On the way to the divorce hearing, I helped an elderly man on the bus. He wanted to come with me to the courthouse. When we arrived, the moment my husband saw him, his face turned pale with fear.

It turned out that elderly man was—

“What if the path to a divorce hearing turned into the moment that would change your destiny forever?”

Today, I have a very special, heart-touching story about the power of sincere kindness. The story of a wife looked down upon by her husband, who found a champion in the most unexpected person—all thanks to a small act of kindness on a city bus.

That morning, the sunbeams filtering through the kitchen blinds did nothing to warm Stella’s heart.

Her gaze was empty, fixed on a manila envelope lying silently on the dining table. The envelope bore the official seal of the Cook County Domestic Relations Division.

Stella’s hands trembled violently as she slowly reached for it. Her heart pounded as if it already knew the bad news hidden inside.

It had been three weeks since Gabe had come home—her husband, the man who once promised to be faithful in good times and bad when they were both starting from nothing—had now completely changed.

Ever since his career as a young attorney began to take off, and his name started to become known around Chicago, Gabe’s attitude had turned cold. He rarely answered her calls. He frequently made excuses about working late, and the final straw was him leaving home without so much as a goodbye.

With bated breath, Stella tore the seal on the envelope. Her eyes scanned, line by line, the print on the white paper.

A summons for a divorce hearing.

The date was set for tomorrow morning.

Stella’s chest tightened as if the air supply in the room had suddenly been cut off. Her tears fell, wetting the paper that was proof of her marriage’s failure.

The tears on her cheeks hadn’t even dried when her phone buzzed.

An incoming message.

Gabe’s name appeared on the screen.

That name used to make Stella smile whenever she heard from him, but now it only brought a stabbing pain to the pit of her stomach.

Stella opened the message with fingers that were still trembling.

You got the letter right. Don’t forget to show up tomorrow. I expect you to cooperate.

Music, Stella. Don’t make a scene and don’t complicate things.

The message was so cold—no greeting, no courtesy—as if Stella were a stranger he had just met.

Stella took a deep breath, music, trying to gather the last remnants of her courage to reply.

Gabe, why does it have to be like this? Can’t we talk things over first? I have a right to know what I did wrong for you to divorce me so suddenly.

It wasn’t long before Gabe’s response came.

This time the message was longer, but every word was like a razor blade slicing through Stella’s heart.

Music, talk. We have nothing in common to talk about anymore.

Stella, get a clue. Look at me now. And look at you.

I’m an attorney at a prestigious firm in the Loop. I meet with high-profile clients, officials, and business leaders every day.

And you? You’re just an ordinary housewife who only knows about the kitchen and the bedroom. You’re not on my level anymore.

Taking you to work events would just embarrass me. You can’t adapt to my world now.

Stella sank weakly into a dining chair.

Her heart shattered as she read the honest but cruel confession from her husband.

She remembered the hard times before, when Gabe was still in law school and they had to share a single meal between them because Gabe’s money had been spent on textbooks.

It was Stella who worked extra hours sewing clothes for neighbors late into the night to help pay for Gabe’s tuition. It was Stella who always encouraged Gabe when he failed his exams time and again and almost gave up.

You forgot who was with you from the very beginning, Stella wrote as she sobbed.

The tears now flowed freely—impossible to hold back.

Who sewed your first suit for your job interview? It was me, your wife.

Don’t talk about the past, music, Gabe replied quickly, as if Stella’s words were an annoying attack.

That was a wife’s obligation to serve her husband.

And I’ve already paid you back by giving you food and a decent place to live all this time. Have an eye, so we’re even.

Listen carefully, Stella. At the hearing tomorrow, I want you to agree to all the divorce demands without objection.

As for the marital assets—forget it. The house, the car, music, the savings—it’s all in my name.

You have no real financial contribution to their purchase, so don’t even try to claim a division of assets.

Stella’s jaw dropped as she read that message.

How clever Gabe was.

The modest house they lived in—the down payment had come from Stella’s savings from sewing day and night before Gabe became successful.

But Gabe, music, this house—

Stella didn’t get to finish typing when her phone rang.

Suddenly, Gabe was calling.

Stella answered with trembling hands.

Music—afraid, but needing an explanation.

