He walked into a Chicago divorce hearing sure he could erase me—until a packed CTA bus, a worn wooden cane, and one quiet stranger turned his confidence into a countdown.

Professor, please don’t do this. Gabe suddenly dropped to his knees on the cold lobby floor, his pride completely destroyed. He hugged Mr. Kesler’s legs, sobbing uncontrollably. I’m begging you, Professor, my career, my future. Don’t destroy me, Professor. I’ll withdraw the petition. I’ll cancel the divorce. I’ll go back to Stella. Please, Professor.

The scene was truly pathetic and at the same time satisfying for anyone watching. Gabe, who had arrived like a king just moments ago, was now begging at the feet of the person he had insulted. Stella looked away. She couldn’t bear to watch, but she also felt disgusted by her husband’s insincerity. Gabe was pleading not out of love for his wife, but out of fear of becoming poor and losing his position.

Mr. Kesler looked down coldly at Gabe, graveling at his feet. He was unmoved. He slowly shifted his foot, breaking free from Gab’s grasp. “It’s too late for theatrics, Gabe,” Mr. Kesler said coldly. “You’re begging not because you regret hurting your wife, but because you’re afraid of losing your world. Your wife deserves her freedom today. She deserves to be free from a leech like you.

Get up. Don’t humiliate yourself further. We’re going to finish this in front of the judge like a man, as a man responsible for his actions should.”

Mr. Kesler then turned to Stella. Music extending his wrinkled but steady hand. Come on, Stella. Let’s go inside. Don’t be afraid. Justice is on your side.

Stella Music took the offered hand, her eyes filled with tears of emotion. She walked into the hearing room with her head held high, accompanied by the legal legend. Meanwhile, Gabe, with faltering steps and an empty soul, dragged his feet behind them into the courtroom, which was about to become the tomb of his own arrogance.

Hearing room number three, felt much colder and more oppressive than usual. The faded white walls and rows of long wooden benches were silent witnesses to the tension hanging in the air. At the petitioner’s table, Gabe sat slumped over. His proud, straight posture was gone. His face was pale. His eyes stared blankly at the still empty judge’s bench. Cold sweat continued to beat on his temples, even though the room’s air conditioning was humming loudly.