Woman Comes to Adopt a Child and Sees Her Late Son There – Story of the Day

Phoebe faces the unthinkable when she loses her son in an accident. Years later, as she heals from her wounds, she adopts a boy who looks eerily similar to her son.

Phoebe yawned and rubbed her eye with the back of her hand. She was exhausted and couldn't wait to get home and take a long shower before crawling into bed and sinking into oblivion. She loved visiting her parents, but the four-hour journey there and back always wiped her out.

Phoebe glanced at Ian in the rearview mirror, her twelve-year-old lost in the sounds of his handheld console, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"Ian, should we stop and get something to eat? Stretch our legs? Maybe wake up a bit?" she asked.

"No, Mom, I want to get home sooner," he said, smiling at her from the backseat. "Although, can I come to sit in front with you?"

"At the next gas station, sure!" she said. "But no loud music that would probably give me a headache."

"Hey!" he laughed. "But at least it will keep you awake!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she said. "Go back to your game until we get there."

Phoebe drove along the winding road. She knew it would take at least twenty minutes to get to the next gas station and another forty-five minutes before they got home. She wished they had stopped for coffee when they passed through the last town, but Ian had fallen asleep, so she had driven right through.

She looked at the sunset, the golden hues covering the landscape. Phoebe loved sunsets; they reminded her of the greater forces at hand – they reminded her of God. Especially when her faith felt tested, all she had to do was look up at the sunset, and everything would be placed in perspective.

Phoebe yawned again and put the radio off when she glanced at Ian and found that he was asleep again, the console resting on his lap. She navigated the winding roads with ease. This was a route that she was extremely familiar with – she and Ian had done it on the regular for years, more so since her husband had passed on from a lung infection.

She reached for the water bottle, which stood firmly at her feet. Phoebe secured the bottle between her legs and unscrewed the lid with one hand while still on the steering wheel.

And then, all hell broke loose.

Phoebe heard hooting, the too-late screech of tires, and the blinding glare of headlights from the oncoming vehicle. She let go of the bottle, letting the water splatter all over her legs. She grabbed hold of the steering wheel and tried to get the car to the other side of the road safely out of harm's way.

Panic surged through Phoebe's veins as her reflexes kicked in. She turned around to look at Ian, who had been awoken by the swift movements of the car.

"Ian?" she asked.

"What happened?" he asked, his eyes wide and his voice shaking with anticipation and fear.

"Another car came onto our lane," she replied carefully as the other car's headlights blinded her once more.

As Phoebe moved their car to the side, the other vehicle's driver got confused about which direction he needed to go. In those few moments of silence where she had spoken to Ian, the other car had spun around, only to ram directly into Phoebe.

Ian's side of the car took the brunt of it.

Phoebe's nose filled with the sickening scent of burning rubber, and the unmistakable taste of blood lingered on her lips as she came back to consciousness. Her head hammered, and her eyes felt heavy as she tried to open them. Her right arm was pinned down by something she couldn't yet figure out, and her left hand felt slick with blood.

"Ian," she said his name, her voice quivering through the aftermath of the accident. She wiped her eyes with her left hand, only making her vision worse as the blood smeared across her face.

"Ian!" she called, louder and more confident. "Ian!"

But no reply came.

"It's okay," she told herself. "He probably got out and is on the road looking for a car to flag down."

Phoebe knew that she had nodded out of consciousness when she opened her eyes later, and the night sky had started to fade in. She heard heavy boots, and someone grabbed her arms, cutting away the seatbelt restricting her movements.

"Come on," the voice said. "Let's get you out of here."

Phoebe could not find it in herself to respond with words. Instead, she nodded slowly, the man's shadow upon her face.

When he had extracted her from the car, he knelt beside her and checked her for any serious injuries.

"My son," she said. "My son is in the car."

The man nodded to her. He got off the ground and turned to the car, trying to locate Ian. Phoebe watched him sniff the air and then wrinkle his nose. She did the same, smelling the gas fumes steadily flowing from her car.

