**A Curious Case**
*Personal Diary Entry*
“Your Honour, I withdraw my financial claim against the defendant,” Thomas said quietly. A murmur rippled through the courtroom, thick with bewilderment.
The judge, unshaken by most things, raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Harrison, you understand this decision wont affect the verdict but will forfeit your right to compensation?”
“I understand.”
Catherine Elizabethknown formally as Miss Whitmore by her colleagues despite her youthcontinued typing without a flicker of emotion. Five years in this job had stripped her of any surprise at human folly. Her duty was to record, impassively, the endless parade of weakness. Sometimes, she imagined herself as a train conductor, hauling carriages loaded with other peoples tragedies.
The case against Lydia W. was the sort the press adored. Another fraudster, adept at swindling lonely hearts through dating sites. Four men, none of whom had ever met her, sent large sums to her account. Not one made it to a first date. To one, she spun a tale of family in a car crash; to another, a vindictive ex-husband dividing even the cutlery; a third heard about a sick child
*Whats new about this?* Catherine thought as she prepared the case files. Four grown men, seemingly accomplished, had cast themselves as knights in shining armour. They believed money could rescue a damsel and buy true love. In reality, theyd been messaging a married mother of three.
Now, here they all werethe defendant, the plaintiffs. Three of them sat rigid with bitterness, demanding restitution, their words laced with venom. They werent wrong. The law was on their side. Catherine mechanically noted familiar phrases: *emotional distress, misrepresentation, fraudulent intent.*
One plaintiff, Thomas Harrison, sat slightly apart. No anger, no pity in his posture. When he renounced his claim, the room stilled. One of the men spun around, incredulous. “Have you lost your mind? She played you for a fool! That money probably bought her husband a new phone!”
Thomas met his gaze with quiet sadness. “I know. But she has three children. Let the money go to them. I dont need it back.”
Catherine looked up, startled. Generosity of spirit was rare in these walls. She studied his handsa welders hands, rough but steadyand his eyes, weary but free of malice. In a world where everyone fought for scraps, hed simply let go.
After the hearing, one plaintiffs lawyer shook his head. “That fourth ones a proper romantic. Naïve as a child.”
Usually silent, Catherine countered, “Its not naivety. Its strength. The kind no money can buy.”
The room fell silent. Even she was surprised by her own words.
In the following sessions, she caught herself watching himhow he listened without interruption, how his gaze lingered on the window as if searching the grey sky for answers only he cared to ask.
On the final day, after sentencing, he lingered in the corridor, disoriented. Catherine stepped out.
“Which way are you headed?” she asked, her tone crisp.
“Ahjust lost, I suppose,” he admitted with a faint smile.
“Exits that way.” She nodded.
“Thanks.”
He started off, but she called after him. “Thomas?”
He turned, surprised.
“You were right,” she said, her voice softening. “About the children. It was decent of you.”
He studied her. “You know, Catherine” He hesitated over her name.
“Kate,” she offered.
“Kate. Kindness is scarce, inside these walls or out. Thank you for noticing.”
He left. She watched him go, realizing her long-dormant heart had quickened.
What came next? Rain. A downpour, just as Thomas stepped outside. He paused under the awning, debating a dash to the bus stop.
A voice spoke behind him. “Weve a court-issue umbrella. Meant for documents, but I think itll suit a decent man.”
It was Kate, holding a black umbrella. Her eyes flickered with uncertainty, as if she couldnt believe her own boldness.
“I wont keep you,” he said.
“My shifts over. Im walking to the park. If youre going that way”
They walked side by side beneath the umbrella, careful not to brush shoulders. The silence was comfortable.
“You always defend plaintiffs like that?” he finally asked.
“Never,” she admitted. “Youre the first who acted illogically. It struck me.”
“Probably daft of me.”
“Its rare. And rarity has value.”
At the park, the rain eased to a drizzle.
“Fancy a walk?” he asked. “Unless youre in a hurry.”
Kate hesitated only a second. *Protocol breached, Miss Whitmore*, she thought, but nodded. Thomas gazed at the clearing sky. She gave him space.
“First time this has happened,” he said quietly. “People usually dont get it. Think Im odd.”
“Because you didnt turn bitter,” she murmured. “These days, thats practically eccentric.”
He eyed her. “And you? Do you think Im odd?”
