**A Matter of the Heart**
“Your Honour, I withdraw my financial claim against the defendant,” Thomas said quietly. A murmur of confusion rippled through the courtroom.
The judge, accustomed to most things, raised an eyebrow.
“Mr. Thompson, you understand this decision wont affect the verdict but will forfeit your right to compensation?”
“I do.”
Emilydespite her youth, colleagues addressed her formally as “Miss Carter”continued typing without emotion. Five years in this job had numbed her to human pettiness and folly. Her role was to record the endless parade of weakness dispassionately. She saw herself as a train conductor, hauling carriages loaded with other peoples tragedies.
The case against Lucy W. was the kind the press adored. Another con artist, expertly swindling “suitors” on dating sites. Four men, none of whom had met her, sent large sums to her account. Not one made it to a first date. To one, she lied about family in a car crash; to another, a vindictive ex-husband seizing cutlery; to a third, a sick child
“Whats new?” Emily thought, organising case files. Four grown men, seemingly successful, had donned knightly armour, believing money could rescue a damsel and win true love. In reality, theyd been texting a married mother of three.
Now they were all herethe defendant, the victims. Three sat rigid with bitterness, demanding repayment, their words venomous. They werent wrong. The law was on their side. Emily mechanically noted familiar phrases: “emotional distress,” “deception,” “fraudulent intent.”
The fourth, Thomas Thompson, sat apart. No anger, no pity. When he renounced his claim, the room stilled. One “suitor” spun around.
“Are you mad? She played you for a fool! Your money probably bought her husband a phone!”
Thomas regarded him with quiet sadness. “I know. But she has three children. Let the money stay with them. I dont need it back.”
Emily looked up, startled. Generosity was rare here. She studied his handsa welders, resting calmly on his kneesand his eyes, free of resentment. In a world where everyone clutched for themselves, he simply let go.
Afterward, a victims lawyer shook his head. “Hopeless romantic, that one. Naïve as a child.”
Usually silent, Emily countered, “Not naïve. Strong. Strength money cant buy.”
The room fell silent. No one had heard “Iron Emily” speak like that. She surprised even herself.
In later hearings, she caught herself watching himhow he listened without interrupting, how his gaze lingered on the window as if searching the grey sky for answers only he sought.
On the final day, as the verdict was read, he lingered in the corridor, lost. Emily stepped out.
“Which way?” she asked briskly.
“Ahgot turned around.”
“Exits there.” She nodded.
“Thanks.”
He walked off, but she called after him.
“Thomas?” He turned, surprised.
“You were right,” she said, her voice unsteady. “About the children. It was decent.”
He studied her. “You know, Emily” He hesitated over formality.
“Em,” she offered.
“Em. Kindness is rare, even outside these walls. Thank you for noticing.”
He left. She watched him go, feeling her long-dormant heart quicken.
Then came the rain. A downpour as Thomas stepped outside. He paused under the awning, debating a dash to the bus stop.
A voice spoke behind him.
“Weve a government-issue umbrella. Meant for documents, but I think it can spare a good man.”
It was Emily, holding a black umbrella. Uncertainty flickered in her eyesas if she couldnt believe her own boldness.
“I wont keep you,” he said.
“My shifts over. Im headed to the park. If youre going that way”
They walked beneath the umbrella, careful not to brush shoulders. The silence was comfortable.
“You always defend victims like that?” Thomas finally asked.
“Never,” she admitted. “Youre the first who acted illogically. It shook me.”
“Foolish, maybe.”
“Rare. And rarity has value.”
At the park, the rain eased to a drizzle.
“Walk a bit?” Thomas asked. “Unless youre in a hurry.”
Emily hesitated a second. *Breach of protocol, Miss Carter*, she thoughtthen nodded.
“First time for me,” he said suddenly, clearly not