"Quick!" she said. "Get him out, quickly!"

The man signaled for another woman standing next to the car, which had collided with Phoebe and Ian – she looked shaken, but otherwise, she was fine.

"Take her back," the man said. "Now."

Phoebe allowed herself to be maneuvered by the woman, her eyes still locked on the car. She watched the man go to her car in search of her son. She watched him reach for Ian. After a few moments, he glanced at Phoebe before closing his eyes. Phoebe thought it looked like he was saying a prayer.

She watched the man look over his shoulder at the growing puddle of the gas, and then he ran toward them.

Phoebe was no longer in control of herself. She watched the scene as if she would watch a movie from the comfort of her couch, knowing that Ian sat on the other end, hogging the bowl of popcorn.

Then, with a deafening roar, the car erupted into a fiery inferno, flames licking the night sky with an insatiable hunger. The explosion echoed through the desolate stretch of road. Phoebe screamed for Ian, her voice threatening to drown the sound of the fire consuming her car. And her son's body. Then, the world fell away.

When Phoebe regained consciousness, she was groggy and disoriented. She felt around her and knew that she was in a hospital room. The sterile smell was unmistakable.

Ian, she thought, as a sob rippled through her entire body.

She sobbed until the machine monitoring her heart rate began to beep loud and clear, alerting any nurse in the vicinity. When the nurse came in, Phoebe had wrapped her arms around the pillow in anguish. Her right arm was so sore that she bit her lip to prevent herself from crying out.

But it was either holding onto something, or she would rip off the bandages and the machines and run off into the night, calling for her son.

"Oh, honey," the nurse said, entering the room.

Phoebe ignored the nurse while she fiddled with the machines.

"Listen to me," she said. "You've got to breathe. Come on, honey, let's do it together."

She looked into the nurse's eyes and found a kindness that soothed her.

"Did you hear about my son?" Phoebe asked the nurse.

The nurse nodded and folded her into her arms.

The sky ahead was dark and ready to cry with Phoebe as she stood, dressed in black, before the small casket. It was empty because after her car had exploded, nothing was left. The priest's words blurred into the heavy drum of her heart beating inside her ears.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," he said, indicating for Phoebe to sprinkle the soil she held over the casket.

"Oh, sweet boy," she whispered. "I failed you. And I love you so much."

She took her framed photograph on the little table beside the priest and walked to the rental car.

*

Three years later, Phoebe stood alone in her living room with a duster in one hand and a soft cloth in the other. She dropped the duster to the floor and wiped the framed photograph of Ian as it stood on the mantel. She blinked back her tears, reminding herself to be strong.

To laugh as he would want her to. To listen to the loud music that he loved but always ended up giving her a headache.

Her phone rang, picking her up from the memory of the accident.

"Hi, Dad," she said into the phone.

"Hey, Pheebs," he said. "How are you?"

"I'm hanging in there," she said. "What's up?"

"I'm just checking to see if you're coming over this weekend as we planned?" he asked, and Phoebe could hear the excitement hidden by reservation behind his words.

In the past three years, Phoebe had not returned to her parents' home – the thought of driving along that stretch of road terrified her. There was no way that she could pass by the last place where her son had been.

"Yeah, sure," she said.

"That's not an answer," her father said.

"It's all I can give, Dad," she said.

"Fine, we'll come to you," he said firmly, silencing the topic with his decisions.

Phoebe was grateful; she needed to have her parents around her. Her world was silent and lonely on most days. At least with her parents around, she would be forced to remove herself from the hole she had dug herself into.

After her father had hung up, Phoebe sat on the couch, in Ian's favorite spot, with a bowl of noodles. She looked at the photograph of her precious boy and smiled at him.

"Ian, my sweet boy," she said. "How do I go on without you? This emptiness is suffocating. Every room echoes with your absence. This house cries for you. I need to find a way to fill this void. I need to give some purpose to this pain."

Then, Phoebe put the television on – it landed to an adoption agency advertising that families should give the gift of a home to a child for their next Christmas.

