Lost without you

The heavy oak doors of the courtroom swung shut behind Bella, and the sound echoed her throbbing head.

She blinked in the afternoon glare and lifted a hand to shield her eyes.

Immediately, a crowd formed around her: reporters thrusting microphones into her face, grateful families pressing their hands over theirs, pushy lawyers trying to network.

She plastered on a smile- tight, rehearsed- and shook hand after hand after hand.

"Bella, any comments about the verdict?" asked reporter, pushing forward to hear her opinion.

"Justice was served," Bella said flatly. "That's all that matters."

More flashes, more questions.

All she wanted was out.

Her heels clicked against the marble steps as she pushed forward, muscles aching.

She was tired.

God, she was bone tired.

Winning today's case - a brutal, months-long battle against a syndicate who thought money could buy silence - should've felt victorious.

But instead, it just felt heavy.

Every win lately seemed to carve a little more out of her.

She was halfway across the plaza, dodging cameras, when her phone buzzed against her palm.

Her heart gave a tiny jump of relief at the name on the screen:

> Julian.

Her mouth actually smiled without force this time.

She thumbed the green button and pressed the phone to her ear, weaving through the bodies.

> "Tell me you're bringing pizza," she breathed.

Julian's laugh crackled down the line, warm and easy.

> "Is that how you greet your favorite roommate?"

> "Julian," she groaned dramatically, "I just spent six hours convincing twelve humans that monsters wear expensive suits. I deserve pizza. And wine. Preferably delivered to me in a bathtub."

> "You're in luck," he said. "Chef Julian has prepared a feast worthy of your courtroom greatness. Lasagna's in the oven. Salad is...well, technically just leaves. And garlic bread that might actually kill you."

Bella snorted, weaving into a quieter side street.

> "You had me at death by garlic bread."

> "I figured."

He paused, then his voice softened.

"You okay though? I caught some of the live feed. You looked like you were ready to throw that slimy defense lawyer through a window."

Bella exhaled slowly, letting the question settle.

> "Yeah. I mean...no. I don't know."

She slowed her walk, bumping her shoulder against a lamppost without realizing it.

> "It just-" she faltered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, "It never feels like a win. You know? The kid's still scarred. The monsters will find another loophole. I-"

Her voice caught. She stopped walking.

Julian's voice was gentle.

> "Hey. Hey, Bell. You did everything you could. You gave her a fighting chance. You didn't let them erase her."

She swallowed hard.

> "I know," she said. "It's just...I wish the world didn't need me to fight like this in the first place."

There was a beat of silence between them. Comfortable. Familiar.

Julian spoke again, lighter this time.

> "Well, the world's an asshole. Lucky for it, it has you."

That made her laugh - a real one, bursting out of her chest unexpectedly.

> "You're such a sap," she teased.

> "I'm your sap," Julian said proudly.

"Now get your superwoman ass home before the lasagna burns and we have to mourn my cooking skills too."

> "On my way," she promised, feeling some of the exhaustion peel off her shoulders like old skin.

She tucked the phone into her purse, crossed the street, and finally-finally-felt the fresh, sharp air hit her face.

Home.

Julian.

Dinner that may or may not kill her.

For tonight, that would have to be enough. The streets had thinned now, the courthouse fading behind her.

The city buzzed around her: cars, people talking, and faint music seeping out of some cafe.

Normal life, marching on.

Bella reached her car and tossed her briefcase into the passenger seat before sliding behind the wheel.

A fleeting glimpse in the rearview mirror showed dark smudges sitting beneath her keen brown eyes, the lipstick long since worn away, and her hair half-collapsed into a twist.

Battle scars, she thought wryly.

The kinds you earned going to war for the defenseless and coming back half a person.

The drive home was short, winding through well-known roads dotted with barrened trees and closed shops.

By the time she reached their gated community- chic, upscale townhouses that screamed "young professional success"- the day's stress had settled in her bones.

She pulled into the driveway and stretched her arms overhead before she went back to gather her things;

The yellow light, visibly warming the sky as it started to darken, could only come through the windows above.

She could already picture Julian inside the house - likely humming off-key and burning the garlic bread he had promised so proudly.

Bella smiled to herself.

Home.

Normalcy.

Bella shoved the front door open with her hip, juggling her bag and keys.

The first thing that hit her was the smell - rich tomato sauce, buttery garlic, something faintly burning.

The second thing was the sight - Julian standing at the kitchen counter, wearing an apron that said "Kiss the Cook or Else", wielding a wooden spoon like a sword as he dramatically fought an invisible enemy.

Bella leaned against the doorway, one eyebrow arched.

"Do I even want to know who's winning that battle?" she called out.

Julian whirled, spoon raised in triumph.