“Hello.”

Stella’s voice was hoarse and weak.

“Listen, Stella.”

Gabe’s voice was loud, firm, and full of intimidation from the other end.

“Don’t even try to fight this. I’m a lawyer. I know the loopholes. If you dare to claim any assets or complicate this divorce, I’ll make sure you don’t get a single penny.”

“I’ll expose all your faults in front of the judge. I’ll make you a disgrace for life until no one even wants to be your friend.”

“What faults, Gabe? I’ve served you all this time. I never did anything wrong,” Stella sobbed, her heart aching at being accused of things she hadn’t done.

“I can find your faults. That’s my specialty,” Gabe shouted arrogantly. “I can twist the facts until you look guilty.”

“So if you want a quiet life after the divorce, do as I say. Show up tomorrow, nod your head in front of the judge, sign, music, and get out of my life.”

“Just take your clothes. Everything else is mine.”

The call was disconnected unilaterally by Gabe.

Stella weakly placed her phone on the table.

Music.

The dining room felt so silent and oppressive.

She looked around the modest house she had cared for with all her love for the past five years—the walls she had painted herself, the curtains she had sewn herself.

Everything bore the mark of her hands.

And now Gabe wanted to snatch it all away just because he felt, music, Stella was no longer worthy of standing with him at the peak of success.

A success achieved thanks to Stella’s prayers and sweat as well.

That pain slowly transformed into an oppressive weight crushing her chest.

Stella felt so small and helpless.

Her opponent was her own husband—a lawyer who understood the law and was skilled with words.

What could a simple woman like her do?

She had no lawyer she could afford.

She didn’t know any influential people.

Yet in the midst of that despair, Stella looked at her reflection in the mirror of the sideboard. Her face was swollen, her eyes red and puffy.

“Should I just give up like this?” she asked herself silently.

Suddenly, she remembered her late mother’s words.

“Be a strong woman and keep your dignity.”

“No,” Stella whispered softly as she wiped her tears away harshly. “I may be poor now. I may not have an advanced degree like Gabe, music, but I have dignity.”

“I won’t let him trample all over me anymore. Let him have the assets, but I won’t let him humiliate my dignity.”

That night, Stella couldn’t sleep.

She spent the night packing some of her clothes into an old duffel bag. She wouldn’t take any possessions if that’s what Gabe wanted, but she would go to the courthouse tomorrow with her head held high.

She would face Gabe.

She would show him that while he could divorce her, he couldn’t destroy her spirit.

Tomorrow was the decisive day.

Stella zipped up her old bag.

She had no money to take a taxi to the courthouse because Gabe had blocked her access to their joint savings account.

The only car had already been taken by Gabe a week ago.

“I’ll take the CTA bus,” she murmured softly. “It’s okay.”

She was used to walking and taking public transit, music, before Gabe became successful.

Outside, the night wind blew hard, as if signaling the life storm she would face the next day.

Stella closed her eyes, praying in her heart for God to give her the strength to get through that difficult day.

Unbeknownst to her, God had already prepared a different scenario—a scenario that neither Stella nor Gabe could have ever imagined.

A simple encounter the next morning that would change everything.

The morning sun wasn’t yet high in the sky, but its rays already felt scorching on Stella’s skin.

Today was the day she dreaded most, but one she had to face—like it or not.

Stella stood in front of the old mirror in her bedroom, adjusting a simple cream-colored scarf that had faded slightly from being washed so, music, many times.

It was the scarf Gabe had given her five years ago when he received his first paycheck as a paralegal.

Back then, Gabe had given it to her with a look full of love.

But now, the item was just a silent witness to the drastic turn in Stella’s fate.

She chose a modest long dress with a small floral pattern.

She wore no jewelry.

Her wedding ring had been taken off and placed in the dresser drawer the night before.

It felt too heavy to wear that symbol of a sacred union when that bond was about to be forcibly severed by law that day.

She tried to cover her swollen face with a little powder, though the dark circles from crying all night couldn’t be completely hidden.

Stella left the tract house that had been her castle until now.

She closed the door carefully.

The key to this house might soon have to be handed over to Gabe, according to her husband’s threat yesterday.

Just take your clothes. Everything else is mine.

Those words echoed again, making Stella’s stomach ache.

