A'ishah's POV

A deep silence filled the courtroom, the kind that suffocated, that pressed down on everyone’s chest like a weight too heavy to bear.

A sharp exhale left me before I could stop it. I turned to look at her, at the real Maxine, sitting just a few feet away from me. And when I did, I found her already looking back.

Maxine’s hands curled into fists on the table, her jaw clenched tight. But her eyes, those dark, stormy eyes held something deeper. Something that mirrored the weight in my own chest.

Then, a voice from the footage shattered the silence.

"Why are you doing this?"

Nicole's voice, filled with anger and confusion, rang through the courtroom. The camera shifted, jerking as the person wearing it turned. And then, Nicole came into view.

Furious. Unrelenting. Blood smeared across her temple, but her stance was firm.

The person wearing the body camera lunged first.

The screen jolted violently as their bodies crashed into each other, fists flying, grunts and growls filling the audio. The courtroom gasped, some even flinching as if they could feel the impact themselves.

Nicole fought hard. She fought with everything she had. But then, behind her, Maxine was stirring awake.

On the screen, her fingers twitched against the cold floor. Her breathing quickened. And when she shifted, her unfocused eyes fluttered open, confusion flickering across her face.

The person wearing the camera must have noticed too.

Because without hesitation, he turned away from Nicole, and threw a brutal punch straight to her face.

The sickening crack of impact echoed in the room. Nicole staggered, her body crumbling to the ground.

I sucked in a sharp breath, my nails digging into the wood beneath my fingertips.

Maxine was still disoriented. She didn’t know what was happening.

And then, the perpetrator pulled out a gun.

The camera caught the way he raised it, aimed directly at Maxine, who was barely able to push herself up, her head tilting in confusion, her body still sluggish from whatever they had used on her.

She had no idea. But she reached for her gun anyway.

Her hands trembled as she raised it, her grip loose, her aim unsteady. She couldn’t see him. Couldn’t fully process what was happening.

And yet, she fired.

The shot rang through the speakers, loud and sharp, making several people in the courtroom flinch.

But she didn’t hit anyone.

The man had dodged. Gracefully. Effortlessly. Like he knew it was coming. Like he was trained for it.

The air in the courtroom was suffocating now, tension coiling in the silence that followed.

"MAXINE!"

Nicole’s voice rang through the speakers, desperate, urgent.

Maxine barely stirred.

On the screen, the humidifier let out another faint mist, the drugged vapor thick in the air. The man watched her closely, his gun still aimed at her.

Maxine swayed where she sat, her eyes barely staying open. She tried, she really tried. But her body was betraying her, dragging her under, lulling her back into unconsciousness.

And then, just like that, her body slumped against the floor.

She was out again.

A sharp exhale came from the man, something almost like amusement. Then, without hesitation, he turned his focus back to Nicole.

The moment his attention shifted, Nicole moved.

She launched herself at him, tackling him with whatever strength she had left. But the man was ready.

Their bodies collided violently, sending the camera shaking as their struggle intensified. Nicole landed a solid punch to his ribs, but he recovered quickly, grabbing her arm and twisting it painfully behind her back.

Nicole gritted her teeth, refusing to scream.

Then, with sheer force, she threw her weight against him, sending them both crashing against the floor.

The angle was all too familiar.

I felt my stomach turn as I realized, this was it.

The exact moment. The exact angle.

The grainy, misinterpreted screenshot that had been submitted to the court before we had recovered the full footage.

The one that made it look like Nicole was on the ground in defeat. With eyes full of anger because of the betrayal.

Nicole had fought. She had fought with everything she had. And she was losing.

On the screen, the man shifted, overpowering her, forcing her onto her back.

His knee pressed against her chest, pinning her down.

Nicole gasped for air, her fingers clawing at his arm.

I wanted to look away.

I should look away.

But I couldn’t.

The screen flickered, the grainy footage playing out the last moments of Nicole’s life, and I sat there, trapped. Forced to witness it. Forced to relive the loss of my best friend in real-time.

