Where Her Voice Is Taken

Chapter 7: The Quiet Aftermath

The courtroom doors closed behind them with a heavy, echoing thud. Leigh’s legs felt weak as she stepped into the hallway, her hand clutching Skylar’s tightly. Sîl walked a few steps ahead, his jaw set, his shoulders stiff with barely contained tension. Elowen brought up the rear, her silver braid swaying as she moved with the steady determination of someone who refused to let despair win.

They hadn’t lost. At least not yet.

The hearing had ended with a promise: the judge would review the evidence, including Skylar’s drawings, and issue a decision within the week. It wasn’t the resolution Leigh had hoped for, but it was better than nothing. For now, Nîpisîy remained in CPS custody, her absence a gaping hole that Leigh could feel in her very bones.

The silence among them was suffocating as they walked out into the bright afternoon sun. Leigh winced against the light, her eyes burning from hours of tears. The courthouse steps stretched out before her like an insurmountable mountain, each step a reminder of the uphill battle they were fighting.

Sîl stopped at the bottom of the steps, turning to face her. “We did everything we could,” he said, his voice low and strained. “Now it’s up to the judge.”

Leigh met his gaze, her chest tightening. “But what if it’s not enough?” she whispered. Her voice trembled, barely audible over the hum of traffic in the distance.

Elowen stepped forward, placing a hand on Leigh’s shoulder. “You have to trust the process,” she said firmly. “You’ve shown them the truth. That’s all you can do.”

Skylar stood quietly beside her mother, clutching her sketchpad like a lifeline. She hadn’t said much during the hearing, her confidence faltering under the weight of the judge’s gaze. But Leigh had seen the way the judge had studied her drawings—his expression softening as he flipped through each page. For a brief moment, she had felt hope.

Back at home, the weight of uncertainty pressed down on them like a storm cloud. Leigh sat at the kitchen table, staring at the stack of documents and notes that had consumed their lives for weeks. Sîl paced the living room, his restless energy filling the space. Skylar retreated to her room, burying herself in her art. Even Elowen, the unyielding pillar of strength, seemed quieter than usual, her movements slower as she prepared dinner.

The tension between Leigh and Sîl continued to simmer, threatening to boil over. Their conversations had grown shorter, sharper, filled with frustration and unspoken fears. Leigh knew he was hurting just as much as she was, but their grief seemed to push them apart instead of bringing them together.

One evening, as the house grew dark and quiet, Leigh found herself alone in the living room. She stared at the family photos on the wall—images of smiles and laughter that felt like relics of a distant past. She reached out, touching a photo of Nîpisîy’s chubby cheeks and bright eyes. “I miss you,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I miss you so much.”

Sîl entered the room, his footsteps hesitant. He stood beside her, his gaze fixed on the same photo. “I do too,” he said softly. “More than I can put into words.”

Leigh turned to him, her eyes filled with tears. “We have to stick together, Sîl,” she said, her voice trembling. “We can’t let this tear us apart.”

He nodded, his expression pained but resolute. “I know,” he said. “But it’s hard, Leigh. It’s so damn hard.”

She reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly. “We’ll get through this,” she said. “We have to.”

In Skylar’s room, the light from her desk lamp cast warm shadows across the walls. Her latest sketch sat unfinished on the desk—a drawing of her family, standing together with Nîpisîy cradled in her mother’s arms. Skylar stared at the image, her heart aching. She wanted to believe in the happy ending she was drawing, but doubt gnawed at her.

Elowen knocked softly on the door before stepping inside. “You’ve been quiet,” she said, her voice gentle. “How are you feeling?”

Skylar shrugged, her gaze fixed on the sketch. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s hard to be hopeful when everything feels so… broken.”

Elowen sat down beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “It’s okay to feel that way,” she said. “Hope doesn’t mean ignoring the pain. It means holding onto the possibility of something better.”

Skylar nodded slowly, her grip on her pencil tightening. “Do you think the judge will understand?” she asked. “Do you think he’ll see how much we love her?”

“I think love is hard to ignore,” Elowen replied. “Especially when it’s as strong as yours.”

As the days passed, the family waited for the judge’s decision with a mix of dread and hope. Leigh found herself watching the road every evening, half expecting Seren Draycott and Caldor Fenn to show up unannounced, ready to deliver another blow. But the road remained empty, and the house remained quiet.

When the call finally came, Leigh felt her heart stop as the phone rang. She reached for it with trembling hands, her pulse pounding in her ears. “Hello?” she said, her voice barely audible.

Marcel’s voice was steady on the other end. “I have news,” he said. “Are you ready to hear it?”

Leigh’s grip on the phone tightened as she nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. “I’m ready,” she said.