In court?
It was so quick I almost missed it, but it was there, a tiny gesture of reassurance that said, “You’re okay, I’ve got this.”
I took a deep breath.
Okay.
Okay, you can do this.
Just answer his questions.
Don’t spiral.
Don’t mention ninjas.
Or butter knives.
“Mrs. Lyon,” Anthony began, his voice calm and measured. “What does a typical day look like for you and Megan?”
I felt my shoulders relax slightly. “I wake Megan up at seven. We have breakfast together—usually something she helps make, like pancakes or eggs. Then I get her ready for the day. Sometimes we bake, or do art projects, or go to the park. I make dinner most nights. We read together before bed.”
“That sounds very structured.”
“It is. Gabriel, Dr. Lyon, values routine. It helps Megan feel secure.”
Anthony nodded, pacing slightly. “And you’ve adapted to that structure?”
“Yes. I mean, I’m not naturally the most organized person”—understatement of the century—“but I’ve learned. Because it’s what Megan needs.”
“You’ve learned,” Anthony repeated. “You’ve adapted your own habits to better serve this child’s needs.”
“Yes.”
He stopped pacing, turning to face me fully.
“Mrs. Lyon, I have one more question for you.”
Okay.
One more question.
You can do this.
“Do you love my client?” Anthony asked. “Do you love Gabriel?”
The courtroom went silent.
What? Wait... WHAT?
He did NOT just ask... We didn’t prep this. We didn’t talk about this.
I’m not ready for this question.
My eyes flew to Gabriel.
He was staring at me, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—his eyes were intense, focused, waiting.
Oh God.
