The courtroom felt unusually still that morning, as if everyone sensed the weight of what was about to happen. My ex-husband stood confidently beside his lawyer, certain the custody decision would favor him. He told the judge that our eight-year-old son wanted to live with him, presenting it as settled truth. Across the room, my son sat alone on a bench, legs swinging, hands folded, trying to look brave in a space far too large for him.
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