"Please." Nicole begged, her voice barely above a whisper. "Don't do this."

My fingers curled into fists. She was scared. Nicole was scared.

The same Nicole who never backed down from a fight. Who faced danger head-on, who stood by me when the world turned its back. The same Nicole who should still be here.

Tears burned at the edges of my vision, but I refused to blink. I owed her this. I owed her these last few moments.

She fought. God, she fought so hard.

She was already injured, already struggling to breathe, and yet she still pushed back, still tried to fight him off. She didn’t stop.

But she was losing.

The man’s knee dug harder into her chest, and Nicole let out a strangled gasp.

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat.

"Move." I wanted to scream. "Get up, fight back, don’t give up!"

But she wasn’t giving up.

Even pinned down, even with death staring her in the face, Nicole never stopped fighting. And that’s what broke me the most.

Not the helplessness in her eyes. Not the way her body struggled for air. But the fact that she was still fighting. Still believing she could make it out alive.

I bit down on my lip, hard enough to taste iron.

"Please, we're still friends." Nicole's voice was hoarse, desperate.

"I understand, John.”

The name landed like a thunderclap in the courtroom.

Gasps. Audible, sharp gasps. Someone dropped a pen. A chair scraped violently against the floor. It created chaos in the courtroom.

People whispered, some loud, some hushed, but all frantic. Even the judge, who had remained composed this entire trial, faltered.

But none of it mattered.

Because all I could see, all I could hear was the deafening silence of one man.

John.

My head snapped toward him so fast my vision blurred. My heart slammed against my ribs, the rush of blood drowning out everything else.

He was frozen.

His face drained of all color, lips slightly parted, fingers trembling against the table. His pupils shrank, his throat bobbing as he struggled to swallow down the sheer, gut-wrenching realization that he had just been caught.

“No.” The word barely left his lips. It was breathless, weak.

But the damage was done.

Maxine moved first. The chair beneath her screeched as she shot up, the force of her rage palpable, her breath ragged.

“You son of a bitch!” She spat, voice trembling.

John flinched. His eyes darted wildly, searching for what? A way out? An excuse? A lie that could undo what the footage had so clearly revealed?

There was nothing left for him to twist.

A bitter laugh tore from my throat, but it wasn’t amusement. It was disgust.

“You murdered her.” I whispered, my voice raw, broken, too shattered to be anything but the truth.

His head shook violently, panic bleeding into every inch of his expression. “I—No! This—this is fake! This is—!”

"Shut up!" Maxine’s voice cracked as she slammed her hands on the table. "You killed her! You killed Nicole!"

John flinched again. His mouth opened, but no words came out. His hands were shaking now. His breathing was uneven, shallow. He knew. He knew there was no escape.

"You're a murderer."

I barely recognized my own voice. It was raw, stripped bare by grief and fury.

John flinched. "No."

I slammed my hand against the table, the sound cracking through the air like a gunshot.

"This is your voice. Your crime. Your guilt laid out for everyone to see!" I turned sharply to the judge, my heart hammering so violently it ached. "Your Honor, I am demanding the immediate detainment of the defendant, Police Lieutenant John Velasquez, for the murder of Police Captain Nicole Mendoza!”

The courtroom erupted. Shouts, murmurs, chairs scraping against the floor. John tried to speak, but his words were lost beneath the chaos. His breathing turned ragged, his entire body trembling now.

Then, suddenly, John shoved the table, sending papers flying as he bolted.

“Stop him!” Mara yelled, but it was Maxine who reacted first.

She was faster.

With a snarl, she lunged after him, her body slamming into his with full force. They tumbled to the floor, chairs crashing around them, the courtroom breaking into utter chaos.

But Maxine didn’t care.

Her hands wrapped around his throat, her knuckles white from how hard she squeezed.

“You watched me suffer.” She hissed, her voice shaking with fury. “You let them blame me for your crime! You watched me break, you son of a bitch!”

John gagged, struggling, but she was relentless.

She didn’t just want him caught, she wanted him to pay.

Her fist crashed against his face once. Then again. And again.

