Leonardo

Amara's custody trial for Faizy had always been the matter that pushed her over the edge. Always the calm and rational woman, when it came to her son Faizy's topic, Amara morphed into a reckless, mad woman.

Yes, mad. I had the sole experience of seeing her abuse the living hell out of her ex-husband when he first informed her about filing for Faizy's custody.

Things were never good between Amara and her ex- Holden. They met during a friend's wedding, got married at a whim and had a kid without first charting the direction of their relationship. When Amara got into the Army, she had lesser time to spend with her son. Adding to that, the difference which both Amara and Holden didn't consider before cropped up to separate them.

"It's gonna be fine," Amara said as soon as we got out of the car and walked the steps of the courthouse. "It's really gonna be fine."

She wasn't imbibing me with confidence. Those words were her affirmation. Her strength.

With the couple unable to find a common ground in Faisy's custody, the mediation failed. The trial was the last thing on Amara's mind but as was with most divorced couples, bitterness and resentment made Holden decide for it.

Amara was out, serving the country when she was informed of the news. She found the right timing to come back as my caregiver, resigning from her job to seek a more stable one where she wouldn't be away from her child.

The phone in my hand buzzed. Zem's name flashed up.

"Hello there," I answered, hearing her sigh on the call. Since the last time I heard her holding her ground against my father, I knew Zemira could tackle anything. What she couldn't handle was our distance.

"I miss you," her grumpy voice, annoyed grunt and another huff of air answered. "Come back soon."

"I will, baby." I smiled into the phone, stooping my head lower. Since Amara was wound up tighter than usual, I didn't want her to be annoyed, watching me act like a teenager while talking to my fiancée. "I'm at the courthouse."

The moment I said it, Zemira's tone hardened. "You know, they can dig up anything against you too."

"Don't you think I know that?"

"You do," a louder, more frustrating grunt emerged. "But all I'm asking is be prepared."

"I will, darling." My heart melted at her concern. Heck, everything about me melted at the way she loved me. Love me.

After we said our goodbyes, I walked up to Amara and her lawyer. That man in his early thirties looked too young to defend and win but he came highly recommended. Amara spared no expense in hiring him. For her, it was a matter of life or death.

If she lost, Holden would take Faizy out of the country, making her suffer every time she wanted to see her child.

Funny how love made us do crazy things. I was sure, when Amara and Holden got married, they must not have considered divorce or anything that could separate them. After all, love made everyone blind.

Only when they fell out of it, did reality hit them. Hard.

Stuck in a tug of war between two parents was Faizy. Sweet and innocent, I only had the privilege of meeting him once. Once was enough. In that one meeting, I realized why Amara was ready to drain all her resources on that kid.

Faizy's kind and empathetic nature astound me. He may have been away from Amara while she served in the reserves, he imbibed her true nature in almost everything. Even unrequited anger.

Amara looked inside her handbag, her hand ruffling through stuff. Her lawyer, who gave her some last-minute pointers, looked over his shoulder and rendered a tight nod to me.

"Amara," I called her but she continued ruffling through her stuff. "Have you forgotten something?"

She nodded. Silence. "My..." More ruffling. "Found it."

In her hand rested a small, plastic duck. It was barely the size of a small child's fist. A paler shade of green, she showed it to us and smiled as if it reminded her of something.

"Pretty sure, Faisy, would like it when I'd give it to him after the hearing," she said. Her worried disappeared behind the glint of her brown, dilated pupils, ignoring her lawyer's apprehensive head nod.

Amara was expecting a good outcome. She wasn't prepared for the worst.

When the suited man moved out of my way, his finger directing us to walk in within five minutes, I bridged the distance with Amara. Still, in her happy, hopeful state, she looked at me. Sliding my tie slightly to the left, she patted my lapel.

"Without Zem, you can even wear a tie properly." Her taunt made my eyes roll inwards. "And to think that at one time, you wanted nothing to do with her."

Grappling with guilt over my past idiotic decisions, I set them aside. My friend needed me today and I needed to make her understand the grim reality. She had equal chances to win or lose the battle we were about to march on.

"You're worried for me," Amara began. "But you don't have to."

"It's what I said to you after my amputation but did you listen?"

Chuckling, she nodded. "You were stupid to think you didn't need help."

"You're acting the same, Amara. You know there's a chance-"

"I know." Biting into her lower lip, she dragged a long, deep breath. "I know all too well, what the outcome would be."

But still...

As if she understood what I waited for, she held the sides of my arms and looked up. The mirth in her eyes was replaced with a cold, calculated look. In her current form, Amara looked less comforting and more vicious. She looked like a female predator who knew it was her last chance to strike and save her offspring.

I realized it was what my mother did too when dad decided to ostracize me. Instinctively, she channeled her inner motherly predator and pulled her shareholder's trump card. All mothers, when it came to matters of their child's wellbeing, acted crazy.

The good kind of crazy.

"I know that I can lose the custody battle today. That Holden may take Faizy away from me and torture me every day for the rest of my life." She clenched and unclenched her palms as if readying her body to punch something. "But at this moment, I have hope. I'd go mad if I don't hope that there's still a chance, my kid would come home with me today."

The wonderful and confusing thing about a mother's love, which I'd never be able to understand, warmed my heart. Holding her side, I rubbed her coated back, patting the crown of her head.

I never had a sister. For all terms and purposes, Amara was one for me. At that moment, I beamed proudly of her.

~

By the time both parties made their arguments about what was beneficial for Faizy, it looked like an uneven match. Amara was painted as a busy, unavailable mother. Holden- the shining armored father.

