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That night, candles still burned outside the courthouse long after the crowd had thinned. Some whispered prayers for Elena and her children. Others prayed for a young man who had chosen too late to speak the truth. And some prayed simply because they didn’t know what else to do.
In the end, nothing was resolved neatly. No speech wrapped the moment in hope. No verdict softened the loss. But something essential had changed.
And in its place stood a quieter, heavier reality—one where love still endured, even when shattered, and where truth, once spoken, demanded to be carried by everyone who heard it.
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