“I think youre real. Thats precious. In my line of work, real is scarce.”
After a pause, he asked, “Want to know why? Why I fell for her lies?”
She nodded.
He sighed. “It startedand endedin school. Her name was Lily. What I felt wasnt just love. She was everythinglight, beauty, the unattainable. We were *that* couple. Carried her books, danced at prom I was sure itd last forever. So sure, I convinced everyone else too. We were the golden pair.”
“Then she left. Prestigious university in London, married a classmate. Sent me a postcardjust three words: *Sorry. Its better.*”
He exhaled. “Everything crumbled. I didnt drink or rage. Just went numb. Trained as a weldergood job for hiding behind a mask, drowning thoughts in noise. Built walls around my heart, but inside, that naive boy still believed in one love for life.”
“Then I saw *her* photo onlinethe scammer. She looked like Lily. And the caption*Still believe in love.* Pathetic, right? I messaged her. She wrote back all the things Id longed to hearforever love, loyalty, something real. It was the key to my fortress. I ignored the red flags because I *needed* the fairy tale. I didnt fall for her lies. I fell for an echo of my own dream. I didnt want *her*. I wanted proof that kind of love existed.”
“The trial it freed me. At first, I was humiliated. But seeing herjust a frightened, pitiful womanshattered the illusion. The ghost of Lily finally left. The money? A fee for exorcism. Pricey, but effective.”
He waited, as if expecting condemnation. Instead, Kate placed her hand over his. Hers was warm, steady.
“Thank you for telling me,” she said softly. “Now I understand. Youre not odd. Youre just true to yourself.”
***
At work, Kate was always “Miss Whitmore”reserved, exacting, all business. No personal life. When colleagues spotted her with Thomasmeeting her after hoursthey buzzed with disbelief.
Judge Margaret Hayes, a woman whose stare could halt criminals mid-step, broke the silence first. “Well, Miss Whitmore surprises us. Thought she had a filing cabinet for a heart. Now looka romance with the plaintiff.”
Her younger colleague, Judge Edward Lowe, smirked. “With his naivety, hes more like a defendant for lacking self-preservation. Or a perpetual victim under Excessive Gullibility. Miss Whitmores reforming him, is she?”
“Edward, enough,” Margaret chided, though her lips quirked. “The mans hardworking. Skilled. And what he did it was principled. Rare in our line.”
In the break room, solicitor Charles shook his head. “Never thought Id see courtroom romance. Like a bleeding soap opera.”
Kate hadnt softened professionally, but she smiled at her phone sometimes. Wore a delicate silver chain she hadnt before.
Behind her back, the office splitcynics and romantics.
The men predicted doom: “Next thing, well be witnesses at their wedding. Yes, Your Honour, I saw the defendant steal the plaintiffs heart.”
The womenespecially younger onessighed. “Its beautiful! Miss Whitmore, so stern, and himwounded but kind. And handsome! Straight out of a novel.”
Accountant Valerie huffed. “Envy quietly. Weve forgotten what real feeling looks like. A good-hearted mans rarer than hens teeth. Kates smart. Let her be happy.”
One morning, Edward couldnt resist. “Miss Whitmore, hows your noble rescuer? Filed any more claims out of the goodness of his heart?”
The room held its breath.
Kate sipped her tea, set it down, and fixed him with a calm stare. “Edward, if youre so interested in closed cases, I can grant full archive access. Fancy revisiting Case No. 3-452/18? Or 2-187/19? Plenty of *colourful* characters there.”
Silence. Edward choked on his coffee. He knewshed processed his cases too, knew things hed rather forget.
“No, no, Kate! Just friendly concern.”
“How kind,” she said sweetly. “But my private life isnt up for judicial review. Yet.”
Open mockery died after that. Curiosity remained, tinged with respect. The climax came when Thomas dropped her off one morningholding her car door, adjusting her coat collar. Just a gesture. But so tender, so *certain*, that any lingering doubts vanished.
That day, Margaret pulled her aside. “Kate hes good. It shows. Hold onto him.”
The only verdict Kate accepted without objection. Just a nod:
“Thank you, Margaret. I know.”
The gossip faded. Colleagues understood: their unflappable secretary, keeper of order and protocol, had passed her own sentence
*Pardoned. To love. To be happy.*
And it was final.
