THIRD PERSON POV
The courtroom was hushed, almost suffocatingly quiet, save for the faint murmur of spectators and the low shuffle of papers. The air smelled faintly of polished wood and formality, yet beneath that veneer, tension vibrated like electricity.
Bukky entered first, accompanied by her parents and Demi. She wore a sleek, understated dress—no glamour, no flair—only the quiet elegance of someone who wanted to assert control. Her eyes were steady, her jaw firm. There was no visible trace of vulnerability, only determination. Demi walked slightly behind her, a silent protector, his presence radiating subtle dominance without theatrics. Her parents flanked her, their faces etched with concern but tempered by the knowledge that Bukky had made up her mind.
The moment she stepped into the room, whispers trickled through the attendees. Friends, colleagues, even the judge's clerks sensed the gravity of the unfolding storm.
Across the room, Akanni entered last. His posture was impeccable, his suit sharply tailored, but his eyes betrayed the weight of sleepless nights and relentless grief. The city lights reflecting off the courtroom windows caught the faint shadow under his eyes, the subtle tremor in his hands. Yet, his expression remained composed, carefully controlled—like a king hiding wounds beneath a crown.
He scanned the room, noting every detail: Bukky's steady stride, the slight protective positioning of Demi, the silent support of her parents. Every movement spoke volumes. He could feel the subtle currents of emotion—defiance, frustration, restraint—running between them.
The judge called the session to order. The sound of the gavel echoed, momentarily drowning out the tension.
"Akanni Bamidele," the judge began, "and Bukky Derinola, you are here today for the matter of your marriage and the filing of divorce proceedings. I expect decorum and clarity from both parties."
Akanni's voice, when he spoke, was calm but carried an undercurrent of restrained emotion. "Your Honor, I am here, fully prepared to respond to the claims."
Bukky's voice, on the other hand, was steady, almost rehearsed. "Your Honor, I request the court recognize that this decision comes after careful thought and personal reflection. I am not coerced, nor am I misled. This is my choice."
The courtroom watched as the subtle psychological battle unfolded—not in dramatic words, but in glances, posture, and presence. Akanni's gaze, fixed on Bukky, was intense, searching for any hint of lingering affection or hesitation. Demi, standing slightly behind Bukky, caught the weight of that look and subtly straightened, sending a silent signal: "I am here. She is mine."
Akanni's assistant, Leke, but here as colleague seated in the back, observed quietly, occasionally making notes, while Mira watched the edges of the courtroom, ready to intervene should Akanni lose composure.
The first exchanges were civil, almost clinical. Lawyers recited facts: the marriage date, the grounds for divorce, the timeline of events. Yet beneath the words, tension crackled. Every reference to the wedding night, to intimacy denied, to emotional withdrawal, landed like subtle strikes in the air, acknowledged by those who could read beyond the surface.
At one point, the lawyer representing Bukky outlined her reasons. "Your Honor, my client has observed a pattern of emotional withdrawal, unexplained absence, and an inability to communicate. Despite repeated attempts at dialogue, there has been no resolution. She seeks the dissolution of the marriage."
Akanni's chest tightened, but he remained composed. "Your Honor, while I acknowledge the emotional distance she perceives, I request the court consider that this is not an act of neglect but a deliberate measure—meant not to hurt, but to preserve the integrity of the relationship until full disclosure could occur. I am willing to reconcile and clarify all misunderstandings."
Bukky's expression did not waver. "Akanni, with all due respect, the damage is done. Your actions, or lack thereof, have forced me to make this decision. I am acting in accordance with my heart and mind. I am prepared to move forward."
Demi, whose presence had remained subtle up until now, finally shifted slightly forward, his dark eyes scanning Akanni with a quiet, almost predatory confidence. He didn't speak, but the message was clear: *Bukky is with me. I am her support. She is safe with me.*
Akanni's heartbeat raced, but he kept his composure, taking a slow, measured breath. He leaned slightly forward, voice low and deliberate, almost a whisper meant only for Bukky. "Bukky… if you just pause for one moment…"
Bukky's jaw tightened, her voice cold but unwavering. "I've paused for weeks, Akanni. I've listened, I've waited, and nothing has changed. You've made your choice by withholding truth, by refusing to engage. I cannot undo the past, nor will I sacrifice my present for promises unfulfilled."
The room felt heavier. Every spectator could sense the undercurrent—the battle between love and pride, regret and defiance. Akanni's heart pounded, but he resisted the urge to lose himself to despair. He had to remain calculated, even now, even while watching the woman he loved slip away.
His lawyer attempted to interject, trying to negotiate or mediate, but Akanni shook his head subtly. This wasn't about strategy anymore. This was about connection, about truth, and the chance—even the slimmest—to bring Bukky back.
He took a deep breath, turning slightly to look at Demi. For a brief moment, their eyes locked. No words were exchanged, but the tension spoke volumes. Akanni silently acknowledged Demi's role—both protector and obstacle—but also recognized a truth: he could not outfight love with force. He had to outthink, outlast, and outwait.
As the judge called for a short recess, Bukky remained seated, her parents flanking her, Demi standing solid behind. Akanni stayed in place, hands loosely clenched at his sides, staring at the floor for a brief second before raising his gaze to the ceiling, silently praying for clarity, resolution, and perhaps—just perhaps—a sliver of hope.
Leke approached him quietly. "Akanni… breathe. We'll plan the next move. There's still time to regain control, but… we need patience."
Akanni nodded slightly, swallowing hard. "Patience… yes. But this… this hurts more than any business loss ever could."
Mira added softly, "Sir… even the strongest men break sometimes. Let it be. Let it fuel you, but don't let it destroy you."
Akanni inhaled deeply, feeling the weight of every emotion: grief, anger, regret, love, and an unyielding need to reclaim what was slipping away.
The courtroom would reconvene shortly. The next chapter of this battle—legal, emotional, and psychological—was about to begin.
i starts revealing hints of his hidden identity and wealth**, beginning to tip the psychological scale back in his favor.