“It’ll help if you’re home,” he said quickly. “We’ll have a better chance.”
He had never begged before. That should have been my warning.
A week later, I resigned. When I came home, Joshua wrapped me in a hug so tight it felt like he might never let go.
We spent evenings on the couch filling out forms, preparing for home studies. He was relentless, focused in a way that felt almost urgent.
One night, he found their profile.
Four-year-old twins, Matthew and William. Don’t they look like they belong here?”
“They look scared,” I said softly.
He squeezed my hand. “Maybe we could be enough for them.”
“I want to try.”
He emailed the agency that same night.
The first time we met the boys, I kept glancing at Joshua.
He crouched down to Matthew’s level and held out a dinosaur sticker.
“Is this your favorite?” he asked.
Matthew barely nodded, eyes fixed on his brother.
William whispered, “He talks for the both of us.”
Then he looked at me, as if measuring whether I was safe. I knelt beside them and said, “That’s okay. I talk a lot for Joshua.”
My husband laughed—real, light, happy. “She’s not kidding, bud.”
Matthew gave a small smile. William leaned closer to him
