Zoe's POV
I was beginning to hate the courthouse.
Not because of the building itself.
It was beautiful in an intimidating sort of way, with towering columns, polished marble floors, and ceilings so high that every footstep echoed louder than it should. The place carried the kind of grandeur that made ordinary people feel small.
But after days of coming there, I had begun to associate it with one thing only.
Pain.
Every morning I woke with a knot in my stomach that refused to loosen.
Every morning I dressed in clothes that made me look composed while my insides quietly unraveled.
Every morning I walked through metal detectors and security checkpoints wondering what new piece of my past would be dragged into the light.
Or worse—
whether today would be the day my name would be called.
Whether I would finally be asked to walk to the witness stand and speak while a room full of strangers measured every word, every pause, every tear.
