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Sitting at my desk, I felt a whirlwind of emotions stirring inside me. After a year away from the courtroom, today marked my return, and it wasn’t just any case—it was Meera’s. A woman caught in a cycle of domestic violence, her story was one I couldn’t afford to get wrong. The papers in front of me felt heavy, each page a reminder of the weight of her life in my hands.
“Are we ready?” Kaira asked, glancing up from her laptop. Her brow was furrowed with concern.
“As ready as we can be,” I replied, trying to project confidence I didn’t entirely feel. “We have the evidence, but we need to present it in a way that truly conveys what Meera has endured.”
Kaira nodded, but I could see the worry in her eyes. “Your father being here adds a lot of pressure, doesn't it?”
I swallowed hard, the truth of her words hitting me. My acha, Imran Rahman, was a retired judge—a figure of authority and respect in the legal world. The thought of him sitting there, watching me, made my stomach churn. “I know. But this is about Meera. She deserves her voice.”
As if on cue, the courtroom doors swung open, and the judge entered. The air grew thick with tension, and my heart raced. I stood, feeling the eyes of the room on me, and steadied myself.
“Court is now in session,” the judge announced, his voice deep and commanding.
“Your Honor,” I began, my voice wavering at first but gaining strength as I continued. “My name is Amara Rahman, and I represent Meera Gupta. Today, we will present evidence of the domestic violence she has suffered at the hands of her husband, Raghav.”
As I laid out the facts, I felt the weight of my father’s gaze. His expression was serious, a mix of concern and pride. Aashna, my amma, sat beside him, her hands clasped tightly, anxiety etched on her face. Aadhil and Sanam, my bhai and bhabhi, were there too, their support palpable.
“This is not just a personal issue; it is a crime that impacts families and communities,” I continued. “Meera deserves to live without fear. We cannot let silence protect abusers any longer.”
With each word, I could feel the room shift. The judge was listening, and that gave me hope. “Domestic violence is a silent epidemic,” I pressed on, my determination rising. “Today, we stand together to break that silence.”
When it was time for Meera to testify, my heart raced. I had worked hard to prepare her for this moment, but I knew firsthand how difficult it could be to share such intimate pain. As she stood, trembling yet resolute, I felt a swell of pride. This was her moment.
“Every day felt like a battle,” Meera began, her voice trembling. “I was scared to go home, scared of the man I once loved. I felt trapped.”
