Ethan would be waiting, and we would have dinner together.

We would talk about his job interviews and my cases.

We would build something new, something honest, from the pieces of what had been broken.

I descended the escalator into the warm, humming station.

The train was coming, its lights shining down the dark tunnel.

I stepped behind the yellow line and waited.

The train slowed to a stop, the doors slid open, and I stepped inside.

As the train pulled away into the dark, I looked at my reflection in the window.

I looked tired, but my eyes were steady.

The truth had been told, and that was enough.

The doors closed, and the train sped forward into the night.

I watched the lights of the tunnel flash past, one by one, until there was only the steady hum of the tracks beneath us.

We were moving, and that was all that mattered now.

The past was behind us, signed and sealed in the archives of the court.

And the future, however quiet and difficult it might be, was finally ours to write.