Comments poured in. You’re so brave. Some people are truly cruel. You deserve better. I watched 30 more seconds, then closed it. Let him perform. Attention is the drug he’s been addicted to for years, and I don’t sell that anymore.
I went back to my coffee, deleted the message, and opened my half-finished book. On the day of the hearing that morning, I chose my clothes carefully. Black slacks, a white button-down, minimal jewelry, professional, clean. I tied my hair back the way I used to before long shifts, then drove to the county family court downtown.
David was waiting by the entrance in a gray suit and carrying his worn leather briefcase, looking exactly like the kind of lawyer people hope for when their life is falling apart. Ready? He asked. Ready?
We walked in. The smell of old wood mixed with industrial cleaner. Footsteps echoing across the tile floor. We took the elevator, rode up to the third floor, then walked down a hallway lined with long wooden benches, the kind that had witnessed thousands of endings. At the door of 3C, I inhaled deeply. The courtroom was smaller than I imagined.
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a cold, flat tone across the room. The wooden benches, polished smooth by countless desperate hands, looked heavy and solemn, carrying the sense that there was no turning back.
Wyatt was already seated at the left table. His lawyer, a young man barely 30, his suit slightly too big, sat beside him. Wyatt looked thinner than the last time I saw him. His shirt was wrinkled, his eyes sunken. He didn’t look up when I entered. Ashley sat behind him, arms crossed, gaze sharp like a blade. She was dressed neatly, as if auditioning for the role of devoted protector of the family in some cheap play.
David and I sat at the right table. He arranged his documents, opened his notebook, and waited. At exactly 9:05, the clerk called out, “All rise.” We stood. The judge entered. A woman in her late 60s, gray eyes, sharp as steel, hair pulled back, her presence instantly silencing the room. She reminded me of the veteran nurses who once trained me, direct, grounded, without unnecessary words.