Phoebe looked up at Ian's photo. It couldn't have been a coincidence.

"Message received," she said aloud. "But no promises that I'll actually do it."

Phoebe sat in front of her laptop and researched adoption agencies in the area. Phoebe felt drawn to the place as she looked through the profiles of the faceless children – only one agency did this to protect the children's identities. And the children.

One profile read: I love to read, and I cannot wait to go to the big library – which made Phoebe smile.

Another profile read: I love to eat! So maybe I'll be good at cooking too – this one made her laugh out loud. It was something that Ian would say, too.

Maybe, just maybe, she thought, there is a child out there who needs me as much as I need them.

*

Late that night, Phoebe sat at the kitchen table with a cup of cold tea, untouched, in front of her. The weight of her decision hung in the air, thick and heavy around her. She touched her phone, allowing Ian's face from the screensaver to light up the room, as it did when he was still around.

"Ian," she said aloud. "Adoption is a huge deal. It's a commitment, a promise to love and protect. I loved you most, but did I end up protecting you? Can I do this again? Can I love a child the way they deserve to be loved? Can I love a child as much as I love you?"

She wished that Ian would give her a sign. And when the light outside the kitchen door flicked, she knew that that was it. He wanted this for her.

"I won't be replacing you, my love, you know that," she said to the air. "But maybe, just maybe, I can honor your memory by giving another child a chance at love and happiness."

*

Phoebe took Friday off work. She wanted to fully commit to going to the adoption agency and learning more about the process with a social worker.

She spent most of the morning preparing the house for her parents' visit that weekend. As much as she looked forward to seeing them, she also hoped they would cancel. She wanted to focus on the adoption process. She needed to, or she would chicken out. She knew that.

Phoebe walked into the children's home with more excitement and joy flooding her veins – a feeling that she had not experienced for the past three years.

"Good afternoon," the receptionist said. "I'm Shay! How can I assist you today?"

"Hello, I'm Phoebe," she smiled. "I'm considering adoption and heard only wonderful things about your agency."

"Not a problem," Shay said. "Take this brochure for now, and I'll see which social worker is available to chat with you."

Phoebe took her brochure and looked at the photo wall covered in happy families and contagious smiles. She paged through the brochure, looking at the necessary documents that were needed in the process and everything else.

"Phoebe," Shay called a few minutes later. "Diya, one of our social workers, is ready for you! Room 4, down the hall and to the right. Good luck!"

She walked down the hall, butterflies flapping a storm in her stomach. This was it.

"Hi, Phoebe," Diya said. "Please sit down. I'm here to help you through this journey. Now, tell me, what brings you here?"

"Thank you," Phoebe said, sitting across the social worker's desk. "I lost my son, Ian, a few years ago. The pain never seems to ease. So, I'm considering adoption – to fill this void and to find purpose again. I want to be a mom again."

Diya nodded and put her glasses on as she took out a notepad.

"I am so sorry for your loss, Phoebe. Adoption is a beautiful journey but also a profound commitment."

Phoebe nodded. She knew this.

"Can you share more about what you are looking for in a child? And what kind of love do you have to offer?" Diya asked her.

"I want to provide a home filled with love, laughter, and understanding. I want to give a child the chance to grow, to be happy and loved beyond their dreams. But, if I'm being honest with you, I am scared that I won't be enough."

"Oh, Phoebe. I'm so glad you said that – this shows that you're looking for the right thing and how much it weighs on you. It's natural to feel this way. Let's work together to find the right match for you and the child. Love has a way of healing people, Phoebe. Wait and see. It will happen to you as well."

"Okay, I'm sold," Phoebe smiled. "Tell me everything I need to do."

When Phoebe got home, her parents' car sat in the driveway. She hooted to say hello as she pulled up.

"Hi!" she said, opening the car door for her mother.

"Oh, come here, you!" her mother said, wrapping her into a hug.

"Hi, Dad," Phoebe said over her mother's shoulder.