The impact echoed through the room, each hit fueled by months of rage, grief, and injustice.

John barely managed to raise his arms in defense, but Maxine was merciless.

"You let them drag me through hell!" Another punch. Blood splattered onto the floor. "You let them take everything from me!" Another. "And you just stood there!"

Her screams cut through the commotion, raw, desperate, agonizing.

John coughed, choking on his own blood, but Maxine didn’t stop. She couldn’t. Not after everything. Not after Nicole died.

“Max!”

Jana, Gwyneth, and Jeremy grabbed her, yanking her off before she could strike again.

“Let me go!” She shrieked, fighting against their hold, her face twisted with fury and grief. “He killed Nicole! He let me take the blame! Let me go!”

But they held on.

She was shaking, her breath ragged, tears spilling down her face.

John coughed violently on the floor, his lip split, his nose broken, blood dripping onto the marble.

But even now, Maxine glared at him with nothing but pure hatred.

“You’re a fucking coward.” She spat, voice hoarse. "You let me rot while you walked free."

John groaned, still dazed, but before he could even think of moving…

"Don't even try."

I was already there, standing over him, my heels clicking against the floor as I stepped closer.

I met his gaze. And I saw fear. Real, unfiltered fear.

I scoffed. "Now you're scared?" My voice was ice. "After everything you did? After killing her? After framing Maxine?" I crouched down, my glare never wavering. "You should be."

Then, I straightened and turned to the officers.

"Arrest him.”

The courtroom was still in chaos. Officers were already pulling John up from the floor, slapping cuffs on his wrists, his face swollen and bloodied from Maxine’s fists.

But I wasn’t looking at him. I was looking at her.

Maxine was still trembling, her hands clenched into fists, her chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. There was blood on her knuckles, his blood. Her eyes were red, burning with months of rage, pain, and injustice.

“Maxine!” Her mother’s voice broke through the noise.

Maxine barely had time to react before arms wrapped around her.

Her mom, sobbing openly, clutched her tightly. “Oh, my baby…” Her voice cracked, her hands cupping Maxine’s face as if making sure she was real. “You’re innocent. You’re innocent, you always were!”

Maxine froze for a second. Then, like something inside her snapped, she broke.

Tears spilled down her face as she gripped her mother back just as tightly. “Mom…”

“I’m so sorry.” Her mother cried, kissing the top of her head, her hands shaking. “The world has been cruel to you, anak.”

Then her sister was there, wrapping them both in an embrace, her own tears falling freely. “You stubborn idiot.” She choked out, half-laughing, half-crying. “You're free!”

Maxine’s brother stood beside them, wiping at his face before gently ruffling her hair. “Tangina, we almost lost you…” His voice cracked, and he turned away, trying to pull himself together.

Her father, who had been standing back, quiet, hesitant, finally stepped forward.

Maxine met his eyes. For a moment, they just stared at each other.

Then, to my surprise, her father exhaled sharply, like all the weight he had been carrying had suddenly crashed down on him. And in the next second, he pulled Maxine into his arms.

Maxine trembled, a choked sob escaping her lips.

And I… I stood there. Watching.

Feeling like I was intruding on something sacred. Feeling like something inside me was cracking apart.

Because I could almost see Nicole.

If she were here, she would’ve laughed, clapped Maxine on the back, and said, "Told you they’d come around, dumbass."

But she wasn’t here. She wasn’t ever coming back. And that truth burned deeper than anything.

“MAMAMATAY TAO KANG HAYOP KA!”

Mara’s voice—loud, furious, and filled with nothing but rage.

I turned just in time to see her charging at John, her heels clicking aggressively against the floor. If it weren’t for the officers holding him, she would’ve ripped him apart with her bare hands.

“How dare you?” She spat, her entire body shaking.

John flinched, eyes darting around in panic, but he had nowhere to run now.

“You betrayed us.” Nicole’s mother hissed, stepping forward. She was crying, but it wasn’t sadness, it was fury. “You were her friend, John! You betrayed her!”

