The courtroom felt heavier than usual, as though every word spoken carried a weight none of us could see. My son, Zaden, sat beside me with a calmness that didn’t match his eight years. His feet barely touched the floor, yet the way he straightened his back showed a quiet strength. Across the room, Damian — my ex-husband — stood tall and confident, convinced his request for full custody would go unquestioned. When the judge asked him whether Zaden truly wished to live with him, Damian answered with the certainty of someone who believed his version of the story would be enough. But beneath that surface, I sensed how fragile the moment really was, and my heart pounded as I waited for what would come next.
When the judge turned his attention to Zaden, the room grew still. “Is that true, son?” he asked politely. “Do you want to live with your father instead?” The question floated in the air, gentle in tone but heavy with implication. I wanted to reach out and shield my son from the pressure of choosing between parents, yet I knew this was something he needed to navigate in his own way. Zaden looked down for a moment, as if gathering courage from somewhere deep within. Then, slowly and carefully, he stood. Instead of answering immediately, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his small silver phone — a device he used mostly for games and music, not moments like this. “Your Honor,” he said softly, “may I play something from last night?”
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