Not 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.