Nicole’s father was shaking so hard his fists trembled at his sides. His voice was dangerously low. “You took our daughter away.”

John swallowed hard, looking like he wanted to speak, but Mara wasn’t finished.

“You watched us mourn! You stood beside us while we buried Nicole, you pretended to grieve while you let Maxine suffer for your crime!” Her voice cracked, thick with fury and heartbreak.

She took a step closer, her glare murderous. “Hayop ka.”

John shrank back, but it didn’t matter anymore.

His life, everything he built was over. And he knew it.

I clenched my jaw, my nails digging into my palm.

Nicole’s family was grieving.

Maxine’s family was finally seeing the truth.

And me? I was just standing here, watching it all unfold, pretending I was still holding myself together.

But inside, I was still hearing Nicole’s voice. Still seeing her struggle. Still remembering the exact moment she realized she wasn’t going to make it.

And it hurt.

God, it hurt so much.

“Enough!” The judge slammed the gavel.

The entire courtroom, still charged with the weight of rage, grief, and vindication, slowly quieted. Mara was still breathing heavily, her fists clenched at her sides, but she stepped back. John was slumped between the officers, his face a mess of fear and swelling bruises from Maxine’s punches.

The judge adjusted her glasses, her expression hard. “Everyone, return to your seats.”

I inhaled deeply, forcing my feet to move, my body heavy with everything I had just witnessed. Maxine’s family hesitated before doing the same, though their hands still hovered protectively around her. Nicole’s parents stayed standing a second longer, as if staring John down, memorizing his face before he was dragged out of their sight forever.

Finally, the courtroom settled.

The judge cleared his throat, his voice steady. “After careful review of the evidence, including the footage presented today, this court finds the defendant—” He glanced at Maxine. “—Colonel Maxine Blair De Luna, not guilty for the murder of Captain Nicole Mendoza.”

A breath I hadn’t realized I was holding escaped me. The words echoed in my head. Not guilty.

It was over.

I closed my eyes for a second, grounding myself, before looking across the room.

Jana caught my gaze first, her usually sharp, teasing eyes now filled with relief. A silent conversation passed between us.

We did it.

I nodded at her, and she did the same. Then another, from Gwyneth.

I swallowed, my throat tight.

When I turned back to Maxine’s family, I saw nothing but raw, unfiltered joy.

Her mother let out a sob, but this time, it was happy. Her sister grabbed onto her brother’s arm, shaking him as if to make sure they both heard it right. Her father, usually reserved, exhaled a shaky breath, his hands clasped together as he shut his eyes, relieved.

They almost jumped out of their seats, hugging, crying, laughing.

But then, I met Maxine's eyes. She was already staring at me blankly.

No tears, no smile, no relief. Just… staring.

My breath caught.

The room was filled with noise, filled with celebration, but suddenly, it all felt distant. Because Maxine wasn’t celebrating.

She wasn’t crying like her family, wasn’t thanking the judge, wasn’t reacting to anything at all.

She just sat there. Still. Silent.

Staring at me.

My fingers curled around the edges of the table, suddenly unsteady.

Because in her eyes, I didn’t see victory. I saw nothing.

And for the first time since this trial began… I was scared of what that meant.

The moment the judge dismissed the court, I didn’t wait.

I stood up, pushing away from the table with shaky hands. The weight of the footage, Nicole’s final moments, John’s betrayal, Maxine’s wrongful suffering was crushing me. Suffocating me.

I turned toward Nicole’s parents. Mara was still glaring at John as the officers dragged him away, her hands trembling with barely restrained fury. Nicole’s father looked exhausted, as if he had aged ten years in the span of this trial.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat and forced myself to speak.

“I need to go.” I muttered, barely above a whisper. “There’s still something I need to do. I have to make sure John rots in prison.”

Mara turned to me, her anger briefly replaced by something softer. Understanding.

She didn’t say anything, but she gave me a small nod. That was all I needed.

I walked out of the courtroom, my pace quick, almost frantic. The moment I stepped into the parking lot, the cold air hit me, and I let out a shaky breath.

