You glance over your shoulder. Damián is laughing at something Ruth says, one hand resting possessively at the small of her back as if he cannot wait another minute to display what he stole.
“Good,” you answer. “I’m not here to pull anything back.”
Javier studies your face, perhaps looking for hesitation, perhaps looking for grief. What he finds instead is a calm so complete it almost frightens him. He gives one short nod and leads you toward the courtroom.
The hearing itself is quick, almost offensively quick.
Years of marriage reduced to signatures, official language, and a judge who has seen too many shattered promises to care about the finer shades of heartbreak. Damián plays the role of the reasonable man. He is gracious, measured, regretful in all the right places. Ruth sits in the back row, dressed like a victory speech, her chin lifted high enough to suggest she believes the building itself should admire her.
You say very little.
That unsettles him more than arguments would have.
When the judge asks whether the agreement has been reviewed and accepted by both parties, you answer yes. When asked whether there is any objection, you say no. When asked whether you understand the terms, you meet the judge’s gaze and say, “Perfectly.”
Damián relaxes at that. You can almost hear the false certainty settling into his bones.
Then the judge announces the dissolution of your marriage.
