You walk into the courthouse in Madrid with one folder and a heartbeat that won’t slow down.
You tell yourself you’re prepared, even though prepared feels like a costume that doesn’t quite fit.
The marble floors echo under your shoes, every step sounding louder than it should, like the building is amplifying your fear.
You don’t have a lawyer at your side, no suited ally whispering strategy, no confident handshake that says you’re safe.
You have your paperwork, your memories, and the decision you finally made after twelve years of being shrunk.
Your name is Gracia Morales, you’re thirty-six, and you’ve spent months learning how to breathe while your marriage dissolves around you.
You’ve rehearsed this day in your head a hundred times, and in every version Javier looks the same: polished, smug, untouchable.
What you didn’t rehearse is how much his confidence would sting when you see it up close.
Or how quickly your life can change in a courtroom when the right person enters.
Continued on the next page
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