Page 35
Story: The Temporary Wife
The courthouse was an imposing brick building that had stood in the center of Millbrook for over a century. As we walked up the steps, I saw David Voight waiting for us near the entrance, briefcase in hand and expression serious but confident.
“How are we looking?” Colby asked.
“Good. I’ve reviewed Lyla’s evidence, and while it’s compelling, it’s not insurmountable. The key is going to be demonstrating the genuine nature of your current relationship.” David’s gaze included both of us. “The judge will be looking for authenticity, for evidence that this marriage has evolved beyond its original purpose.”
“And if we can’t prove that?”
“Then we deal with whatever comes next. But I believe we can prove it. Your marriage may have started as a legal arrangement, but what I’ve witnessed between you two over the past few weeks is absolutely genuine.”
Inside the courthouse, we found seats in the gallery behind our lawyer’s table. The room was smaller than I’d expected, more intimate, which somehow made it feel more intimidating rather than less. Lyla sat across the aisle with her attorney, perfectly composed in a navy suit that probably cost more than my monthly rent.
She didn’t look at us directly, but I could feel her presence like a cold draft, a reminder of everything we stood to lose. When I stole a glance in her direction, I caught something unexpected, the way her manicured fingers twisted her ring, a nervous habit I’d noticed during the school art show. For just a moment, beneath the polished exterior, I glimpsed something that looked almost like uncertainty.
Judge Morrison—the same kind man who’d performed our wedding ceremony—entered and called the hearing to order.The irony of having him preside over both our marriage and its potential dissolution wasn’t lost on me.
“We’re here today to address Mrs. Lyla Marshall’s motion challenging the validity of the marriage between Colby Marshall and Gianna Stapleton Marshall,” he began. “Mrs. Marshall alleges that this marriage was contracted solely for the purpose of influencing the custody proceedings regarding the minor child, Luca Marshall, and therefore constitutes marriage fraud.”
The words hung in the air like an accusation, cold and clinical. Marriage fraud. As if the love I felt for Colby and Luca could be reduced to a legal technicality.
Lyla’s attorney stood first, a sharp-dressed woman who laid out their case with surgical precision. The timeline. The recording of our conversation about maintaining the facade. Witness statements about our lack of prior romantic relationship. Financial records showing my maintained apartment.
Each piece of evidence felt like a small cut, and together they painted a picture that was technically accurate but missed the truth of what we’d become.
When it was David’s turn, he stood with quiet confidence.
“Your Honor, while it’s true that Mr. and Mrs. Marshall’s relationship began under unique circumstances, what we have here is not fraud but rather the natural evolution of a deep friendship into genuine love. The evidence will show that what may have started as a practical arrangement has become a real and lasting marriage.”
He called character witnesses: Summer, who testified about watching our relationship grow over the years; Kay, who spoke about our family dynamic and how natural we were together; even Mrs. Henderson, who talked about how I glowed when I spoke about my husband and stepson.
But I knew the real test would come when Colby and I took the stand ourselves.
“Mr. Marshall,” David said when Colby was sworn in, “can you tell the court why you married Gianna Stapleton?”
Colby looked directly at the judge, his voice steady and clear. “Initially, yes, it was because I was facing a custody challenge and I believed being married would help demonstrate stability for my son. But Your Honor, Gianna wasn’t just convenient. She was already family. She’d been part of our lives for three years, caring for Luca, supporting us through difficult times. The marriage made legal what was already true in our hearts.”
“And your feelings for your wife now?”
“I love her completely. She’s not just my wife. She’s my partner, my best friend, the mother my son needed and the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. If I had to do it over again, I’d marry her tomorrow, custody case or no custody case.”
When it was my turn, I walked to the witness stand on unsteady legs, very aware of everyone watching, judging, trying to determine if my love was real enough to deserve legal protection. As I passed Lyla’s table, I caught her eye for just a moment. What I saw there surprised me, not the cold calculation I’d expected, but something raw and wounded. She looked away quickly, but not before I glimpsed what this was really costing her. Watching another woman raise her child, love her ex-husband, build the family she’d walked away from.
“Mrs. Marshall,” David began gently, “why did you agree to marry Colby?”
I looked out at the courtroom, at my mother sitting in the gallery with tears in her eyes, at Colby watching me with complete trust and love. And I told the truth.
“Because I couldn’t bear the thought of Luca losing his father. Because I’d already been part of their family for years,and making it legal felt right. But mostly because I’d been in love with Colby Marshall for three years and was too scared to admit it, even to myself.”
“And now?”
“Now I wake up every morning grateful that I get to be his wife and Luca’s mother. Now I can’t imagine my life without them. We may have started with a legal arrangement, but what we have now is a real marriage built on love, respect, and commitment to each other and to our son.”
“Even if it means facing criminal charges?”
I looked directly at Judge Morrison, the man who’d pronounced us husband and wife just three months ago. “Even then. Because some things are worth fighting for, and my family is one of them.”
When the testimony was complete, Judge Morrison called a brief recess to review the evidence. Colby and I sat in the hallway, holding hands and waiting to learn our fate.
