After years of struggling with infertility, my husband Mark and I decided to adopt. The adoption process was long and difficult, but when we met Sam, a sweet, three-year-old boy with ocean-blue eyes, we knew he was meant to be ours. The moment we met, Sam reached for my hand, and I felt an instant connection.

However, when we arrived home, Mark became distant and confused. He panicked, saying he couldn’t bond with Sam and even suggested we “take him back.” I was heartbroken and couldn’t understand what was happening. Later, as I helped Sam out of the bath, I noticed a birthmark on his foot—one that matched Mark’s. My suspicions grew, and when I confronted Mark, he admitted the truth: Sam was his biological son, the result of a one-night fling years before.

Devastated by the betrayal, I sent DNA samples for confirmation. When the results came back, they confirmed Sam was Mark’s son. That night, I told Mark I wanted a divorce. I couldn’t forgive him for trying to abandon our child. I filed for divorce and sought full custody.

In the years that followed, Sam and I built a life together. He became my son in every way that mattered, and despite Mark’s occasional contact, Sam thrived. Looking at Sam today, I know that love isn’t about biology—he is my child because of the love we chose to give each other.