Noah took a slow breath, his chest rising and falling once. He still did not look at me, his face pale under the fluorescent glare.
“I want to live with my father,” Noah said.
The room seemed to grow very quiet, the only sound being the low hum of the air vents in the ceiling.
“Can you tell me why you prefer that arrangement?” Judge Miller asked, leaning forward slightly.
Noah looked down at his own shoes, his shoulders tightening further. He spoke in a formal, unusually mature vocabulary.
“I want to live with Dad because my mom can’t give me anything,” Noah said.
I felt the air leave my lungs, a cold weight settling behind my ribs. My hand went to my bare ring finger, rubbing the skin where the gold band used to be.
“Noah, that isn’t true,” I whispered, but my voice was too small to carry across the well of the court.
Ellis did not smile, but he straightened his tie, his gold watch slipping back under his cuff. “The boy is old enough to recognize stability, Your Honor.”
“Mrs. Chappell,” the judge said, looking at me with a mild, pitying expression. “Do you have the proof of your current lease and your utility statements?”
I reached into my canvas bag again, but my hand touched only the empty bottom. The green school folder was gone, and with it, the only printed copies of my rental agreement.
“I had them,” I said, my voice shaking slightly. “They were in the green folder.”
“The court needs physical documentation to establish a stable environment,” Judge Miller said, signing a blue form on his desk. “In light of the child’s clear statement and the lack of verified local housing, temporary physical custody is awarded to the father.”
The judge stood up, his robes billowing as he walked back toward his chambers.