“Whatever he decides,” Colby said quietly, “I want you to know that these past three months have been the happiest of my life.”
“How are we looking?” Colby asked.
“Good. I’ve reviewed Lyla’s evidence, and while it’s compelling, it’s not insurmountable. The key is going to be demonstrating the genuine nature of your current relationship.” David’s gaze included both of us. “The judge will be looking for authenticity, for evidence that this marriage has evolved beyond its original purpose.”
“And if we can’t prove that?”
“Then we deal with whatever comes next. But I believe we can prove it. Your marriage may have started as a legal arrangement, but what I’ve witnessed between you two over the past few weeks is absolutely genuine.”
Inside the courthouse, we found seats in the gallery behind our lawyer’s table. The room was smaller than I’d expected, more intimate, which somehow made it feel more intimidating rather than less. Lyla sat across the aisle with her attorney, perfectly composed in a navy suit that probably cost more than my monthly rent.
She didn’t look at us directly, but I could feel her presence like a cold draft, a reminder of everything we stood to lose. When I stole a glance in her direction, I caught something unexpected, the way her manicured fingers twisted her ring, a nervous habit I’d noticed during the school art show. For just a moment, beneath the polished exterior, I glimpsed something that looked almost like uncertainty.
Judge Morrison—the same kind man who’d performed our wedding ceremony—entered and called the hearing to order.The irony of having him preside over both our marriage and its potential dissolution wasn’t lost on me.
“We’re here today to address Mrs. Lyla Marshall’s motion challenging the validity of the marriage between Colby Marshall and Gianna Stapleton Marshall,” he began. “Mrs. Marshall alleges that this marriage was contracted solely for the purpose of influencing the custody proceedings regarding the minor child, Luca Marshall, and therefore constitutes marriage fraud.”
The words hung in the air like an accusation, cold and clinical. Marriage fraud. As if the love I felt for Colby and Luca could be reduced to a legal technicality.
Lyla’s attorney stood first, a sharp-dressed woman who laid out their case with surgical precision. The timeline. The recording of our conversation about maintaining the facade. Witness statements about our lack of prior romantic relationship. Financial records showing my maintained apartment.
Each piece of evidence felt like a small cut, and together they painted a picture that was technically accurate but missed the truth of what we’d become.
When it was David’s turn, he stood with quiet confidence.
“Your Honor, while it’s true that Mr. and Mrs. Marshall’s relationship began under unique circumstances, what we have here is not fraud but rather the natural evolution of a deep friendship into genuine love. The evidence will show that what may have started as a practical arrangement has become a real and lasting marriage.”
He called character witnesses: Summer, who testified about watching our relationship grow over the years; Kay, who spoke about our family dynamic and how natural we were together; even Mrs. Henderson, who talked about how I glowed when I spoke about my husband and stepson.
But I knew the real test would come when Colby and I took the stand ourselves.
“Mr. Marshall,” David said when Colby was sworn in, “can you tell the court why you married Gianna Stapleton?”
Colby looked directly at the judge, his voice steady and clear. “Initially, yes, it was because I was facing a custody challenge and I believed being married would help demonstrate stability for my son. But Your Honor, Gianna wasn’t just convenient. She was already family. She’d been part of our lives for three years, caring for Luca, supporting us through difficult times. The marriage made legal what was already true in our hearts.”
“And your feelings for your wife now?”
“I love her completely. She’s not just my wife. She’s my partner, my best friend, the mother my son needed and the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. If I had to do it over again, I’d marry her tomorrow, custody case or no custody case.”
When it was my turn, I walked to the witness stand on unsteady legs, very aware of everyone watching, judging, trying to determine if my love was real enough to deserve legal protection. As I passed Lyla’s table, I caught her eye for just a moment. What I saw there surprised me, not the cold calculation I’d expected, but something raw and wounded. She looked away quickly, but not before I glimpsed what this was really costing her. Watching another woman raise her child, love her ex-husband, build the family she’d walked away from.
“Mrs. Marshall,” David began gently, “why did you agree to marry Colby?”
I looked out at the courtroom, at my mother sitting in the gallery with tears in her eyes, at Colby watching me with complete trust and love. And I told the truth.
“Because I couldn’t bear the thought of Luca losing his father. Because I’d already been part of their family for years,and making it legal felt right. But mostly because I’d been in love with Colby Marshall for three years and was too scared to admit it, even to myself.”
“And now?”
“Now I wake up every morning grateful that I get to be his wife and Luca’s mother. Now I can’t imagine my life without them. We may have started with a legal arrangement, but what we have now is a real marriage built on love, respect, and commitment to each other and to our son.”
“Even if it means facing criminal charges?”
I looked directly at Judge Morrison, the man who’d pronounced us husband and wife just three months ago. “Even then. Because some things are worth fighting for, and my family is one of them.”
When the testimony was complete, Judge Morrison called a brief recess to review the evidence. Colby and I sat in the hallway, holding hands and waiting to learn our fate.
“Whatever he decides,” Colby said quietly, “I want you to know that these past three months have been the happiest of my life.”
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