"Victory is mine! The lasagna tried to rebel, but it has been subdued."

"You're so weird," Bella said, laughing, dropping her bag by the couch.

He grinned, unbothered, and struck a pose, apron flaring like a cape.

"Weird and culinarily gifted, thank you very much."

Bella's stomach growled audibly, punctuating the claim.

Julian smirked.

"See? Even your digestive system knows I'm a genius."

She rolled her eyes and moved toward the kitchen, noticing something scribbled across the dinner table.

Colorful little sheets of paper - ripped from an old sketchpad - were scattered around the plates.

Bella picked one up.

It was a doodle of her, stick-figure style, wearing a giant red cape and holding a gavel twice her size. Above her, in big bold letters:

"Super Lawyer Saves the Day!!"

Another drawing showed her drop-kicking a briefcase labeled "Corruption" into a cartoonish sun.

Bella pressed a hand to her mouth to smother her laugh.

"What is all this?" she asked, pretending to sound stern.

Julian, setting the garlic bread down (only slightly singed), beamed at her.

"It's the official 'Bella Wins Again' party decorations. Accept your greatness."

She shook her head, plopping into one of the chairs.

"You're ridiculous."

"You're welcome," he said, grabbing two mismatched mugs from the shelf.

"Now, time for the toasting ceremony."

Bella snorted as he filled them with the cheap grocery store wine they kept for exactly these moments.

He handed her a mug - hers said "World's Okayest Lawyer" in faded print.

"To Bella," Julian declared, raising his own mug, which had a giant chip on the rim.

"May she continue to terrify the guilty, inspire the helpless, and intimidate every poor bastard who tries to flirt with her."

Bella burst out laughing, clinking mugs with him.

"Cheers, idiot."

They sipped - the wine was as terrible as she remembered - and set the mugs down with twin grimaces.

"God, why do we keep drinking that stuff?" she said, wiping her mouth.

"Tradition," Julian said solemnly. "Suffering bonds us."

Bella laughed again, warmth creeping into her tired limbs.

She removed her shoes and walked barefoot to the microwave, probing behind it with a familiar hand.

Julian leaned over the counter, eyebrows raised.

"Aha. The secret shame."

"Not shame, but survival," Bella protested, producing a hidden stash of stress snacks: chocolate bars, gummy worms, and a crumbled bag of sour cream chips.

Julian eyed the loot like a man considering robbery.

"You know, most people hide emergency money. You hide diabetes."

"Priorities," Bella said, chomping down on a chocolate bar without an ounce of remorse.

He chuckled, turning to plate the lasagna with dramatic flourishes.

For a while, they ate in friendly silence, the bad wine flowed, and the doodles fluttered under their elbows.

The city lights twinkled beyond the windows, but it was warm and safe inside.

Then, predictably, Julian ruined it.

"You know," he said lightly, "if you spent half as much time dating as you do saving the world, you might actually have someone to toast with who isn't me."

Bella rolled her eyes with such an intensity that she almost fell off the chair.

"Oh, here we go."

"I'm just saying," Julian said, holding up his hands in innocence he absolutely did not possess, "you're what, twenty-eight? Prime dating age. Gorgeous, scary-smart, heroic - and yet, tragically single."

Bella pointed a fork at him threateningly.

"Maybe men are intimidated. Maybe they can't handle all this," she said, gesturing broadly to herself.

"Or maybe," Julian said, ignoring the fork, "they're afraid you'll sue them if they screw up."

Bella nearly choked on her wine, coughing and laughing at the same time.

"Oh my God. That happened one time!"

"One time too many," Julian said, looking way too pleased with himself.

"I still remember poor Alex's face when you served him papers for reimbursement."

"He deserved it," Bella said defensively, cheeks flushing.

"I spent two grand on a vacation he bailed on! And that jerk tried to ghost me!"

Julian leaned back in his chair, hands folded behind his head, grinning like the devil.

"And thus began the legend of Bella: Avenger of Wallets."

Bella threw a balled-up napkin at him. He dodged, laughing.

"You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?"

"Nope," Julian said cheerfully.

"Not until you find some poor fool brave enough to date you - and dumb enough to think he can win an argument."

Bella shook her head, smiling despite herself.

"You're an ass."

"You love me."

"Unfortunately," she muttered, picking up another chocolate bar.

They slid into easier conversation after that - talking about the new art exhibit Julian was planning, gossiping about their neighbor's ugly garden gnome collection, arguing over which crime documentary was the best to rewatch for the thousandth time.

The night stretched out, slow and comfortable.

For a little while, the world outside - the cruelty, the courtroom battles, the whispered threats she sometimes felt lingering on the back of her neck - it all stayed where it belonged: far, far away.