Needless to say, the judge wasn't impressed at her request and she knew it well. Having trained in the art of reading a person, I could very well see the frown lines on the judge's face whenever Amara's lawyer's tried reasoning or justifying in her favor.

I was supposed to be the last resort. Since I succumbed to my addiction, I was a wild choice to be bought to be a character witness. Yet, the drowning side needed anything to remain afloat. My name was called to the stand.

After the initial formality of my introduction to the judge, of how I met Amara and how she was the angel in a human form to be, the intense grilling began.

Holden's lawyer - a woman in a navy blue bodycon dress, high heels shoes with red soles that Zemira had in millions in her shoe rack, and a tied-up bun on her head, looked lethal in appearance. Then she opened her mouth.

"How long were you addicted to the painkillers, Mr. Brenton."

"Is that relevant why I'm sitting here?" I asked, cementing her risen eyebrows. "I thought I had to testify for Amara's character. Not mine."

"Well," she clasped her hands shut. The stenographer sitting below the judge's podium halted her typing, watching her. "It's relevant to know who is helping whom. You see, Sergeant, if you are an addict, the honorable court would look at your testimony in a different light."

This was a tempting moment. She wanted me to lie. I knew better than to speak the truth but it all boiled down to how the judge would look at my side, see my reasoning.

"I think you are wrong, Miss..." I began, my arm waved in the air, dismissing her emerging words. "I don't judge you for what you were, who you've been with yesterday or why you've decided to keep your marriage under wraps for so long."

The woman who channeled the devil into her looked frightened. She looked over her shoulder to Holden's side, ensuring he wasn't the one who leaked about her personal life. What Miss. Devil forgot was that we had Haley -shaper than a bloodhound when it came to discovering a person's closeted skeletons.

Before she could reel back from the punch I delivered, I struck again.

"Now I know you'd say, it's not you who is on trial." I looked at the judge, resting his flabby chin on his knuckles. "I agree. I decided to testify for Amara's character, so obviously I'd be put under scrutiny."

The room fell silent. Draft from somewhere blew over my back as I leaned over the wooden desk, peering at Holden and other juniors from Miss. Devil's law firm.

"About my addiction," I looked at Amara's lawyer, who submitted my fitness certificate and my blood reports to the judge. "I've been clean. And I'm under therapy to ensure I stay the same."

The judge nodded, allowing me to continue. "I could've been scared, knowing my life would be skimmed through to find faults. But this isn't about me or my addiction. This trial is about a woman who served in the reserves, went above and beyond her line of duty to not only save me from dying but also ensured I thrived, I survived. This trial is about Amara and her ability to be a good mother."

Miss. Devil, who shifted her weight from one foot to another, began. "It's a beautiful story."

"Trust me, I'd have loved for it to be a story. Sadly, it's the truth."

Before she could continue her bagger, I waved my hand. "Don't get me wrong. What we do in the army is hyped up in the movies. We don't fly off helicopters." The sparsely spread crowd chuckled. A gavel banged, making them silent. "But we do suffer some serious stuff. PTDS, seeing our friends, colleagues dead." Amara nodded into her chest. "Moreover, the doctors and nurses get to bear patients like me, who refuse to eat medicines and exercise... Technically, a prick."

"Mr. Brenton," the judge admonished but gave a soft smile. "Stay on track."

"Sure," I smiled back, peering at Miss. Devil's rattled and unhinged expressions. "So to sum it up, if Miss. Safi can endure the pain of seeing her patients die, handle a crazy, almost useless man like me and make me stand back on my feet - only one is good, by the way..." More chuckles encouraged me to speak. "Then I know that she'd be the best mother to her child. She'd bare what may come for Faizy upon her and never let that boy even its whispery air, let alone pain. Because Amara Safi isn't just a great nurse, a brilliant friend or a wise-ass sister, she's also a fiercely loyal and protective woman."

I didn't know how addressing, acknowledging what Amara did for me, liberated me. I couldn't keep a finger on it but what little burden I felt on my chest, from the thought of her losing Faisy or knowing my girl was about to face the biggest trial of her life; withered. I no longer felt the suffocating past, no longer wanted to hide from what I once became.

I acknowledged, embraced everything about me - the past and the present. The stupid, illogical side as well as the one which would always be indebted to three strong, fierce women.

We moved out for the courtroom while the judge convened in his chamber to meet with both the parents. After what felt like an eternity, Amara stormed outside, tears spilling from her eyes. She wiped it off, dashing towards me. In one quick motion, she embraced me hard.

Her lawyer, who emerged seconds later, gave me a thumbs up. Relief spread like wildfire. My paced up breaths shallowed.

"I hope you're happy now," I said, patting the crown of her head. "You've been sole custody, isn't it?"

She nodded over my chest. "Thank you," a muffled sob.

"Why? I spoke the truth."

She looked up, blinking, heaving. Crying some more. "It means a lot, coming from you, Leo. I always thought you hated me."

I couldn't help smile at her. She may be a grown-up, a mother of a seven-year-old child but in some ways, Amara was a child herself. "Anyone would hate a chatterbox when they're trying to sleep."

At that moment, the bitterness of the past which coated my mouth every time I addressed it, vanished. I felt the sweetness of those memories we created. Of how we endured each other, only to realize we both needed each other in more than one way.

Some say it right. People walk into our lives to either teach us a lesson or become a part of it. Amara, unknown to me had become a bigger part of my life than I ever gave her credit for. 

~

Bigger things are about to come..

Are you ready?