The day Benny's trial commenced, Declan and I, as involved parties, naturally had to attend.
One side of her face was swollen, and the corner of her eye was bruised, as if she had been taught a lesson.
Her days in the detention center had not been easy. It was a fitting consequence of her actions, and I certainly felt no pity.
My lawyer understood my stance and pressed relentlessly, leaving no room for retreat.
After the trial concluded, Declan waited for me at the entrance. He paced anxiously, clutching something tightly in his hand. When he saw me, he grabbed my sleeve.
Opening his hand, he revealed a small silver ring lying in his palm. We had made it ourselves in a workshop in Paris. Later, when our lives improved, we bought many expensive rings, but I still kept that one safe
