Delia reached her first, still in scrubs, her eyes red.
"I have to get back to the hospital. But I had to be here. I had to see it."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me." Delia gripped her arm. "Your dad would be so proud of you. I hope you know that."
The words hit harder than the verdict had. Lila's throat closed.
"I hope so."
"I knew him, Lila. He would be." Delia pulled her into a quick, fierce hug. "Call me later. When you've had time."
Then she was gone, disappearing into the crowd, and Lila was alone with Ronan in a hallway that was slowly going quiet.
Sarah appeared, briefcase in hand.
"Sentencing in six weeks. He's looking at twenty-five to life." She was already checking her phone, already moving on. "You did good. Go home. Get some rest."
She walked away before Lila could respond.
The hallway was empty now. Fluorescent lights buzzing. The faint smell of floor polish.
"It should feel different," Lila said.
Ronan waited.
"I thought I'd feel—I don't know. Triumphant. Vindicated. Something big." She stared at the floor. "Instead, I just feel tired. And empty. Like I've been running for five years, and I finally stopped and don't know what to do with my legs."
"That makes sense."
"Does it?"
"You built your life around this. Finding the truth. Getting justice. Now it's done." He leaned against the wall beside her. "It's going to take a while to figure out what comes next."
"What if I can't?"
"You will."
"You sound very sure."
"I've seen you figure out harder things."
She looked at him. This man, who had walked into her life three months ago and changed everything. Who had seen her at her worst and stayed anyway. Who was still here, leaning against a courthouse wall, waiting for her to be ready to leave.
"Take me home," she said.
They walked out together, into the pale January afternoon. The parking lot was half-empty. A few reporters lingered by the entrance, but they didn't follow.
At the car, Lila stopped.
"He looked at me. After the verdict. Before they took him away."
"I saw."
"There was nothing there. No anger, no guilt, nothing. Just—" She shook her head. "He looked at me like I was nobody."
"That's who he is. That's who he's always been."
