The courtroom was a theater of stillness. Even the scrape of a chair seemed blasphemous in the silence. Reporters leaned forward in the gallery, pens clutched like weapons, waiting to capture history. The overhead fans hummed without mercy, stirring papers, but doing nothing for the suffocating heat.
Amber Gatmaitan sat stiff-backed in the witness bench, hands folded tightly on her lap. Her knuckles were pale from pressure. She tried to still the trembling of her fingers, but the tremor betrayed her. Every eye seemed to turn toward her, though no one called her name.
Harry Bolaños sat across the room, shackled, his shoulders squared as if chains were merely an accessory. His gaze was steady, his jaw hard, but when his eyes lifted and met Amber’s, the world bent. For an instant she forgot the judge, the jury, the gavel, the spectators. She saw only him.
Then Judge Jennifer Capiña entered, and the illusion cracked.
“All rise,” the bailiff intoned.
The room stood as one, except for Harry, who rose only as far as the chains allowed. Judge Capiña adjusted her robe, her expression stern yet calm. She sat. The room followed.
“This court will now proceed with closing arguments,” she declared, her voice carrying authority that brooked no interruption.
Amber felt her throat dry. Her testimony was finished, but the weight of it had not lifted. Every word she had spoken hung above her like a guillotine, threatening to fall either on Harry or on herself.
Atty. Nikolai Fortun rose for the prosecution. His suit was immaculate, his voice sharp enough to cut glass.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” he began, “you have heard testimony. You have examined evidence. You have seen the contradictions, the shadows, the strain of truth pressed against denial. Now, as we approach judgment, you must remember one thing: this case is not about love, not about longing, not about pity. It is about law. It is about justice.”
He stepped closer to the jury box, his hand resting on the railing.
“The accused, Harry Bolaños, has been presented as charming, composed, almost magnetic. But do not be deceived by demeanor. A calm face can mask violence. A steady gaze can hide guilt. Remember what the witness told us. She faltered. She contradicted herself. She could not keep her eyes from him. Why? Because she is compromised. Her emotions have tangled with her duty. But your duty remains clear.”
He turned, his gaze cutting briefly to Amber, sharp enough to slice her composure. “Ask yourselves: who benefits from doubt? Who gains when the truth is blurred by sympathy? It is not justice. It is not the victims. It is the accused.”
Amber felt the sting as though he had struck her. She wanted to cry out, to insist that she had not lied, that her heart’s confusion did not erase the facts. But her lips stayed sealed.
Nikolai’s voice rose, firm and final. “The law cannot bend to longing. Do not let your verdict be swayed by what you imagine you see between them. The law demands clarity. And clarity points only to guilt.”
He sat down, his jaw set, his gaze lingering on Amber one last time.
The defense attorney stood. He was younger, less polished, but carried a quiet conviction that filled the room. Harry leaned forward and whispered something into his ear. The attorney nodded once, then faced the jury.
“My client has been accused of monstrous acts. Yet in all the weeks of this trial, the state has not shown proof beyond a reasonable doubt. What we have been given are fragments, assumptions, emotional tremors that prosecutors twist into narratives. But narratives are not truth.”
He walked slowly, his voice calm but resolute. “You saw Amber Gatmaitan on the stand. You saw her tremble, you heard her falter. The prosecution tells you it is because she is compromised. I tell you it is because she carries a conscience. I tell you it is because she knows that Harry Bolaños is not the monster they say. She knows his humanity.”
The gallery gasped. Judge Capiña struck her gavel. “Order in the court.”
The attorney pressed on. “The state demands you ignore the humanity of the accused. They want you to see only a caricature of guilt. But justice is not caricature. Justice is not vengeance. Justice is fairness. If you hold even the smallest grain of doubt, you cannot convict. And there is doubt. You saw it. You felt it. Do not turn away from it now.”
He bowed his head slightly. “I trust you will choose fairness.”
The courtroom buzzed with murmurs. Judge Capiña dismissed the jury.
