The house was filled with balloons, streamers, and the sweet scent of vanilla frosting. I had been planning the day for weeks, wrapping presents late at night, ordering a cake with his favorite blue-and-gold design, and stringing fairy lights across the living room so that when the candles were lit, the glow would feel almost magical.

It was my adopted son’s tenth birthday. Or so I thought.

He sat at the head of the table, his dark eyes fixed on the cake in front of him. The candles flickered, waiting for him to make a wish, while my husband and I clapped softly, encouraging him to blow them out. But instead of leaning forward, he just stared. Continues…