many times by those she’d loved. She and James vowed Lucy would be their daughter—never abandoned again.
As they waited for approval, they brought Lucy home more often. Their three-bedroom house had a room ready—every foster child’s dream of privacy. Lucy was overjoyed, basking in their affection. Then—miraculously—Emily discovered she was pregnant. A blessing, they called it, common among adoptive parents. They rejoiced, but never considered cancelling the adoption. Lucy was family.
Finally, approval came, and Lucy left the care home forever—or so they thought. The psychologist urged them to prepare Lucy for the baby. They explained she’d have a sister, that their love wouldn’t change. But when they mentioned sharing the room eventually, Lucy’s face darkened. Her stare turned icy. She stood and walked away without a word.
After that, Lucy behaved strangely. She’d clutch them fiercely as if afraid they’d vanish. Sometimes she’d wrap her arms around Emily’s neck, squeezing so tight it hurt. *”I love you, Mum,”* she’d whisper through gritted teeth, her eyes glassy. James grew uneasy, but the psychologist assured them it was just jealousy.
Then baby Grace arrived—premature, fragile. Her cot stayed in their room to avoid upsetting Lucy. Emily was exhausted, torn between them. James helped, taking Lucy to school, reading to her. Things seemed fine—until Emily noticed Grace would scream hysterically whenever left alone with Lucy. One day, she walked in to find Lucy pinching Grace’s nose, suffocating her. Lucy released her, expression blank.
That evening, James probed gently. Lucy muttered she’d been *”wiping Grace’s nose.”* Ridiculous, but the psychologist urged patience. Then came boiling water in Grace’s bottle—Lucy watching, silent. Emily saw then: not a child, but something hollow.
Grace grew stronger. Lucy seemed to adjust—but Emily never left them alone. They planned a seaside trip, their first with Lucy, but taking Grace was risky. When Emily explained, Lucy snapped. She howled, thrashed, unconsolable. The psychologist, bafflingly, called it *”healthy expression.”* Emily and James exchanged looks—they needed a new expert.
That night, after James left for a business trip, Emily tucked Lucy in, reading, talking, doubting herself—was she too harsh? Then Lucy asked, *”If Grace disappeared… would you love me more? Would we go to the seaside?”* Emily froze. This wasn’t jealousy—it was dangerous.
Later, a noise woke her. Lucy hunched over Grace’s cot, smothering her with a pillow. Emily lunged, wrenching it away. Grace was blue-lipped, gasping. Lucy’s glare—pure hatred—paralyzed her. *”I hate Grace,”* Lucy spat. *”She’s in the way. I’ll make her go away.”*
More psychologists. More warnings. Lucy wouldn’t relent. *”Grace has to disappear, or I’ll do it.”* Devastated, Emily and James made the unbearable choice—they returned Lucy to care.
Now Emily stood at the window, watching James lead Lucy away. The girl turned back, locking eyes—icy fury striking like a curse. Emily recoiled, sobbing. When she looked again, the street was empty. Rain fell softly, washing away the footprints of their broken dream.
