Zhan's Pov.
The courtroom was heavy with silence after the last video cut to black. My breathing was shallow, my hands were cold despite the warmth in the room. I didn't even realize I was trembling until Mr Fengmian gently touched my shoulder.
The judge cleared his throat, visibly shaken, and adjusted his glasses like he needed to collect himself.
"The court," he finally said, his voice just slightly unsteady, "is adjourned for one hour."
His gavel came down with a soft thud, but it sounded like thunder in my ears.
People started moving, some stood, others whispered, some just sat there in stunned silence. I couldn't move. My legs wouldn't let me.
Then, I felt it, a stare. The kind of stare that makes your heart drop into your stomach.
I lifted my head.
The judge was still looking at me. But it wasn't just sympathy or formality anymore. There was a glimmer of something else, sadness, yes... but also a certain unease. Then his eyes shifted, just slightly, over my shoulder.
Curious, and unsure why my heart had started pounding, I turned my head to follow his line of sight.
She was standing near the back, half in the shadows.
Mrs. Wang.
Her eyes were fixed on the judge, her face unreadable, but the intensity in her gaze made my blood run cold. Her lips were pressed into a thin, tight line, and though she didn't say a word, it was like her expression spoke volumes.
Then she turned those eyes to me.
I flinched.
She didn't look angry. She didn't look sad.
She looked calculating.
Like she was reevaluating a chessboard and just realized she'd made a mistake. Like she was realizing something about me she hadn't wanted to believe before.
And that scared the hell out of me.
I dropped my eyes, suddenly dizzy. My throat tightened. I could hear voices around me but they were muffled, like underwater.
I hated this.
I hated that look.
And I hated what it meant.
Because whatever game she had played before, it was changing now. And I had no idea what move she was planning next.
Dre led me out into the hallway where it was quieter, away from the courtroom's tension that still clung to my skin like damp clothes. He didn't say much, he just handed me a paper bag with food. Rice and chicken, the smell warm and familiar, but foreign too, like I hadn't eaten something normal in years.
I took a few bites. Chewed slowly. Swallowed even slower. My throat felt like sandpaper.
Dre sat beside me, silent, giving me space the way he always did.
Then his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen. "It's your grandmother," he said softly, holding it out to me.
My hand froze midair. For a second, I just stared at the phone like it was a ghost.
Then I took it.
"Hello?" My voice cracked, barely a whisper.
There was silence on the other end. And then
"Zhan?" she breathed, like she was afraid saying my name would shatter the moment.
That's all it took.
Tears blurred my vision before I could stop them. My lips trembled. I couldn't speak. I couldn't form words.
But she knew.
"Oh my baby," she sobbed. "My sweet baby, I thought... I thought..."
Her voice broke.
I pressed the phone tighter to my ear, curling into myself, the food forgotten in my lap. I didn't say anything. I couldn't. But I didn't have to.
She cried.
I cried.
Dre's hand found my back, rubbing gentle circles like an anchor.
And somewhere in the middle of it, I heard muffled sniffles. Dre too, biting back tears, turning away to give us privacy.
It was like a conversation without language.
Just grief.
And love.
And relief.
As if, for one brief moment, time bent and held space for something sacred. Something broken, trying desperately to stitch itself whole again.
I didn't say I'm okay. Because I wasn't.
I didn't say I'll come home. Because I wasn't sure where that was anymore.
But I cried into her silence.
And she cried into mine.
And it was enough.
The last thing she said—I love you—rang in my head long after the call ended.
It wrapped around my chest like a blanket, warming something in me I hadn't realized had frozen. For a moment, I let myself breathe again. Just a little.
"How's Wang?" I asked Dre, my voice barely above a murmur as I wiped the remnants of tears from my eyes.
Dre exhaled like he didn't want to answer but did anyway. "He should be somewhere here."
I nodded, unsure what to do with that. But before I could respond, I caught sight of someone walking toward us from the far end of the hallway. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in quiet grief like it was tailored to fit.
If I didn't know Wang the way I did, I'd have sworn it was him.
"Hey," he said as he stopped beside me, then slowly took a seat.
I didn't look at him. "Hello."
"I'm sorry about my mom," he said after a moment. His voice carried a weight I hadn't heard in a long time—something raw and quiet. Almost... tired.
"It's okay," I said, still not meeting his eyes.
"It's not," he replied gently. "But what's done is done."
"Yeah." The word barely left my lips, and I felt that dull ache again. That silent, constant pulsing where something used to be—where we used to be.
We didn't say anything else.
The silence between us wasn't angry or tense. It was just... sad. A quiet mourning of something that once lived and burned so brightly but now sat cold between us.
Eventually, an officer walked past, calling people in again.
Without a word, we rose.
And we walked into the courtroom.
I took my seat beside the two lawyers—Mr. Fengmian on my right, the grey-haired woman on my left.
I tried not to look around. Tried not to search for familiar eyes.
But I could still feel Wang somewhere behind me.
Close.
And yet, too far.
The courtroom was so silent, I could hear my heartbeat.
The judge shuffled some papers, cleared his throat, and adjusted his glasses—small motions that felt loud in the tension-filled room.
