As the judge signaled for a break to allow the bailiff to set up the necessary equipment to play the video, the courtroom buzzed with an unexpected energy, a mix of curiosity, anticipation, and a slight undercurrent of anxiety. The pristine silence that had earlier enveloped the room was replaced by hushed whispers and the shuffling of papers as everyone adjusted to this unforeseen development.
I glanced at my husband. His once impassive demeanor was now tinged with unease, his confident posture slightly slumped, eyes fixated on the tablet as if willing it to disappear. My own nerves were a chaotic mix of hope and dread. What had Lily captured? Why had she felt the need to record something without my knowledge? Questions raced through my mind faster than I could catch them.
The screen flickered to life. The muffled noise of an indistinct video gradually sharpened into clarity. There was a timestamp in the corner—last Thursday, it read. The frame opened to the familiar setting of my living room, the evening sunlight filtering softly through the sheer curtains, casting elongated shadows across the floor.
