Until I made the mistake of looking in the gallery. My eyes caught on Liam and Sofia and wouldn’t move.
Sofia was hiding behind her hands, but I could see the tears staining the sleeves of her sweater. Liam had a familiar, hollow look in his eyes—an awful mixture of hope and terror as a stranger in a suit promised to save their father.
Me.
I was the stranger in a suit.
My palms slipped on the edge of the lectern, slick with sweat, even though the air in the courtroom felt frigid. When my voice broke, it echoed too loud in the microphone, sharp and humiliating, a crack that felt like it split me open.
I pulled my gaze away, but it fell on Marcus. He had the same defeated posture my father had in those final court appearances. The same way of holding his shoulders, like he was trying to make himself smaller, like he could shrink into nothingness if it would spare his family the pain that was coming.
The words died in my throat.
Judge Morrison waited. The prosecutor waited. Marcus’s attorney waited.
I couldn’t remember what came next in my argument. All I could see was my father in his orange jumpsuit, the way hecouldn’t meet my eyes when the judge gave him over ten years more than we expected.
“Ms. Lewis?” the judge prompted.
I tried to continue, but I couldn’t find my voice. “I … the defendant’s family circumstances …” I looked at Liam and Sofia again. Liam was crying now, wiping the tears quietly with the sleeve of his sweater.
I was going to fail them. All my expertise, all my research, all my promises—none of it mattered. Marcus was going to get the maximum sentence because I wasn’t good enough.
“Your Honor, I apologize, I need a moment.” My hands were shaking as I shuffled my papers.
Judge Morrison declared a recess. I barely made it to the bathroom before I completely fell apart.
Marcus got fifteen years, same as my dad. It was less than prosecution wanted, but it might as well have been a death sentence. He’ll be fifty-six when he gets out.
Liam and Sofia will graduate college while their father sits in a cell. They could get married and have children before he’s released. They’ll build their lives around the same father-shaped hole I’ve failed to build one around. And Marcus will miss all those years of helping with homework, seeing them off to dances and parties, giving them hugs and lectures when they need them.
Prison will destroy him.
Liam and Sofia will never feel whole again.
They’ll never feel safe or seen again. Maybe they’ll commit themselves to being happy, but it’ll be a lie to cover how much they hurt all the time.
I drop to the kitchen table, bundled in a winter hat and blankets and hold my head in my hands. Why did I think I could do this? That somehow I was the one who could make adifference in all these people’s lives? I’m not good enough to save anyone.
And I’m not honest enough to deserve love.
The thought arrives fully formed, sharp as a blade.
Oliver told me what happened to his brother. Told me how the justice system failed his family. And I said nothing. Did nothing. Just nodded along like I understood, when I knew he would see me as part of the problem.
I worked for Mercy in Justice. I didn’t just help reduce sentences for people like Darren Murphy, I literally helped HIM—and I would do it again.
Why didn’t I put the pieces together before today? Why couldn’t I have told him?
Further proof of why I don’t deserve love. When Oliver needed honesty from me—when he was vulnerable enough to share his deepest wounds—I stayed silent.
I told myself it wasn’t the right time. That we were passing strangers. That it wasn’t relevant because I’d already quit.
But it was relevant. And I knew it. And I hid it anyway.
Just like I hid my ankle. Just like I hide everything that might make someone reject me.
No wonder he pulled away. No wonder he disappeared. Who could love someone who tries to hide all her mistakes and ugliness?
