Page 21 of Vintage

"You might be the first suspect who didn’t give us any trouble," Dimitri chuckled, but I ignored him.

Once settled in the back of the cop car, I couldn’t resist glancing at the window of my room, where she stood—my beautiful wife.

Her expression was distant, and the weight of her gaze pierced my heart. I felt parched, as if someone were clawing at my skin, but I had to stifle the fire within me, so I did.

"I’m sorry." A whisper that should have reached my wife went unheard.

I felt guilty for the void that had all started with my single mistake, and it consumed my marriage.

Chapter Ten

The atmosphere in the courtroom was heavy, a solemn stillness that seemed to cling to every surface. All eyes were on Amir, the focal point of the proceedings. He stood at the defendant’s table, hands bound, his face a mask of unreadable emotions, yet there was a hollowness to it. His blue eyes darted to the judge, then to the audience—a sea of unfamiliar faces, and finally, they landed on me.

I sat quietly in the front row, observing him intently. My eyes were puffy from the long days of the trial, and even though I tried to maintain mycomposure, a deep fragility enveloped me. I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, my body tense, holding myself together with sheer determination.

The sounds around me ebbed and flowed, but I kept my eyes lowered, avoiding Amir’s gaze, reluctant to confront him directly, yet his presence dominated the room.

My choices brought us to this moment.

“Amir Lucero Rowan.”

The judge, an older woman with a stern yet kind expression, glanced at the documents before her, then caught my eye before turning back to Amir.

She began, her voice imbued with the gravity of her role. "This court has found you guilty of unlawful imprisonment, specifically the forced detainment of your wife, Amery Rowan, against her will. You are convicted not only for infringing on her freedom but also for the emotional and psychological damage inflicted. The sentence, taking into account the case details and the victim's testimony, is three months in prison, effective immediately, followed by mandatory rehabilitation."

A soft murmur spread through the courtroom as the verdict was announced, but Amir remained still, his gaze fixed on the ground. His body was tense, betraying none of the turmoil within. I thought I knew him, but now I questioned who he truly was and what he had become. If what we shared was real, was my understanding of him merely an illusion, or had I overlooked something vital?

The turmoil, the anguish, and the relentless questions clouding my mind were consuming me from within.

The judge continued, her tone firm yet softening just a bit. "I recognize that your wife, Amery, has decided not to seek a divorce at this moment. She has shown a willingness to allow you a chance for rehabilitation and to mend the trust you have so deeply broken. Let it be clear, Mr. Rowan, that this court acknowledges your actions, and you must now demonstrate to both yourself and her that you can change. Three months in prison will provide you with the opportunity to reflect on your conduct. I hope it will also allow you to grasp the seriousness of your actions."

The room fell into silence once more. The words lingered heavily in the atmosphere, almost suffocating, as Amir gradually lifted his head.

I clutched over the fabric of my dress, the subtle nude pink color that reminded me of the day, he gifted me this piece. The memory killed me from inside.

The judge signaled for the officers to start escorting him away, and they moved forward, but Amir remained still. He paused for a long moment, his gaze sweeping across the room until it landed on me.

“Amery.” His lips formed the word, a silent whisper as if my name were his atonement. His path to redemption.

I attempted to control my breathing, but it eluded me. My chest throbbed, and tears threatened to spill from my eyes. I had managed to hold back my emotions during the trial, maintaining a façade of calm in the courtroom—silent and composed—but the agony was evident in every part of me. The bruises were a quiet testament to the torment he had inflicted, and if my tears could convey a message, it would be a simple one:We trusted you.

Amir stood before me, handcuffed, yet I could tell he understood. He could see my heart shattering, and the guilt that flickered in his eyes felt like a thousand needles stabbing at my chest. I despised that it affected me. I loathed acknowledging the truth we both knew.

I hated that I had ever loved him.

“Please don’t cry,” he whispered again, his lips trembling as he swallowed hard, revealing the anguish he was enduring. For a fleeting moment, I felt something achingly familiar. The anger that had consumed me began to engulf him as well. Anger at himself.

How could he have been so oblivious? How could he have caused us such pain?

“Please. Don’t. Cry. Don’t. Hurt.” Those words were intended to soothe me. Yet, intertwined with them was love—an overwhelming love—that had torn us apart.

When our gazes met, something within me shattered. He recognized the vulnerability in his own expression, the internal battle raging inside him.

I found myself cornered into a decision I never wished to confront, a decision that had driven a wedge between us. Three months. Though it seemed like a brief span, it felt like an eternity. Still… I had come to terms with this reality. I chose to believe in him, to hold onto the hope that perhaps, just perhaps, he could become the man he once vowed he would be. For that glimmer of hope, I agreed to bear the weight of the deep-seated betrayal alongside him.

The officers advanced, gently guiding Amir toward the exit, yet he remained rooted in place, his eyes locked onto mine. A flicker of emotion pierced through his tough façade—guilt, love, remorse, and yes, anger as well—anger at the damage he had inflicted on us, on me.

“I want to scream, to plead for your forgiveness, but I know I’m not worthy of it. Not yet.” His jaw tightened as he watched another tear slip down my cheek.

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