"Hi, Sweetheart," he said, taking their overnight bags out of the trunk.

*

Phoebe spent the weekend being fussed upon by her parents and adored their extra cherishing. She was worried about what would happen when she told them that she had begun the process of adopting.

"I think it's a wonderful idea," her mother said while tossing a salad for dinner that first night.

"Really? Is it not too soon?" her father asked, switching off the stove.

"No, I think that it is perfect timing," Phoebe said, spooning fried rice onto their plates. "I've been getting signs from Ian. I think he wants me to do this."

"Then, it is settled," her mother said, sitting at the table. "Do what you have to do to bring joy into your world. You deserve that and more, Sweetheart."

"Tell us what you need us to do," her father said, sitting beside her. "We'll be here for it all."

On Sunday night, Phoebe drew herself a hot bath, ready to relax her muscles for the sleep she was looking forward to. She sipped her tea as the scent of the rosemary and ylang-ylang bath bomb dulled her senses, and when she got into bed, Phoebe was ready to close her eyes.

In her sleep, Phoebe entered a dreamscape that seemed to blend memories and imagination. She walked through a misty meadow that seemed so familiar to her – it reminded her of where she had her maternity photoshoots.

Phoebe walked around the meadow, trying to find some way out. Then, she heard the distant sound of a child's laughter.

"Ian?" she whispered.

As she continued to walk around, looking for the source of the laughter, the surroundings shifted, and she found herself standing in front of an ornate door, slightly ajar. Gingerly, she pushed it open. As she pushed the door, Phoebe saw that she was standing in the adoption agency.

But this time, it was a little different from where she had been before. The room was bathed in a soft light, and the air hummed with conversation even though nobody was around.

Then, Phoebe walked up to the reception desk – where a lone photograph was standing. It was of a boy with a familiar gaze and a familiar smile.

"Who are you?" Phoebe asked the photograph.

Suddenly, the lights began to dim, and the conversations only got louder. When Phoebe turned around and looked at the photograph again, the picture was of Ian.

"Ian?" she called, looking around. "Are you here?"

And then she was thrown back into the meadow. She laid back on the grass and looked at the sky, slowly turning into a sunset.

"Is this a sign? Ian! Are you trying to tell me something?!"

And then, Phoebe woke up.

Phoebe sat up in bed, her heart pounding. The dream lingered like a ghost in her room.

The next morning, Phoebe was back at the adoption agency. Diya had told her to come back early and be ready for the next step in the process. As she walked in, her heart pounded, anticipating what lay ahead.

"Welcome back!" Shay said from her desk. "Diya is expecting you. Have a seat, and I'll check if she's free now."

"Thank you," Phoebe said.

Phoebe sat down and took her phone to look at when she saw Ian's smiling face again. She was still haunted by the dream of the previous night.

Can I really do this? she asked him in her mind. Can I really open my heart again?

Then, the breeze came in through the door, and she smiled.

Message received, she thought and smiled.

"Phoebe, Diya is ready for you."

*

Phoebe sat down across from Diya.

"How are you doing today, Phoebe?" Diya asked.

"I'm good, thank you. But I had a dream, and for some reason, it felt significant."

"Tell me more about it," Diya said. "Let's explore it."

Phoebe sat back and told Diya everything that had unfolded in the dream.

"Dreams can be mysterious, Phoebe. Sometimes, they guide us to places we have been avoiding, you know?"

"I know, I think so too. I thought I was feeling great about this all, and there have been signs from Ian telling me that this is the right thing to do. But this dream made me feel very unsettled."

"Tell me more about it."

"There was a boy in the dream, Diya. He looked just like Ian. That's all, I promise."

Diya nodded and jotted something down on her notepad.

"And you think that you're still ready to do this?" Diya asked.

"Yes," Phoebe said. "Let's just do this. The promise of loving a child is at the other end of this."

"Okay, let's get into this."

Diya reached across the desk and pulled a file from her neat stack.

"This," she told Phoebe softly, opening the file and taking a photo of the child. "This is Alex."

