I hugged her tightly.
“No, sweetheart. You did everything right.”
We went back to the kitchen, tied on our aprons, and started baking chocolate chip cookies like it was any normal day.
Emma licked the spoon while I pretended not to notice her sneaking extra chocolate into the batter.
That night, when I tucked her into bed, she wrapped her arms around my neck and whispered:
“Mom, you’re both my mom and my dad.”
And somehow, that meant more than any courtroom victory or social media argument ever could.