Derek:
“It will be.”
That conversation occurred while I was undergoing my second surgery.
I testified for two days.
Derek’s attorney asked whether the fire had affected my memory.
“Yes.”
Whether medication had affected my perception.
“Yes.”
Whether I hated my husband.
I looked at Derek.
“No.”
The attorney paused.
“No?”
“I don’t hate him.”
“After everything you’ve accused him of?”
“I survived him. I don’t need to spend the rest of my life carrying him.”
The prosecutor didn’t ask another question.
Neither did the defense.
PART 9 — THE VERDICT
Derek was convicted.
So was Simone.
The judge described the crime as calculated and extraordinarily cruel.
I didn’t feel triumphant.
There was no moment where my scars disappeared.
No verdict returned the face I once had.
No sentence gave me back the months spent in hospitals.
Justice isn’t time travel.
But it is a line.
Before the verdict, Derek still occupied part of my future.
Afterward, he belonged to my past.
The divorce became final while he was awaiting sentencing.