Then finally, the tears came.

They spilled silently, hot and relentless, tracing down my cheeks as I leaned against the cold metal of my car.

Nicole, I found the truth.

After all these months, after all the sleepless nights, the doubts, the accusations, finally, justice was being served.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the parking lot, the air thick with lingering heat. My hands trembled as I wiped at my face, but the tears kept falling, silent and relentless.

It was over. Justice would be served.

Nicole’s murderer was finally exposed, and Maxine was finally free.

So why did it still feel like my chest was caving in?

Footsteps echoed against the pavement, and I stiffened. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

"I bet you're angry because I was innocent."

Her voice was sharp, edged with something deeper than just anger. Resentment. Pain. Betrayal.

I exhaled slowly before turning to face her.

Maxine stood a few feet away, her body tense, her fists clenched at her sides. The sunlight caught in her eyes, making the hurt in them impossible to ignore.

She was furious at me.

"You built the case against me.” She spat, stepping forward. "You stood there, in that courtroom, in front of everyone, and told them I killed Nicole. You wanted me to be guilty."

I didn't move, I didn't speak.

Because what could I say?

"You didn’t even try to believe me.” Her voice wavered, but she pushed through, her words striking like a blade. “Denise did. She found the truth. She proved my innocence. She did what you couldn’t.”

I let the words sink in.

I let her anger crash over me like a tidal wave, because I deserved it.

I could’ve told her.

I could’ve told her that it was me who gave Denise the evidence that set her free. That it was me who fought against a system that wanted to keep her locked away. That it was me who spent sleepless nights trying to find a way to save her, even as I stood in that courtroom, forced to play my role.

But I didn’t.

I wouldn’t.

Because none of that would change the fact that I had hurt her.

So I met her eyes, held her gaze even as my own tears continued to fall.

Maxine sucked in a sharp breath. For the first time, she hesitated. She wasn’t expecting to see me like this.

Wasn’t expecting the tears, the quiet devastation on my face. But I didn’t give her time to process it.

I nodded, agreeing with her. I didn’t argue. Didn’t defend myself.

"Yes.” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "She’s better."

Maxine blinked, as if she’d been punched in the gut.

Her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something, but no words came out.

She had come here for a fight. And I had stolen it from her.

The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden hue over everything, but all I felt was the weight of everything we had lost.

Maybe she would never forgive me.

Maybe I didn’t deserve it.

The tears wouldn’t stop. No matter how much I willed myself to breathe, to steady my shaking hands, they kept falling. I turned away, not wanting Maxine to see me like this.

I heard her inhale sharply, the sound of her shifting against the pavement. My heart clenched.

She was going to come closer.

For a brief, foolish second, I thought that maybe she would wipe my tears like she used to. Maybe she would look at me the way she once did, full of warmth and understanding, instead of with cold, burning hatred.

But she stopped herself.

I felt it before I saw it. The way her body tensed, the hesitation that turned into withdrawal.

And that hurt even more.

I bit the inside of my cheek, hard, forcing back a sob.

No. I had no right to cry. Not when I was the one who caused this. Not when I was the one who tore us apart.

Maxine stayed silent for a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Then, with a scoff, she took a step back.

Like I was nothing.

Like I meant nothing.

I was drowning in it, in the weight of everything I had lost, when a familiar voice broke through the suffocating silence.

"A'ishah."

A warm hand landed on my shoulder, grounding me. I turned, dazed, to see Clifford standing there.

His eyes softened as he took in my tear-streaked face. He didn’t ask any questions. Didn’t push. Just gently guided me toward the car.

"Come on.” He murmured. "It'll be alright."

I wanted to believe him. But I couldn't.

Even as I let him open the car door for me, even as I slid into the seat, my hands curled into fists on my lap.

Because just before I turned away, I saw it.

A brief, almost imperceptible flicker of jealousy in Maxine’s eyes as she watched Clifford take my hand, lead me away.

But it didn’t matter.

Because the hatred in her gaze was so much stronger.

~~~

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