Phoebe's heart skipped a beat when she looked at the photograph of the boy. It was the same boy that Phoebe had seen in her dream, the precious face before it morphed into Ian's beloved face.

"Alex is eleven," Diya continued. "He came to us after a tragic accident where his parents died. He has been through a lot."

"This is the same boy I saw in my dream!" Phoebe said.

Phoebe was terrified of telling the woman what she truly felt, but she could hear it resounding within every inch of her. It's him. My Ian! It's really him!

A little while later, Phoebe sat in the family room, waiting for Diya to bring Alex to her.

She didn't understand how it was possible. But she didn't want to, either. She looked at the kid as he walked through the door with the sweetest smile on his face. She just wanted to wrap her arms around him and cry. She opened her arms, knowing that her precious boy would want to run right into them upon seeing her.

Instead, the boy entered and spoke politely, without any sign of familiarity with Phoebe.

"Hello," he said. "My name is Alex."

Alex? Phoebe wondered why her boy was using a different name.

But when she got closer to the boy, her heart sank.

It wasn't him. Of course, it wasn't him. No mother, no matter how loving, has managed to pry her child away from the hands of death.

It wasn't Ian. It was too good to be true.

"Hello, I'm Phoebe," she said, trying not to sound heartbroken.

"Phoebe really wanted to meet you," Diya told him. "So, you guys can sit here and get to know each other, okay."

They spend the next half hour sitting, talking, and stacking up Jenga pieces on the table in front of them.

"Why do you look at me like that?" Alex said.

"You remind me of someone I lost. Someone I loved deeply," Phoebe said.

After that, Alex told Phoebe more about his past. He spoke about the pain he endured and the fact that he missed his parents so deeply that it hurt him. Especially at night, when he wanted to hear his mother saying 'Good night' or have his father tell him a story about his childhood.

"We've both lost so much, Alex," Phoebe said, running her hands through his hair.

As their conversation progressed, Phoebe hesitated. She was getting along with Alex so well, and she had easily fallen into the role of Mom. But she was stressed about the fact that she could love Alex without betraying Ian's love.

"I want to be there for you, Alex, but I'm scared. Scared that I will fail you, too."

Alex looked at her for a moment, and she watched him try to string his thoughts together.

"You won't fail me. I don't think that," he said.

"Come here," Phoebe said, hugging him.

A few weeks had passed, and Phoebe had gotten into the knack of actively being a mom again. She loved being around Alex and constantly learning about him. But there were moments of doubt that crept in. She did not doubt Alex, but what she doubted was whether she was betraying Ian's memory and Ian's love.

Just before dinner, Phoebe stood outside one evening and looked at the night sky.

Is it fair to find joy again? she thought to herself. Am I betraying Ian by letting someone else into my heart?

"Alex," she called. "Dinner is ready!"

The atmosphere became tense while she was dishing out dinner.

"Is everything okay, Mom?" Alex asked her.

"Yes," Phoebe said quietly. "But I cannot help but feel guilty, Al. I'm worried that I will replace someone irreplaceable by loving you, you know?"

"I miss my family too, but I also want to be a part of yours. I want you to be my Mom."

The weight of Alex's words hangs in the air, both heartbreaking and hopeful at the same time.

*

Phoebe breathed in the scent of her body wash as she closed her eyes.

She had a flashback of a family picnic – her parents, her late husband, and Ian were there. There was laughter, and the essence of joy filled the scene. She saw all of Ian's favorite foods and how he dodged the little water balloons his grandparents threw at him. She saw herself with her husband. She saw herself with Ian. She saw herself happy.

We were so happy, she thought as she opened her eyes.

The next morning, Phoebe made a full-on English breakfast – just like Ian used to love on Saturday mornings. She hoped that Alex would enjoy it. She knew he did not enjoy the smell of bacon, but she was still learning his eating preferences.

