Where Love Remains
The Promise
The waiting room was painted a soft shade of blue, the kind meant to calm nerves. It wasn’t working. My leg bounced uncontrollably as I checked my watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. Beside me, Hannah squeezed my hand, her grip painfully tight.
“Daniel, relax,” she whispered. “You’re making me more anxious.”
I tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. “Sorry. It’s just… we’ve been waiting so long for this.”
Four years, to be exact. Four years of applications and interviews. Four years of home visits and background checks. Four years of disappointment and renewed hope.
And now, finally, we were here.
The door opened, and Ms. Rivera stepped out, her expression professionally neutral. She was in her fifties, with streaks of gray in her dark hair and eyes that had seen too much heartbreak. Behind her was a small boy holding tightly to her hand.
My heart stopped.
