The city exhaled after the hearing.
Not in relief,
in anticipation.
Aaliyah felt it as she stepped out of the courthouse, the air sharp against her lungs, the low roar of voices swelling just beyond the security perimeter. Cameras flashed. Reporters shouted her name, their questions overlapping, indistinct.
She didn't answer.
She walked.
Every step felt deliberate, grounded, like she was teaching her body a new language, one that didn't shrink, didn't apologize, didn't rush to explain.
Inside the car, the door closed with a muted thud, sealing the noise outside.
Aaliyah leaned back against the seat, heart pounding now that adrenaline had nowhere else to go.
"You did well," Elise said from the front passenger seat. "Very well."
Aaliyah nodded, throat tight. "I kept waiting for my voice to shake."
"But it didn't," Elise replied. "That matters."
Aaliyah stared out the window as the city slid past. "I was terrified."