As she took the bacon out of the frying pan and put it onto the paper towel to drain – Ian's favorite part of the entire breakfast, she let out a sob. She was beginning to fall in love with Alex, but her entire body missed Ian. And from time to time, her body would react, and she would sob with everything she had in her.

She was so focused on telling her body to stop crying that she did not realize Alex had entered the room.

"Tell me about him," Alex said, pulling a seat up at the counter across from her.

"He was like you, just older," Phoebe began.

She plated up their meals and sat down next to him.

"We were alone for the longest time because my husband had died many years ago. So, it was just Ian and I. We only had each other, and we loved that. But more than that, Alex, he used to make me laugh so much. There wasn't a day without him making me dissolve into stitches."

"Would he say jokes or just be funny?" Alex asked earnestly.

"Both!" she said. "And that was what made it special. He wouldn't try."

"Do you think I could be special like that?" he asked.

"Oh, honey. You already are," she said, kissing the top of his head.

*

A few months into their new life together, Phoebe was told that Diya would be doing a mandatory house visit, and the purpose was for her to see Phoebe and Alex living as they would on any typical day.

"Diya isn't going to take me away, right?" Alex asked her while they were sitting at the dining table. Alex was doing his homework, and Phoebe was working on her laptop.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," she said. "You are my son."

"Really?" he asked, his eyes wide. "You see me like that?"

"Alex, I always did. It's just that I did not want to erase the memory of Ian – it didn't mean that you are not my boy, too."

*

"So, how have things been?" Diya asked when she walked through the door for the house visit.

"It's been great! It was a bit rocky at first, but only because I needed to figure things out for myself. It didn't have anything to do with loving Alex. It was more the fact that I needed to remind myself that there was more than enough room in my heart for the both of them."

"I definitely appreciate your honesty, Pheobe," Diya said.

"Coffee?" Phoebe asked.

"Yes, please. So, tell me more about the transition for you. How has that been other than what you've told me?"

"Other than that, it has been seamless. Alex is a beautiful little boy. And I love how sensitive he is. He knows when I am not okay. And that's made all the difference for me."

"But he hasn't been taking care of you?"

"What?" Phoebe asked as she made the coffee. "What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry, these are the questions we have to ask. It's just mandatory."

Phoebe nodded.

"So, Alex hasn't been taking care of you?"

"He has, in the way any son would care for his mother. But not in any way that would make him my caregiver rather than me be his," Phoebe said slowly, choosing her words carefully because she did not know what Diya would take from the conversation.

"Right, okay," Diya said.

Phoebe gave Diya a cup of coffee, but she was starting to feel unsettled by the conversation. When she first met the social worker, Phoebe had liked her. She thought that she was warm and welcoming. But this time, when Diya walked through the door, there was something different about her.

Am I being too sensitive? she thought as she stirred her coffee.

"There are lots of photos of Ian around, but there's nothing of Alex?" Diya stated.

"We've taken photos, of course, but they're all digital copies for now," Phoebe said. "Do you want to see them?"

"No, that is not necessary," Diya said. "I just thought that maybe your home would be more suited to Alex by now."

"I don't understand," Phoebe said.

"It's just that, for the child to foster a good relationship with her mother, she needs to see more than just a resemblance to her son. I know you're still grieving your child, but I need you to understand that Alex needs more than to be an Ian replacement. Yes, I see the resemblance in photos and all of that. I see what you see. But it has to be more than that."

Phoebe closed her eyes for a moment. She did not know what to think. This was not supposed to be like this. She was not supposed to feel like this. She was not supposed to feel threatened. She was not supposed to feel like the woman sitting next to her was trying to take her child away.

She wouldn't be able to handle it. She could not lose another son.

"I'm not replacing Ian with Alex. Alex deserves so much more. I know that, and I do that."

"I'm not attacking you or your skills as a mother," Diya said. It's just that it's… we have to make sure that everything is in order here."

Diya began to make notes.

Two weeks later, Phoebe was sitting in the conference room at the adoption agency. She did not know how she had gotten to this point. She had gone from being Ian and Alex's mother to being alone.

