**A Remarkable Case**
«Your Honour, I withdraw my financial claim against the defendant,» Thomas said quietly. A murmur of confusion rippled through the courtroom.
The judge, accustomed to all manner of surprises, raised an eyebrow.
«Mr. Wilkins, you understand this decision wont affect the verdict but will forfeit your right to compensation?»
«I understand.»
Emily Carterthough young, her colleagues always addressed her formallycontinued typing without a flicker of emotion. After five years in this job, shed stopped being shocked by human pettiness or foolishness. Her role was to record it all dispassionately, like a train conductor hauling carriages of other peoples dramas.
The case against Lucy H. was the kind the press loved. A con artist whod expertly tricked «suitors» on dating sites. Four men, none of whom had ever met her, sent large sums to her account. Not one made it to a first date. To one, she lied about family in a car crash; to another, that her ex was taking everything in the divorce; a third got a sob story about a sick child
«Whats new?» Emily thought as she prepared the files. Four grown men, seemingly successful, had played the white knight, believing money could rescue a damsel and win true love. In reality, theyd been messaging a married mother of three.
Now they were all herethe defendant, the victims. Three sat rigid with bitterness, demanding repayment, their words sharp with venom. They werent wrong. The law was on their side. Emily mechanically noted the usual phrases: «emotional distress,» «deception,» «fraudulent intent.»
Then there was Thomas Wilkins, sitting slightly apart. No anger, no pity in his posture. When he waived his claim, the room fell silent. One of the men spun around.
«Are you mad? She played you for a fool! That money probably bought her husband a new phone!»
Thomas looked at him with a quiet sadness.
«I know. But shes got three kids. Let the money go to them. I dont need it back.»
Emily glanced up, startled. Generosity like that was rare in these walls. She studied his handsrough from welding work, folded calmly on his kneesand his eyes, weary but without malice. In a world where everyone fought for scraps, hed simply let go.
Later, a victims lawyer shook his head.
«Total romantic, that fourth one. Naïve as a child.»
Usually silent, Emily countered, «Not naïve. Strong. The kind of strength money cant buy.»
Everyone fell quiet. Theyd never heard «Iron Emily» speak like that. Even she was surprised.
In the following days, she caught herself watching himhow intently he listened, how his gaze sometimes lingered on the window, as if searching the grey sky for answers no one else had asked.
On the final day, after sentencing, he lingered in the corridor, looking lost. Emily stepped out.
«Need directions?» she asked flatly.
«Ahjust got turned around.»
«Exits that way.»
«Thanks.»
He walked off, but she called after him.
«Thomas?»
He turned, surprised.
«You were right,» she said, her voice unsteady. «About the kids. That was decent of you.»
He studied her.
«You know, Emily» He hesitated.
«Em,» she offered.
«Em. Kindness doesnt often get noticed here. Thanks for seeing it.»
He left. She watched him go, realising her long-dormant heart had just skipped a beat.
Then came the rain. A downpour just as Thomas stepped outside. He paused under the awning, debating whether to sprint for the bus.
A voice behind him:
«Weve got an official umbrella. Meant for documents, but I reckon itll do for a decent bloke.»
It was Em, holding a black umbrella, her expression unreadable.
«Dont want to hold you up,» he said.
«My shifts over. Im heading to the park. If youre going that way»
They walked side by side, careful not to brush shoulders. The silence was comfortable.
«You always stick up for victims like that?» he asked.
«Never,» she admitted. «Youre the first who didnt play by the script. It got to me.»
«Probably daft of me.»
«Rare. And rare things matter.»
At the park, the rain eased to a drizzle.
«Fancy a walk?» he asked. «If youve got time.»
She hesitated only a second. *»Breach of protocol, Emily Carter,»* she thoughtthen nodded.
Thomas gazed at the clearing sky. She waited, letting him gather his thoughts.
«First time thiss happened,» he said abruptly. «People usually think Im odd.»
«Because you didnt turn bitter,» she murmured. «Nowadays, thats practically eccentric.»
He eyed her.
«And you? Think Im a nutter?»
«I think youre real. Thats priceless. In my job, real is rarer than hens teeth.»
