Married To My Best Friend's Husband[Plead To God] のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 71 - チャプター 80

[ALESSIA'S POV]The week between Edward's testimony and Sandra's sentencing feels like the longest seven days of my life, each hour stretching into something interminable as we all try to go about our normal routines while this massive question mark hangs over everything. Will Sandra get twenty years or twenty-five? Will the judge be swayed by Edward's testimony about her mental state, or will she decide that desperate love doesn't excuse kidnapping and attempted murder? I find myself obsessively checking my phone for updates from David even though I know he'll call me the second he hears anything, and at night I lie awake running through scenarios in my head, trying to prepare myself for every possible outcome even though I know it's pointless to try to control things that are completely out of my hands.Jeffrey has been incredible this past week, stepping up in all the ways I needed him to without me even having to ask. He's taken over most of the household responsibilities so I can

[ALESSIA'S POV]My voice comes out steadier than I expected when I start reading from the paper in my hands, though I can feel it trembling slightly as I force myself to look up and make eye contact with the judge instead of staring down at my prepared words like a shield against the roomful of people watching me. "Your Honor, my name is Alessia Reed Walker, and I'm here today to tell you about how Sandra Seaman's actions affected me and my family." The words feel both rehearsed and raw at the same time, like I'm reciting lines from a script about someone else's trauma even though every word is pulled directly from my own experience, my own nightmares, my own long slow recovery from something that should never have happened.I tell the judge about the morning I was taken, how I was on my way to work thinking about the segment I needed to edit and whether I'd remembered to pack Alexander's lunch, completely ordinary thoughts that evaporated the moment the van pulled up and men in masks

[ALESSIA'S POV]My voice comes out steadier than I expected when I start reading from the paper in my hands, though I can feel it trembling slightly as I force myself to look up and make eye contact with the judge instead of staring down at my prepared words like a shield against the roomful of people watching me. "Your Honor, my name is Alessia Reed Walker, and I'm here today to tell you about how Sandra Seaman's actions affected me and my family." The words feel both rehearsed and raw at the same time, like I'm reciting lines from a script about someone else's trauma even though every word is pulled directly from my own experience, my own nightmares, my own long slow recovery from something that should never have happened.I tell the judge about the morning I was taken, how I was on my way to work thinking about the segment I needed to edit and whether I'd remembered to pack Alexander's lunch, completely ordinary thoughts that evaporated the moment the van pulled up and men in masks

[ALESSIA'S POV]The house looks exactly the same as it did when we left it a week ago, but somehow it feels different when Jeffrey unlocks the front door and we all step inside on Sunday afternoon with our bags from my mother's place and the tentative hope that maybe we can actually stay this time. The boys immediately scatter to their rooms, excited to be back in their own spaces with their own things, and I can hear them upstairs arguing cheerfully about whose turn it is to pick the movie for tonight's family viewing. Jeffrey sets down our bags in the entryway and looks at me with a question in his eyes, silently asking if I'm okay, if coming home feels safe or if I'm going to spiral into anxiety about Victoria finding us here even though she's locked up without possibility of bail this time."It feels good to be home," I say, and I mean it even though there's still a kernel of fear lodged somewhere in my chest that probably won't go away for a while. "Strange, but good. Like we've

[ALESSIA'S POV]Coming home from the cabin feels like emerging from a protective bubble back into the real world with all its complications and responsibilities, and I'm not entirely ready for it even though I know we can't hide in the mountains forever. The drive home is quieter than the drive up was, the boys tired from a week of hiking and playing and staying up too late, and even Buddy seems subdued in his crate, like he knows the vacation is over and we're returning to normal life with school and work and all the structure that comes with it. Jeffrey reaches over and takes my hand as we pull into our driveway, squeezing gently in a way that says he understands what I'm feeling, that he's also reluctant to leave behind the simplicity of vacation and return to the complexity of our regular lives.The house smells stale when we walk in, that particular scent of a place that's been closed up for a week, and I immediately start opening windows while Jeffrey brings in the luggage and t