It had been a week since Diya had taken Alex back into her care.

"It's temporary, Phoebe," Diya told her. "We just need to prove that you are committed to being a fit and proper mother to Alex."

"You know I am, Diya," Phoebe had said, clutching onto Alex's shoulder, and he held on tightly to her.

"I do, truly," Diya said, holding her arms open for Alex's bag. "But the entire board needs to see this, too."

"And how can I make it known? How do I prove it?"

"There will be a meeting in a week. That's when I need you to truly show up. And be the Mom that Alex needs you to be. You need to fight for him."

Phoebe nodded.

"Is this because I look like your other son?" Alex asked her, still holding tightly to her.

"No, honey. It's because they think that I'm replacing Ian with you."

"But, Mom. I know you're not. You love me."

"I do," she said. "And now, I need you to go with Diya. I need you to be brave, and I need you to know that I will fight for you."

"I'll come back?"

"Of course, you will. Remember our promise?" Phoebe asked him.

"Until the end?" he asked.

"Yes – Until the End, my boy. I will fight for you until the end."

Now, Phoebe sat with her hands in her lap. She fiddled with the buckle of her watch.

"Ms. Murray," a man said, sitting at the head of the table. "We have become aware of your connection with Ian, your deceased son. And how much alike Alex looks like him. Naturally, some ethical concerns about the potential bias in this adoption have been raised."

Phoebe locked eyes with Diya, who nodded.

"I'm not replacing anyone. This is about healing for both Alex and myself. This is a chance for both of us to have a new life," Phoebe said.

Phoebe had to sit through a series of more questions, and as the questions got more profound, she felt herself becoming more and more defensive.

"I will not deny the fact that Ian brought us together. I felt it through my dreams and signs from him in general. It's more than mere coincidence. Ian brought Alex and I together. It was fate. He is not being replaced in any way. He is the reason that Alex and I even found each other.

"Listen," Diya said. "I've met Phoebe since day one, and we have worked through this entire process together. Yes, she was grieving her child, but she has been doing so much better. And she is a good fit for Alex, who is as good a fit for her. They are a good match and give each other the healing they need."

Phoebe looked at Diya, grateful that she was fighting alongside her.

"And more than that," Diya said. "They have tragic pasts. Phoebe was in an accident, and she survived. She lost her child. Alex was in an accident, and he survived. He lost his parents. They are each other's halves at this point. They are what the other needs. They are two people who survived a horrendous tragedy."

Diya paused and waited for any reaction from the people sitting at the table. Phoebe couldn't read their expressions.

"And they have bonded through this tragedy. They found love and hope with each other again. Removing them from each other would be detrimental to both of them. Do you want that on you?"

Phoebe saw a few people shake their heads.

"I have witnessed the sincerity of Phoebe's intentions. This connection is unique. But it is genuine, and they are working through everything together. Send Alex home with his Mom," Diya said.

Phoebe sat in silence as they continued to speak over her. She pulled a thread at her skirt while she waited for them to come to some consensus.

Finally, after hours, the man who first spoke stood up.

"Ms. Murray, take your son home," he said.

That's when Phoebe allowed herself to start crying. She cried for all her pent-up emotions over the past week. She cried for the fact that she would have lost her only other chance of being a mother.

"Thank you for believing in me," she said. "Thank you for letting me love my son, Alex."

*

That night, Phoebe needed Alex to know how much she loved him. She needed him to know that she was not only being his mother for her sake but more for him. To show him the love of a mother that he once had before his own Mom was taken from him.

She sat in front of him on his bed.

"I need you to listen to me," she said.

Alex nodded.

"I have my own grief that I'm working through, okay? But I need you to know that I am your mother before all of that. You need to give me all of your grief. We will feel it together, and we will heal together. Understand?"

"Yes," he said, smiling from ear to ear. "And if you need me, we can talk about Ian, too. Okay?"

"Okay, Sweetheart," she said.

"Until the end, Mom," Alex said, shuffling over to her.

"Until the end, sweet boy."

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