The courtroom was quiet, not the kind of quiet that feels peaceful, but the kind that makes your heart thump louder than it should. My son, Zaden, sat just a few feet away from me, his little legs swinging off the edge of the wooden bench. He was only eight, but his face was older that day, like he’d aged in the minutes we’d been sitting there.
Damian, my ex-husband, stood tall beside his lawyer. He wore that same smirk he always did when he thought he was winning. He looked straight ahead, not at me, not at our son.
The judge adjusted his glasses, flipped through a few papers, and finally looked up. “Mr. Carter,” he said, “you’re asking for a change in custody. You’ve told this court your son has expressed a desire to live with you. Is that correct?”
Damian nodded confidently. “Yes, Your Honor. Zaden told me he’s not comfortable in his current living situation. He said he wants to live with me full-time.”
My stomach turned. I looked at Zaden. His hands were folded tightly in his lap. I wanted to reach for him, to shield him somehow, but I couldn’t move.
