When my husband said our daughter wasn’t “European” enough, I knew I had to act. As I watched his world crumble, I wondered if I’d gone too far.

Peter’s words hung in the air. “I hoped Amelia would look more like me, but she’s too… brown.”

I was furious. “She’s our daughter! How can you think like this?”

Peter confessed his fear his family wouldn’t accept Amelia. I decided to teach him a lesson. I called my mom to watch Amelia for a few days.

The next day, Peter asked, “Where’s Amelia?”

“I gave her up for adoption,” I said, watching his face turn white.

“Are you insane? Where is she?” he demanded, tears in his eyes.

“At Mom’s,” I revealed. “Safe. But imagine if you had lost her forever.”

Peter broke down, realizing his mistake. “I’m so sorry. I love her. I was just scared.”

We picked up Amelia, and Peter held her, sobbing, “Daddy loves you just the way you are.”

Over the next weeks, Peter worked to change. He learned about my family’s heritage and started teaching Amelia both Norwegian and my native language.

One night, as we watched Amelia sleep, Peter said, “Thank you for not giving up on me. She’s perfect, isn’t she?”

“She really is,” I agreed.

Peter’s family eventually met Amelia and fell in love with her. In the end, love doesn’t see color — it only sees the heart.