Zaden hesitated, the weight of the moment hanging heavily on his small shoulders. He looked at me, his eyes wide, searching. I gave him a small nod, a silent message that it was okay to speak his truth. The judge leaned forward slightly, waiting patiently, yet his presence felt enormous, filling the room with authority.
Zaden slowly got up from his seat. His small frame seemed dwarfed by the gravity of the situation, but there was a quiet determination in his eyes. He swallowed and took a deep breath, clutching his phone tightly. “Your Honor,” he began, his voice clear but slightly trembling. “May I play a recording from last night?”
The judge looked taken aback, glancing momentarily at Damian, whose smirk faltered just a fraction. “What kind of recording, Zaden?” the judge asked, his voice calm but curious.
