Chapter 6 - The Husband I Buried

Then

We planned our first date after I won the trial. Three weeks after Luis asked to borrow my pen.

The case had been ugly in its simplicity.

A young woman was dead. No witnesses. No confession. No forensic evidence placing anyone’s hands on her at the moment she died. What the prosecution had instead was a man who didn’t quite fit.

They had built their case on inference.

On timing that couldn’t be pinned down precisely. On messages that could be read two ways. On the idea that if you stood in the darkness long enough, eventually you became a part of it. They talked about motive without proving intent, about proximity without proving action. About the language he used, the people he associated with, the beliefs he held – as if those things could substitute for evidence.

I’d leaned hard on what they didn’t have.

No physical link. No reliable timeline. No proof that he’d been with her when she died, or that he’d laid a hand on her at all. Suspicion, however compelling, wasn’t enough. The law didn’t allow you to convict someone because the narrative felt right.

The judge agreed.

Luis caught up with me outside the courtroom after the verdict was read out. People spilled into the hallway, voices buzzing with energy at the outcome.

‘That was . . .’ he began, then stopped, searching for the right word, as if he refused to settle for the obvious. ‘Impressive.’

I glanced at him, amused despite myself. ‘You’re not meant to talk to counsel.’

‘I know,’ he said easily, smiling. ‘I waited until it was over.’

I should have shut it down. Filed it under ‘out of bounds’.

I knew the rules – knew them so well they lived in my bones. But I couldn’t hide my smile. Maybe it was the adrenaline still humming through me. Maybe it was the electric feeling of being seen when I was at my sharpest.

The man I’d just defended on a murder charge walked toward me, hesitating when he saw Luis, who met his gaze and nodded. A small gesture, respectful. It was subtle, but it mattered. He visibly relaxed.

‘I can’t thank you enough,’ he said to me, his voice thick with disbelief. ‘Really.’

I smiled. ‘Sure.’

‘Now I’m going to get a burger,’ he said, laughing like he couldn’t believe his own good fortune.

‘Enjoy,’ I said, and then he was gone, swallowed by the crowd.

Luis fell into step beside me as I headed for the exit, matching my pace so that we were walking out together.

‘Nice work,’ he said smoothly. ‘The evidence was—’

‘Circumstantial.’ I cut Luis off with a brisk smile. ‘Not even close to being beyond reasonable doubt.’

I looked at him, saw the admiration in his eyes, and something in me feasted on his approval.

Just outside the courthouse doors, I stopped, the fall air cool against my face. ‘We shouldn’t be talking here,’ I said, suddenly self-conscious. Too many eyes. Too many rules.

‘OK,’ Luis said amicably. No resistance. ‘How about tonight, then? Over dinner.’

I looked away, a little stunned by how easily he said it, by how natural it sounded.

‘I can’t,’ I said. It was an instinctive reflex. I was turning down a date with a man I would usually very much want to have dinner with.

‘Of course you can,’ he said, unfazed. ‘Come on. It’ll be fun.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘You have a boyfriend.’ He placed a hand on his forehead, genuinely embarrassed. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘No, it’s not that,’ I said quickly, realizing too late that I should’ve let him believe it. It would have been simpler.

He thought about that for a second. ‘OK,’ he said finally. ‘Listen, I don’t want to make a fool of myself any more than I have, but I like you. So, I’m just going to say this.’ He paused, making sure I was listening. ‘I’m going to dinner tonight at Le Chateau. Seven o’clock. I’ll be alone at a table for two. You’re very welcome to join me if you change your mind.’

I stared at him.

You had to book at Le Chateau months in advance. How could he have known he’d ask me out today? The ruling could’ve easily been delayed. Again.

Maybe he had got a table because he had connections.

Or maybe whoever he was meant to go with couldn’t make it.

Lucky me.

I watched him walk away with a sudden sinking feeling, like I’d lost something I never even had.

I couldn’t decide if he was serious or messing with me. Le Chateau was the kind of restaurant you only got a booking at if you were famous, very rich, or very well connected.

I imagined the feel of velvety dining chairs, the soft candlelight. I pictured us eating poached langoustines swimming in beurre blanc. Sipping perfectly chilled Prosecco, and laughing at something he’d said.

I couldn’t go.

Could I?

*

Later at home, I dressed, telling myself I was just changing out of my work clothes. That I could still say no. That I might even stay in, have a solo date and order some takeout. I could pretend the whole thing had never happened.

I checked the time again. I picked up my keys. Put them down. Picked them up again. The indecisiveness made my stomach dip.

The ride there passed in a blur, and still I sat in the car, deciding whether to go inside. So, this was how people arrived fashionably late. Through a bout of indecision.

Walking into the restaurant, I felt underdressed in my simple black dress.

I couldn’t remember what made me finally go inside.

What I do remember clearly is Luis standing when I arrived, looking impossibly handsome in a crisp blue suit.

‘So,’ he said, raising his glass once I’d sat down, ‘I think congratulations are in order. You argued beautifully.’

I laughed at his choice of words. If I was a man, he wouldn’t say I argued ‘beautifully’. He would’ve picked something more masculine.

‘What?’ he asked with faux hurt.

‘Nothing,’ I replied, taking my own glass by the stem.

‘You dismantled the prosecution while barely raising your voice. It was perfect.’

He tapped his glass to mine gently and drank.

‘You gave them nothing to grab onto,’ Luis continued. ‘Every time they tried to define him, you reframed it.’

‘That’s my job.’

‘It’s more than that,’ he said. ‘You didn’t just defend him. You saw him. Not as a criminal, but as a person with a story of his own.’

‘He didn’t deserve to be charged,’ I said. ‘Having strange beliefs isn’t a crime. They had no proof he acted on them.’

Luis’s eyes flickered. Not disagreement. Interest. ‘No,’ he said. ‘But it scares people when someone believes too completely.’

‘You saw it too,’ I said, taking a sip from my glass. It was clear by the way he expressed it that he looked beyond the surface.

‘You convinced the jury he wasn’t dangerous,’ Luis said. ‘Even when everyone else wanted him to be.’

‘That’s the law,’ I replied. ‘Facts over fear.’

He smiled at that, but it wasn’t wide and charming like I expected. It was something quieter.

‘Most people don’t have the discipline for that,’ he said. ‘They want certainty. Someone to blame.’

‘And you?’ I asked.

‘I admire bravery,’ he said. ‘The ability to see what’s really there and not shirk what you find.’

‘Shirk what you find,’ I repeated, smiling. ‘You sound like a pamphlet.’

‘Aren’t you afraid you’ll let a murderer go free?’ he asked, his eyes intense.

I leaned in on my elbow. ‘I’m more afraid of taking someone’s freedom for no reason.’

He poured more wine into our glasses, filling them, and the conversation moved on. I asked what he did for work.

‘Consulting,’ he said smoothly. ‘Mostly advisory.’

‘That’s vague.’

He smiled. ‘It’s flexible. What I do changes a lot depending on the company.’

‘And Le Chateau?’ I asked lightly. ‘How did you manage the booking?’

‘A friend of mine works here,’ he said. ‘He owed me a favor.’

I didn’t pry.

Later, I would think about how easily he’d slipped into my orbit. He hadn’t approached me when I was vulnerable. He’d found me in the courtroom, doing what I loved, standing in the place I felt strongest. Somehow, that made it easier to trust him.

That night, as the evening wound down, it was clear neither one of us wanted it to end.