From the start (Joel Miller x Reader) (EDITED)

Chapter 16

A few days after the trial, the world still felt off-kilter—like you were drifting just slightly out of sync with reality. You moved through your apartment like a ghost, folding laundry you didn't remember washing, reheating coffee you didn't really want. Your mind hadn't stopped racing since the verdict, and though you'd technically "won," the victory felt gray and hollow.

Your phone rang, the sudden noise slicing through the silence like a blade.

Joel.

You froze, staring at the screen. That name—one you'd searched for in your notifications for weeks—now felt like a punch to the gut. A cruel trick from the universe.

Your thumb hovered over the red button. Then, almost against your own will, you hit green.

"Hello?" you said, your voice clipped, guarded.

There was a pause. "Hey," Joel said finally. His voice was familiar. Too familiar. "I just... I wanted to check in. Are you okay?"

You blinked. The audacity of the question made your breath catch.

"Am I okay?" you repeated slowly, a dry laugh catching in your throat. "You disappear for months, no explanation, no goodbye, and now you're asking if I'm okay?"

"I know," he said, voice low, regretful. "I handled it badly. I've been dealing with a lot—"

"And I haven't?" you snapped. "Joel, I went through hell. I was assaulted, dragged through court, and publicly smeared by your stepson and your wife. And you—what? Vanished into thin air?"

"You left me to face it all alone." your voice cracking.

There was a momentary pause on the line, the silence speaking volumes. Frustration mingled with hurt as you hung up, unable to contain the surge of emotions bubbling within you.

A week after Dani's trial concluded, you finally exhaled. It was over—at least the part that involved courtrooms and testimonies. The emotional residue lingered, but tonight wasn't for unpacking trauma. Tonight was for reclaiming joy.

Emma had insisted on hosting a small get-together, a "verdict victory party," as she called it in her overly enthusiastic group text. You had hesitated at first, unsure whether you were in the mood for celebration. But when you arrived at her cozy apartment, decked out in soft fairy lights and peppered with friends' familiar faces, you knew you'd made the right call.

"Get over here, you courtroom badass!" Emma grinned, pulling you into a tight hug that smelled of vanilla candles and cheap prosecco.

You laughed into her shoulder. "You're ridiculous."

"No, I'm right," she said, pulling back and scanning your face. "You did something incredibly brave. You deserve tonight."

The living room was glowing—both from the warm lighting and the energy of everyone inside it. Balloons bobbed lazily above heads, and someone had made a playlist full of early 2000s hits that brought a nostalgic warmth to the room.

Emma raised her glass dramatically, standing on tiptoe. "To justice served!" she declared.

"Finally!" someone echoed from the kitchen.

You lifted your glass, the prosecco fizzing gently. "To moving forward," you said softly, but your friends heard you. They clinked their glasses against yours with knowing eyes.

"So," Emma said later, pulling you to the couch like a talk show host about to spill the tea, "how intense was the trial? Like, on a scale from 'mild courtroom drama' to 'full-on Law & Order meltdown'?"