The courtroom was colder than Aria remembered.
Maybe it was the air conditioning.
Maybe it was just the feeling of walking into a place where your entire life was on trial.
Eli sat quietly beside Hutchins, a coloring book open in front of him, shielded from the proceedings as much as possible. The judge had agreed to let him stay unless the testimony got too rough.
Elias sat stiffly beside Aria, his hand gripping his knee so tightly his knuckles were white.
Across the aisle, Mariah's lawyer — a sharp, viper-like woman named Dana Kershaw — shuffled her papers, exuding a smug confidence that made Aria's stomach turn.
Hutchins leaned over and whispered, "Stay composed. No outbursts."
Aria nodded.
The bailiff called everyone to order, and Judge Harrow peered down at them over his glasses.
"This is a custody review hearing regarding the placement and welfare of a minor child, Eli West."
He looked directly at Aria and Elias.
"This hearing will determine whether Eli remains in his current home or is moved into alternative guardianship."
The words landed like hammers.
Alternative guardianship.
They all knew what that meant: foster care. Or worse — a relative Eli barely knew, like Mariah's half-sister in Nevada, who had suddenly filed an interest petition.
Hutchins rose first, giving a crisp, short statement.
He outlined Aria's history: stable, hardworking, devoted mother.
He outlined Elias's progress: a father who had returned, working to rebuild the trust he had broken.
"Our argument is simple," Hutchins finished. "Eli is loved. He is safe. He deserves the continuity of care that only his current home can provide."
Dana Kershaw stood.
The room seemed to tilt slightly.
Her voice was like velvet over razor blades.
"We will show that while the respondents love the child, they are currently unfit to provide a stable environment, given the ongoing criminal investigations surrounding them, and emotional instability documented in recent psychological evaluations."
Aria's heart stopped.
She hadn't seen the final reports.
Hutchins hadn't warned them they looked bad.
Beside her, Elias stiffened, but didn't speak.
The judge nodded. "Very well. Proceed."
And just like that, the war began.
Kershaw called the first witness: Ms. Carter from Child Services.
Aria's gut twisted.
Ms. Carter took the stand, professional and polite, answering questions about her home evaluation.
At first, it wasn't bad.
She confirmed that Eli was healthy and, well-fed, and did not report any physical abuse.
But then Kershaw turned the knife.
"Did the child express any fears about conflict in the home?"
Ms. Carter hesitated.
"A few," she said carefully. "He mentioned that sometimes his parents 'got mad' and it scared him."
"Would you characterize the home environment as peaceful?"
Another pause.
"I would characterize it as loving, but under stress."
Kershaw pounced.
"And would you agree that a stressed environment could negatively impact a child's emotional development?"
Ms. Carter shifted uncomfortably.
"In theory, yes."
Aria clenched her fists under the table.
She wanted to scream: He's a kid! All kids get scared sometimes! That doesn't mean he's unsafe!
But she stayed silent like Hutchins had told her.
When Ms. Carter was excused, Aria felt like she'd lost a piece of herself.
Next came the psychologist.
An older man with wire glasses and a thick accent.
He spoke clinically about Aria's evaluation, flipping through his notes.
"Ms. West displays high levels of anxiety, moderate unresolved trauma, and a tendency toward emotional self-isolation."
Aria's cheeks burned with shame.
"And in your expert opinion," Kershaw asked, "does this pose a risk to her parenting?"
"Potentially," he said.
Hutchins objected — "Speculative!" — but the judge allowed it.
Aria stared at the floor, feeling herself fold inwards.
She wasn't perfect.
She had flaws.
But none of them made her a bad mother.
Did they?
Finally, it was Aria's turn.
She took the stand, palms sweating.
Hutchins guided her through a direct testimony first:
How she had raised Eli.
The sacrifices she made.
The ways she tried to protect him, even when it broke her heart.
She kept her voice steady. Honest.
"I didn't always have a lot growing up," she said quietly. "I didn't have a safe home. So I promised myself when I had Eli, I would give him what I never had."
There were tears in the courtroom.
