Oliver

Courtroom 7. Oliver, the top lawyer, and his wife stood on opposite sides. They were assigned a case—a divorce between two people. Neither could lose.

"You're always playing on my weak spots!" my wife's voice rose to a scream.

"This is professional work!" Oliver slammed the table. "If only you could learn to win!"

— I win when I come home to you! When I cook dinner after you've destroyed me here!

— Don't you dare talk about love. You're using it as a trump card!

"And you're using your victory!" She pointed a finger at his chest.

"I win because I'm better!" Oliver yelled. "Because I'm a lawyer, and you're a woman playing lawyer!"

She looked at him as if he'd stabbed her. Then she swung and hit him in the face with the folder. Papers flew across the room.

"Miss!" the judge barked.

She was shaking. She was giving in. Oliver saw it too late.

"Your Honor, I request that we adjourn the hearing!" he shouted.

— Too late! Bailiffs!

Two men took her by the arms. She didn't resist, only stared into space.

"Don't touch her!" Oliver shouted.

She raised her head. There was no anger in her eyes. Only weariness and forgiveness.

“I still love you,” she whispered under her breath as the courtroom door closed behind her with a dull thud.