After a pause, he asked, «Want to know why? Why I fell for her lies?»
She nodded.
He sighed.
«Started and ended at school. Her name was Lily. What I felt wasnt just loveshe was everything. Light, beauty, the unattainable. We were *that* couple. Carried her books, danced at prom I was sure itd last forever. Even convinced everyone else. We were local legendsthe perfect pair.»
«Then she left. Went to a top uni, married a classmate. Sent me a postcardjust a London skyline and three words: *Sorry. Its better this way.*»
«Everything crumbled. Didnt drink, didnt rage. Just went numb. Became a weldergood job for hiding behind a mask and noise. Built walls around my heart, but inside? Still that daft boy who believed in the one.»
«Then I saw *her* photo onlinethe con artist. Looked like Lily. But the caption *Still believe in love.* Pathetic, right? I messaged her. And she wrote back all the things Id waited years to hearforever, loyalty, something real. The key to my locked-up heart. I ignored the red flags because I *needed* to believe the fairy tale wasnt a lie. Needed proof that kind of love existed.»
«Funny thing? The trial didnt punish meit freed me. Seeing her in courtjust a scared, pitiful womanshattered the illusion. Lilys ghost finally left me. The money? Payment for an exorcism. Pricey, but effective.»
He fell silent, bracing for judgement. Instead, Em placed her hand over his. Hers was warm and steady.
«Thank you for telling me,» she said softly. «Now I get it. Youre not odd. Youre true to yourself.»
***
At work, nobody called her «Em.» She was always «Miss Carter»strict, silent, all business. No personal life. So when colleagues spotted her with Thomaswaiting for her after shiftseyebrows rose.
Judge Margaret Hayes, a woman whose glare could halt criminals mid-step, broke the silence first:
«Well, colour me shocked. Thought Miss Carter had a filing cabinet for a heart. Now shes courting a victim with the conscience of a saint.»
Her colleague, Judge Ian Murray, smirked.
«With his naivety, hes more like a defendant under excessive gullibility. Reckon shes reforming him?»
«Ian, enough,» Margaret chided, though her lips twitched. «Mans a hard worker, got principles. Rare breed in our line.»
In the break room, a regular solicitor, Simon, spread his hands.
«Never thought Id see a courtroom romance. Bloody soap opera material.»
Em *had* changed. Still professional, but softer. Sometimes she smiled at her phone. Started wearing a thin silver chain no one had seen before.
Behind her back, the office splitcynics versus romantics.
The men muttered darkly about «saving hopeless knights» and joked, «Better prep for a wedding invite. Theyll need witnessesYes, Your Honour, I saw the defendant steal the victims heart.»
The womenespecially the younger onesswooned. «Its *beautiful.* Miss Carter, so stern, so untouchable and him, all wounded but kind. And handsome! Straight out of a novel!»
The head clerk, Valerie, scowled.
«Envys ugly. Most of us forgot what real feelings look like. A decent blokes rarer than unicorns these days. Good on her.»
One morning over coffee, Ian couldnt resist.
«Miss Carter, how *is* your ah noble victim? Filed any more claims out of the goodness of his heart?»
The room held its breath.
Em sipped her coffee, set it down, and levelled him with a look.
«Judge Murray, if youre *that* interested in closed cases, I can grant full archive access. Fancy revisiting case #3-452/18? Or #2-187/19? Plenty of *colourful* characters there.»
Dead silence. Ian choked on his brew. He knewshed processed *his* cases too.
«No-no, Emily! Just friendly concern!»
«How touching,» she said sweetly. «But my private life isnt up for judicial review. *Yet.*»
The teasing stopped. Replaced by wary respect. The clincher came the morning Thomas dropped her offholding the car door, adjusting her coat collar. Just a small gesture, but so tender even the hardest cynics in the windows couldnt deny it.
That day, Margaret pulled her aside.
«Em hes good. It shows. Hold onto him.»
The only verdict Em accepted without protest. Just a nod:
«I know.»
The gossip died. Theyd all understood: their unflappable secretary, keeper of order and paperwork, had passed her own sentence*»Pardoned. To love. To be happy.»*
And it was final.
