
Five years ago, I adopted a baby boy left at a fire station. He grew up full of joy, and I cherished every moment with him. One evening, a woman knocked on my door, pale and trembling, saying, “You have to give my child back.”
Confused, I asked, “What do you mean?”
She explained that years ago, she had left her baby at the fire station, hoping for a better life. Now, she wanted him back.
My heart broke. I had raised him as my own, but I understood her pain. After a long, emotional conversation, we agreed it wasn’t about who was the real mother, but what was best for him. When he was old enough, he would choose his path, and the love we both had for him would always remain.
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