Even Judge Harrow's stern face softened slightly.
But then Kershaw stood.
And the attacks began.
"Ms. West, you testified that you would do anything for Eli. Is that correct?"
"Yes."
"Including lying to protect him?"
"No."
"But you lied to protect Mr. West, didn't you?"
Aria blinked. "I don't understand the question."
Kershaw's voice sharpened.
"You didn't immediately report Mr. West's return to your home after the restraining order expired. You didn't notify Child Services that Eli was living with a father who had previously abandoned him."
Aria swallowed hard.
"I didn't lie," she said. "I just... I needed to see if he was serious before throwing Eli into that situation."
"So you withheld information."
"I made a judgment call as a mother."
"Against court instructions."
Hutchins objected — "Argumentative!" — and this time the judge sustained.
But the damage was done.
Kershaw smiled like a cat who'd tasted blood.
When Aria returned to the table, she felt gutted.
Elias touched her hand under the table, giving a quick squeeze.
She squeezed back, more grateful than she could say.
Then it was his turn.
Elias took the stand with that quiet, dangerous calm he had.
Hutchins asked him questions first:
Why come back?
What he wanted for Eli.
What he was willing to sacrifice to stay.
"I wasn't a good father before," Elias said, voice low but clear. "I'm not going to make excuses. I ran. But I came back because I couldn't live with what I'd done. Because my son deserves better. Because Aria deserves better."
Even Kershaw seemed slightly thrown off balance.
But she recovered fast.
She grilled him about his past — about arrests, unpaid debts, the years of silence.
"You abandoned your family once," she said icily. "How do we know you won't do it again?"
"You don't," Elias said simply.
The courtroom went dead silent.
"But I'm not asking you to take my word for it. I'm asking you to look at what I'm doing now. At the man I'm trying to be. I can't erase the past. But I can damn well fight for the future."
Judge Harrow leaned back, studying him.
No one spoke.
When the court adjourned for lunch, Aria felt like she could barely stand.
In the hallway, she leaned against the wall, shaking.
Elias came up beside her.
"You did good," he said.
"I feel like I got hit by a truck," she muttered.
He gave a soft, painful laugh.
"Yeah. Me too."
Hutchins joined them, frowning.
"They're trying to paint you as emotionally unstable and him as unreliable. It's their only shot."
"Are we losing?" Aria asked, hating how small her voice sounded.
Hutchins hesitated.
"We're not winning."
Lunch was a blur.
Neither of them ate.
They just sat outside the courthouse on the steps, watching the world move around them like they were trapped behind glass.
Eli sat between them, munching a sandwich, blissfully unaware of how close he was to being ripped away from everything he knew.
Aria rested her hand lightly on the back of his head.
She would not lose him.
She would not.
Back inside, things moved faster.
Closing arguments.
Dana Kershaw went first.
Her voice was dripping with false sympathy.
"No one doubts that Ms. West loves her son," she said, turning to the judge. "But love is not enough. Stability is crucial. Safety is crucial. Eli deserves better than a home constantly under siege from external threats and emotional instability."
Aria felt her chest tighten so hard she could barely breathe.
Then it was Hutchins' turn.
He didn't shout. He didn't pace.
He simply stood there and told the truth.
"Eli doesn't need perfection," he said quietly. "He needs parents who show up. Parents who fight for him, every day, no matter how hard it gets. Ms. West and Mr. West aren't perfect. But they love that boy enough to move mountains. And that's something no courtroom can manufacture."
He stepped back.
Silence.
Judge Harrow nodded.
"I'll review the testimony and issue a ruling tomorrow."
The gavel came down.
Court adjourned.
Outside, the air was sharp and cold.
Aria didn't realize she was crying until Elias touched her face, brushing away the tears.
"No matter what happens," he said quietly, "we don't quit."
She nodded, too broken to speak.
They walked to the car in silence, Eli chattering about dinosaurs and Legos, unaware that tomorrow might change everything.
Tomorrow.
One more night of waiting.
One more night of hope — and fear — colliding in her chest.
She squeezed Elias's hand.
And prayed.