Evelyn
Days later, the morning of the hearing arrived gray and quiet.
I sat in the passenger seat of Vanessa Cole’s car as she drove us to the courthouse. The divorce attorney had been thorough — she had collected medical notes about the bruises, photographs I had taken in secret, and a clear timeline of Mark’s absences and behavior. Julian had helped me gather everything without ever once making me feel small for needing the help.
“Remember,” Vanessa said as we walked up the courthouse steps, “stay calm. Answer only what is asked. The evidence is strong.”
I nodded, my hands tightly wrapped around the strap of my bag.
Inside the courtroom, Mark already sat at the opposite table with his own lawyer. He didn’t look at me when I entered. His jaw was set in that familiar, stubborn line. T