Hours bled into hours. The jury deliberated behind closed doors. Outside, the air was heavy with waiting.
Amber sat in the hallway, her heart a drum in her chest. Ernie Cabello paced beside her, his footsteps a relentless rhythm.
“Amber,” he said at last, his voice low and urgent, “you need to hear me. No matter what the verdict is, you cannot let yourself fall deeper into this. If he is freed, he will drag you down with him. If he is condemned, he will drag you down in another way. Either way, you lose.”
She shook her head slowly. “I cannot just turn away, Ernie. You do not understand. I am already too far in.”
“I do understand,” Ernie said sharply. “I see what is happening to you. You are blind to it because you do not want to face it. But I will say it plain. You will destroy yourself for him.”
Amber’s voice was fragile, trembling. “Maybe that is the only way I will ever feel alive.”
Ernie stopped pacing. His eyes burned with anguish. “Then God help you, Amber. Because no one else can.”
He walked away, leaving her alone with her heartbeat.
Razel Ann del Prado approached, notebook in hand, eyes glinting with curiosity and suspicion.
“You look tired, Miss Gatmaitan,” she said smoothly. “Long day in court?”
Amber stiffened. “Please, not now.”
“Of course,” Razel said, scribbling something down anyway. “But I wonder. What is it like to be at the center of such a storm? To know that your words could set him free or seal his fate? And what does it mean, I wonder, that your eyes never leave him?”
Amber stood abruptly. “You have no right.”
Razel smiled thinly. “No right, perhaps. But the world will ask these questions, whether you answer them or not.”
She turned and walked away, her heels striking the floor like punctuation.
Celso Canlas Bolaños arrived later, his face heavy with sorrow. He sat beside Amber quietly for a moment before speaking.
“My brother is not a saint,” he said softly. “But he is not a monster either. Whatever you feel for him, whatever the court decides, know this. He is flesh and blood. He is ours. And if the world condemns him, he will still remain ours.”
Amber’s throat tightened. “And if the world condemns me for standing by him?”
Celso looked at her sadly. “Then you will learn what it means to carry the Bolaños name.”
At last the jury returned. Every heartbeat in the room was thunder. The foreman stood, paper trembling in his hand.
“On the charge of aggravated assault, we find the defendant not guilty.”
A ripple of reaction surged.
“On the charge of unlawful possession, we find the defendant not guilty.”
Amber’s breath caught. Hope flared like fire.
The foreman swallowed hard. “On the charge of homicide, we find the defendant guilty.”
The gallery erupted. Cries, curses, applause, weeping. Judge Capiña struck her gavel.
“Order.”
Harry’s head lifted, his eyes seeking Amber. Their gazes locked across the chaos. Her tears fell silently.
Judge Capiña’s voice cut through. “The defendant is remanded to custody pending sentencing. Court is adjourned.”
That night Amber visited the detention center. The room reeked of bleach and iron. Harry was brought in, chains clinking softly.
“You should not be here,” he said, voice quiet but firm.
“I had to be,” Amber whispered. “I could not let the last time I saw you be in that courtroom.”
He sat, his eyes softer now. “They gave me life, Amber. But you still have yours. Do not waste it on me.”
Her hands trembled against the table. “Life without you is not life.”
Harry leaned closer, his voice sharp with urgency. “Do not say that. You must live. You must survive. Do not chain yourself to me.”
She shook her head, tears streaking her face. “I already am. From the first glance, I was bound.”
Harry closed his eyes, struggling for composure. “Then learn to live with chains. Because our love, Amber, it is a crime. And crimes are never pardoned.”
The guard signaled the end of time.
Harry stood, but before turning away, he whispered one final word. “Survive.”
Amber left the detention center alone. The night pressed heavy on her shoulders. She walked through the darkness, her steps echoing in emptiness.
Justice had spoken. Passion had burned. And the sacrifice was hers to bear.
The final sentence was not the judge’s words. It was the silence between her and Harry, the unspoken truth carved into both their souls: they belonged to each other, but never to the world.
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and then Add to home screen.