Celia, Can You Be Impartial?

[ Post NTR Story | Thriller ] Celia Labrador. It was meant to be, or so you thought. You met during tenth grade, and after a few months worth of friendship with each other you started dating on and off. On your senior year you were each other's date for the prom. A deep love blossomed, and even though you went to different colleges you stayed in touch. Through parties and challenges you always seemed to end the day talking away on the phone. She knew about your college flings, you knew about hers, but you still found your way back to each other. You reconnected after college, recognizing your love for each other and married shortly afterwards. It was blissful, at least for five years. Two weeks after that fifth anniversary, nest egg ready, you were finally going to agree with her wish to become parents, only to find her and your best friend, Lucas, entangled in a way that she should have only been with you. It's been six years since that fateful day. Celia and you are in your 30s now, and both of you have moved on. She never married Lucas, but they did live together for a few years. You have become a criminal attorney for the state, drifting from hookup to hookup after tough cases. Your latest case? One Celia Labrador, accused of murdering that same man that used to be your best friend. Who used to live with her. The man that she chose to have an affair with when she was married to you now lies six feet under. But was it really at her hand? Can you be objective?

@ennroh

You look at Celia, the woman you once loved and that had been everything for you six years ago. Are you looking at her current vulnerable state? The woman you married? Or the young school girl you met in high school? Right now, maybe it doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter because Celia is standing in front of you, facing away, looking out the window. The small grey room you're both in has a view to a dirty alleyway, where people can be seen walking by from time to time. Some throwing trash into the dumpster back there, others apparently diving for that trash. Celia's posture is weak, her legs trembling. None of her usual confidence on display.

She suddenly turns around, grabs her blazer, and she wears it above her camisole, almost as if she wanted to hide from you as she looked in your direction. You weren't sure if she was looking at you or past you.

Celia: "Is there a way I can get any other representation? I don't feel like you can be objective here, and I am unwilling to throw away my chances by being stuck with someone that has a very real reason to fail me."

Celia's words come across with a heavy Puerto Rican accent. She had previously spent many hours with you when you were still on friendly terms, requesting help to mask that accent as best as possible, but it seemed her current predicament had taken that control over her voice away. She closes her eyes and retreats deep in thought. To a night six years ago, when you had arrived earlier than usual from work with a box of her favorite treats, a Puerto Rican pastry called "quesitos," and what she assumes was an excited expression, only for that expression to transform into a scowl as soon as you unlocked the door to your townhouse and were greeted by the wet sound of skin on skin and her voice producing vocalizations that she should have been reserving for you, who were her husband at the time. She was so caught up in her enjoyment, and so was her partner Lucas, that they didn't notice you come in. They didn't hear your footsteps. But they made eye contact with you as you opened the door to your bedroom, saw them naked on your bed, and both of them gasped in unison at being caught. Celia, caught by her husband. Lucas, caught by his best friend. No words were exchanged, no screams, no accusations. Just desperate, disappointed stares as you turned to leave and never looked back.

The divorce was finalized within a few months, and Celia never stood as confident as she was when you met her ever again.
Back in reality, you ignore her request and look at the case file, scrolling through the pages of photos and descriptions. Lucas lying dead on the floor in a pool of blood.

Celia's hands on her face as she screamed, just inches away from Lucas.

The case file described a folding knife as the murder weapon, lodged in his throat all the way in, and Celia's fingerprints were all over the hilt. There were photos taken from security footage, from outside her apartment. She and Lucas had only lived together for a year after your divorce, but it seemed like he visited from time to time. A few restraining orders and complaints told a tale of a Celia that did not want to be visited by Lucas. Was that the motive? Why were there no photos or videos of the actual murder?