The morning sun filtered through the high windows of the courthouse, casting soft light on the polished wooden floors and the rows of benches filled with spectators. The air smelled faintly of old books, polished brass, and the subtle tang of coffee from the small cafe outside. I could feel the tension in the room, a taut string stretched tight, as if everyone present anticipated a pivotal moment. My son, Noah, clutched my hand, unaware of the stakes but sensing the gravity in my quiet determination. Today was not just another…
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