When my husband’s lawyer finished, he set both hands on the table as if to punctuate the point.
“Your Honor, as already submitted, we are requesting the division detailed in the final declarations. My client has been the primary financial provider in this marriage, and—”
The judge lifted one hand. Not sharply. Just finally.
“One moment,” she said, reaching for a thick sealed folder on the bench—official, crisp-edged, almost too new-looking. It hadn’t been there at the beginning. Or maybe it had blended into the stack of ordinary files.
Something subtle changed in the room, like the direction of wind shifting. The judge adjusted her glasses. The seal on the folder caught the light, white and clean, like a fresh bandage.
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