𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭

22

Tw: mentions of assault

The trial was merely for formalities.

But you were still absolutely fucking ecstatic. Priyal had managed to find Jen and Ayla, the former coming immediately to your side after hearing that Yates was out of the picture. Jen had helped you dress for the occasion, blow-drying your hair for you as you put on makeup and tugged on a borrowed blouse, since all of your clothes were still in the house. You had tugged on some pants while leaning on her for support, your broken leg still in a cast. The hospital had lent you a wheelchair, and you were glad for it, since if you were on your two legs, you would probably have collapsed from the sheer enormity of your life.

"Are you ready?" Jen asked, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

After the whole fiasco with her and Ayla, Yates had practically held them in the hotel room for a while, making them sign some sort of contract and threatening their families and livelihoods. He was a rich bastard, what could they do but accept. You assured Jen that you harbored no hard feelings towards her or Ayla, but she was still incredibly apologetic and an appreciated, steadfast presence as the three of you prepared for court.

The evidence was damning, Priyal had assured you. And with the marriage certificate and evidence of his stalking for years, combined with the testimony of you falling from the balcony? His bail would be too much even for his mother to afford. Hopefully.

The courthouse was a bustle of activity, with more people than you'd seen in a year. At the sight of your creaky wheelchair and Priyal's steamed suit, reporters began to crowd around you, hurling questions at you like ticking time bombs, more than a fair share of spittle landing on your face. You shielded your face from the bright flash of cameras and urged Jen to continue wheeling you on.

After Yates had been taken into custody, there was an entire thrall and army of hashtags about him, tweet after tweet bashing the people who used to bash you and others saying that they always knew something was off about him. You enjoyed every single one, even re-tweeting them on your followed, official account. Most people were supportive, sending you warm wishes and making edits of Yates in jail with a frown on his face. In fact, you almost wanted to visit him, if not for the fact that memories of him practically repulsed you.

"Not really," you whispered back to your friend, trying to steel yourself.

You'd thrown yourself off a balcony– what more was standing before a panel of old white judges? As if in response, your broken leg throbbed.

You watched Priyal as she waded into the throngs of people, holding a hand up, her face a divine mask of patience. She was incredible in moments like these: effortlessly poised, like she had all the answers that she'd never reveal, an omniscient being. Many people turned on her too, and you had even heard that some of her old clients had cut ties with her. Still, the brunette kept a brave face throughout and told you that not once had she regretted doing this. In her words, she would be the pawn of 'Big Law' no longer.

"All questions will be answered after the court case. My client declines questions right now. Please refrain from upsetting her."

Soon enough, the crowd parted so that you could be wheeled through, a doorman letting you into the building. A cool wave of air washed over you.

The courthouse was an incredibly refined and tasteful building. Another hour passed as you waited for the proceedings to be set up. Priyal began to coach you on how to behave, her voice turning high-strung and nervy.

"Don't, and I seriously mean it, do not let him get on your nerves. The court values professionalism and from you? A girl from a low income background who is jailing her rich husband? That's gonna be in the back of their minds," she practically raved. "I know. It's awful and I agree with you, but the best thing you can do is be calm and collected and give your piece. Rationally. I will take care of the rest."