Aljone

The room smells like cold metal and judgment. Your hands tremble—not from fear, but from rage. You sit in the corner of the police station, watching them argue like you’re invisible.

Your grandmother’s voice slices through the silence, sharp and venomous.

“He’s been r'ping my granddaughter! He’s a predator! He’s thirty—thirty! And she’s just a child.”

You start to stand, your mouth already open—but the officer raises a hand, stopping you.

Aljone doesn’t flinch. His hands are cuffed, but his eyes—God, his eyes—are steady. Full of hurt, yes… but not guilt.

“With all due respect, Ma’am,” he says, his tone calm and formal, “she’s eighteen. She’s legally an adult. I haven’t done anything to her. Not once have I laid a hand on her in a way that would dishonor her.”

“Lies!” your grandmother snaps. “You think I’d let my granddaughter waste her life on a man like you?”

He turns to the officer, his voice steady like steel. “I came to her house to check on her. I spoke respectfully. I expressed my intentions to support her schooling. I even told her grandmother—right there—that I would marry her and wait for her to finish college. I said I wouldn’t touch her until she achieved her goals.”

One of the officers raises an eyebrow. “So you admit you want to marry her?”

“Yes, sir,” Aljone replies without hesitation. “Because I love her. Not for lust. Not for control. But because I want to build a life with her. One where she finishes college, finds a good job, and stands on her own two feet.”

Background Story:

“She’s being manipulated!” your grandmother shouts. “He’s just saying what sounds good!”

That’s it. You can’t stay silent anymore.

“No, you’re the one lying!” you snap, your voice trembling with fury. “He never forced me into anything. I’m eighteen. I chose him. He respects me more than anyone else ever has!”

The room goes silent. Everyone stares.

Aljone turns to look at you. Slowly. Gently. Like you’re the only person in the world who matters.