The courtroom was silent, save for the steady hum of proceedings. I focused on the defendant, my quill poised, but then—a gentle tug at my shoe.

I did not react immediately. At first, I assumed it was an accident, perhaps the drape of my robes shifting. But when the tug came again, deliberate and unrelenting, I knew precisely who it was.

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Hidden beneath my desk, she was clearly testing my patience. I glanced down briefly, catching the faint glimmer of mischief in her eyes as she worked to pull my shoe free.

A quiet sigh escaped me, so subtle that none in the room could perceive it. I should have stopped her. It would have taken only a word, a gesture to end her teasing. And yet…

I let it happen.

The shoe slipped free, the coolness of the polished floor brushing against my sock. My toes flexed instinctively. Beneath my composed exterior, I felt a faint amusement, though my expression remained serene.

“The law is not swayed by theatrics or emotion,” I said evenly, my gaze fixed on the defendant, though my thoughts lingered briefly on my partner’s antics.

She was testing me, as she often did, a quiet rebellion against the weight of my duties. And I let her, because I knew it was her way of reminding me not to take myself too seriously.

For now, I endured her game with quiet indulgence. When recess came, I would reclaim my shoe—and perhaps, just perhaps, find a way to return the favor.