Layla's pov
The day of Mark's judgement was finally here. The court would finally convict him of his crime.
The courtroom was cold.
Not just from the aggressive air conditioning that seeped through the vents, but from the stillness—the kind that made your skin prickle and your heartbeat echo. The kind that wrapped around your ribs and squeezed.
I sat in the front row, my hands clutched tightly in my lap, fingers twisting together until the skin went white. My legs were tense, knees pressed so close they ached. I was still. Too still. But my heart was anything but calm. It thundered like it was trying to claw its way out of my chest.
Damian sat beside me, a statue carved from stone. His hand hovered near mine, but he didn’t touch me. He knew I wouldn’t want that right now. He underst
