Zoë Rivas stood outside the courtroom, her heart racing. The trial was about to begin, and the weight of her assault case pressed down on her like a boulder. She glanced around, searching for a familiar face, someone who understood the turmoil she felt.
And there he was—Zig Novak, leaning against the hallway wall. His dark eyes met hers, and she saw a mix of concern and determination. They hadn't always been friends, but something had shifted between them during those chaotic high school years.
"Zig," Zoë called out, her voice shaky. "I couldn't have done it without you. You saved my life. Literally."
He pushed himself off the wall, his expression softening. "Hey, we're in this together. You're not alone."
They walked away from the courtroom, away from the prying eyes and the whispers. Zoë's mind raced with memories—the bus ride, the assault, the aftermath. Zig had been there, a silent witness to her pain.
"Remember that day on the bus?" Zoë asked, her fingers tracing the scar on her wrist. "When you found me in the back, crying, ready to give up?"
Zig nodded, his jaw clenched. "Yeah. You were holding those damn pills, Zoë. I thought you were—"
"Overdosing?" Zoë finished for him. "I was. But you stopped me. You told me no one deserves to be a victim. And you...you talked me out of it."
He looked away, his gaze fixed on the courtroom door. "I had my own demons, Zoë. Dealing drugs, risking my life. But that day, I realized we were both survivors."
She reached for his hand, their fingers intertwining. "We've come a long way since then. Friends, allies. Novas, they used to call us."
Zig chuckled. "Yeah, Zoëmund. Novak and Rivas, fighting side by side."
As they stood there, waiting for the trial to begin, Zoë felt a surge of gratitude. Zig had been her lifeline, her unexpected hero. And maybe, just maybe, they'd find justice together.
The courtroom doors swung open, and Zoë took a deep breath. Zig squeezed her hand, and they stepped inside—to face the past, the pain, and the possibility of healing.