"After careful review of the presented evidence," he began, voice firm but steady, "including authenticated videos, photographs, medical documents, and witness testimonies, this court finds the defendants. Meng Ziyi, Wen Xu, Xue Yang, Jin Zixuan, and Wen Chao—guilty on all charges."
A collective breath was held.
"For the prolonged abuse, blackmail, coercion, physical assault, and emotional torture inflicted on the plaintiff, Zhan Xiao—this court hereby sentences the defendants to life imprisonment without the possibility of parole."
Gasps. Whispers. A murmur that rippled through the gallery like a wave.
I sat frozen.
Not even relief could move me. Just... numbness. I think I forgot how to breathe.
"You are free to go, Zhan Xiao," the judge continued, this time his eyes briefly resting on mine. "You are no longer bound to their cruelty. You walk out of this courtroom a free man."
My throat tightened.
Mr. Fengmian reached over and gave my shoulder a small squeeze, his expression unreadable but somehow reassuring.
Beside me, the slim, grey-haired woman turned and smiled softly, her eyes kind. "Congratulations," she said gently.
I blinked.
She'd told me her name several times—I knew she had—but for the life of me, I couldn't recall it. My mind was still in the courtroom, in those years, still breaking out of the chains that once held me.
People began packing up, standing, shuffling, whispering.
But I sat still for a moment longer, drinking it all in.
I turned my head then.
To look at them.
Meng. Wen Chao. Wen Xu. Xue Yang. Jin Zixuan.
Their faces were pale. Empty. Some were in disbelief. Some trembling with quiet rage. Some with the stunned realization that they couldn't buy their way out of this.
And Meng—her face cracked something in me.
Gone was the haughty, untouchable smirk.
She looked like a ghost of herself.
Afraid.
I didn't smile.
I just stood.
Tall. Proud. Whole.
And I walked past them without flinching.
As soon as I stepped out of the courtroom doors, it hit me like a storm.
Cameras flashed.
Questions were thrown like stones.
"Zhan Xiao, how do you feel about the verdict?!"
"Do you think justice was truly served?!"
"Will you be pressing any more charges?!"
"Are you planning to speak out publicly?!"
Microphones, hands, flashing lights—faces blurred by the chaos, voices overlapping in a cacophony of curiosity and noise.
But I didn't stop.
Didn't say a word.
Didn't even flinch.
I kept walking, past the reporters, past the security detail that held them back. I didn't owe anyone anything. Not an explanation, not a quote. My silence was the loudest thing I could offer. It was mine. And for the first time, it was powerful.
Then I saw them.
Wang.
His mom.
His dad.
They were standing a short distance away, right by the stairs—Wang's hands clasped in front of him, tense. His mom looked stiff, her mouth a firm line, her eyes flicking to me, unreadable. His father stood behind her, older than I remembered, more tired somehow.
And a few feet away, Lusi was with Wang's brother—who looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. Lusi leaned close to him, whispering something in his ear with a fake laugh. Then her eyes found me.
She gave me a look.
A sharp, poisonous one—like she thought she still held the crown.
And I smirked.
Not loud or arrogant. Just enough.
Enough to remind her she didn't break me.
She didn't win.
That they didn't win.
Her smile dropped like a dead petal.
I shifted my eyes away from her and locked eyes with Wang. He didn't move. He just looked at me like I was something he wanted to speak to—but couldn't find the words for. Like he was silently asking a thousand things and I didn't have the energy to answer any of them.
So I gave him the same thing I gave the cameras.
Nothing.
And I walked past.
Zhan, I heard his voice behind me.
It was soft—cautious, almost. Like he was afraid I wouldn't stop.
But I did. I turned around slowly... and there he was, standing with a travel bag beside me.
"I... I think I took your bag by mistake in Canada," Wang said, nudging it toward me, eyes not quite meeting mine.
I blinked at it, then crouched down and unzipped it, half out of curiosity, half because my hands needed something to do.
Inside... my breath caught.
I looked up at him, my voice low. "Oh... it's for you."
He looked confused. "For me?"
I nodded slowly. "Your wedding gift."
His mouth parted in surprise, but I didn't give him time to speak. I reached inside and brought out the small velvet box first, opening it to reveal the necklace—silver, simple, with a tiny W & Z charm.
"I bought it with all my savings," I said, laughing softly at how ridiculous it sounded now. "It was supposed to be your wedding gift"
His eyes stayed fixed on it, something unreadable flickering across his face.
Then I pulled out the sketchbook. "And this... these are drawings of you. I made them over time. Some are silly. Some are from memory. But they're all yours."
I opened a page briefly—one of him laughing with his eyes closed, something I hadn't seen in a long time—and then handed the book over.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The noise of the world melted around us. It was just him and me and everything we had never said.
"Can you..." he paused, then turned around slightly, voice thick, "Can you wear the necklace for me?"
I swallowed hard.
Then, without thinking, I stepped forward and gently clasped it around his neck, fingers brushing his skin like a memory. The chain settled against the collar of his shirt, the charm resting on his heart.
He turned to face me again, his fingers lifting the charm with a look so gentle it nearly broke me.
"Thank you," he said, voice raw.
"You're welcome," I replied, just as softly.
And for one small moment, it was as if the world paused. Like we were still in that quiet before everything went wrong. Just two boys. Just love.