Star-Crossed ✔️

Epilogue & Author's Note

- E P I L O G U E -
- 2 YEARS LATER -

The truth was a funny thing.

A constant, maleable thing that can make or break one's conscience. There were two sides to every story, as they said, but only one of them was true. It was a shame that truth could be skewed, twisted, and weaponized, since the truth was all we had. And even though one side of the story may have been a curdled lie, it was up to the beholder to determine who the naysayer was.

My boyfriend wasn't good under pressure. He could handle public speaking. Being under a spotlight didn't phase him. But to hold the power to ruin someone's life that they'd built for themself from the ground up felt like a burden in his hands. He didn't like to be responsible for anyone's downfall, may it have been himself or somebody that deserved the worst fate imaginable. It was his Achilles' heel.

I watched Noah from the gallery. He was wearing a three piece suit, a gift that I'd had tailored for him in hopes that he'd feel confident going up there. My stomach turned for him; he looked petrified. He'd just undergone his third round of brutal, relentless questioning, having to recount years of trauma he'd tried to bury. But he got through it swimmingly and I couldn't wait to tell him that.

Noah cleared his throat and looked over the court room, purposefully avoiding my gaze. I knew an encouraging smile would just make him more anxious. He was afraid of letting me down, which was just ridiculous.

It was quiet as all parties made sure they were finished before sending Noah on his way. He swallowed once, glanced at his lawyer, then nodded. "I'd like to address the defendant directly, if that's okay," he said, eyes immediately meeting mine. I pressed my lips into a hard line, trying to mentally will him my strength. I knew he was running low.

"Very well," Judge Paterson said, sliding his glasses off of his nose.

Noah probably couldn't see it from where he was, but I was sure that the judge was on his side. I knew he wasn't allowed to be biased, but you could tell by the way he looked at MacNeil versus the way he listened so intently to Noah's testimony, there was a divide . . . and His Honor was on our side.

I was holding my breath. Noah stood still while his lawyer brought the judge a piece of paper, slightly crinkled from the months Noah poured into it, and made sure he was allowed to read it. I'd watched him stare at it many times in the recent week, as if he were questioning the validity of his words. I assured him that they were exactly that: his word.

His voice started strong as he read. "David," he began, glancing up toward the right side of the room where a disheveled MacNeil sat in a suit. "When I met you, I thought you were a superhero. It was silly, but at the time, I thought, 'A man with the ability to make anything I wanted appear out of thin air? He must have superpowers.' I was eight years old."

It was silent in the courtroom. You could hear a pin drop.

"I didn't have a dad growing up, so I thought having your attention and praise was the next best thing. I looked up to you. I trusted you," Noah said, and that was when his voice began to waver. I sat forward in my seat and clasped my hands in front of my mouth. "You took that trust and used it for something evil. I was just a kid, but that didn't bother you. I was a pawn, a plaything. I wasn't a person to you."

In my periphery, I saw MacNeil shift in his seat when Noah's eyes rose from the paper. Good, I thought. Squirm like the disgusting insect you are.