As her feet stepped past the gate, Stella saw a few neighbors gathered by their mailboxes not far from her house.

Stella tried to lower her head, hoping to pass without drawing attention, but that hope was in vain.

“Hey, there’s Stella,” one of the women whispered, just loud enough to be heard. “All dressed up so early. Where could she be going?”

“They say she’s going to her divorce hearing,” another neighbor said with an obvious gossipy tone. “Poor thing, and her husband is such a successful lawyer. His cars are always new, and his wife has to walk to the courthouse.”

“I wonder if Stella did something wrong to get divorced like this.”

“Could be. Rich people usually look for someone on their level. Maybe Stella didn’t take care of herself. That’s why her husband found someone prettier.”

Those sharp words pierced Stella’s ears.

She felt like screaming to defend herself—to say that she had sacrificed her youth, her smooth skin, and her energy to support Gabe’s career until he succeeded.

That she didn’t take care of herself not out of laziness, but because she saved the household money to buy Gabe expensive shoes so he wouldn’t be embarrassed when meeting clients.

But Stella chose to remain silent.

Her tongue was paralyzed.

She just quickened her pace, leaving the group of neighbors who were watching her with contempt.

The walk to the bus stop was quite long—about half a mile from her neighborhood.

Stella walked along the dusty sidewalk.

Private cars zipped past her.

The luxury cars that passed reminded her of the car Gabe used to drive.

Before, Stella would sit in the passenger seat, listening to Gabe talk about the cases he’d won.

Now she was just a pedestrian, marginalized by the sun’s heat and the road’s dust.

The heat and dust started to make cold sweat drip down her temples.

However, the fear in Stella’s chest was far more unsettling than the weather.

The image of the cold, formal courtroom haunted her.

She imagined Gabe sitting there in his expensive suit, accompanied by his well-spoken lawyer colleagues, ready to tear Stella’s dignity to shreds with legal arguments she didn’t understand.

What if I say the wrong thing? Stella thought anxiously.

What if the judge believes all of Gabe’s lies?

What if they really throw me out without a penny?

Where will I live then?

That fear was like a monster slowly devouring her courage.

Stella clutched the strap of her bag tightly.

She felt so small—like an ant about to face an elephant.

Gabe had everything: money, status, legal knowledge, and connections.

While Stella only had her honesty—and the remnants of faith that God doesn’t sleep.

Upon reaching the bus stop, Stella sat on the metal bench that was already starting to rust.

She waited for the city bus headed for the Cook County Courthouse.

Around her, people were busy with their own lives—some glued to their phones, some lost in thought, some sleeping off the exhaustion of a night shift.

In the midst of that crowd, Stella felt utterly alone.

There was no hand to hold for strength.

There was no shoulder to lean on.

A gleaming black sedan drove slowly past the bus stop.

Its windows were tinted, but Stella recognized the license plate.

It was Gabe’s car.

Stella’s heart seemed to stop.

Music.

The car glided smoothly, weaving through traffic with arrogance, while Stella still had to wait for the old, late bus.

The difference in their fates was starkly displayed before her eyes.

Gabe was moving forward in comfort.

Music.

While Stella had to struggle just to get to the place where her destiny would be decided.

Dear God, Stella prayed in her heart, her teary eyes staring at the asphalt. If this separation is the best path, then strengthen my heart. Don’t let me break down in the face of Gabe’s arrogance. Give me just one sign of your help today so I don’t feel so alone.

Not long after, the city bus she was waiting for finally appeared around the corner.

Black smoke billowed from its exhaust pipe.

The bus was completely packed.

The driver shouted for passengers.

Stella took a deep breath, strengthening her legs to stand up. She prepared to squeeze in, bracing herself for an uncomfortable journey—as uncomfortable as the life journey she was currently on.

Stella boarded the bus, unaware that her prayer from moments ago was about to be answered in the most unexpected way inside that crowded public vehicle.

The atmosphere inside the city bus was suffocating.

The air was a mix of passenger sweat, stale cigarette smoke clinging to clothes, and road dust coming in through the open windows.

Stella stood squeezed between a man carrying a large sack and a group of loud students.

Her legs were beginning to ache from having to keep her balance every time the bus accelerated or braked sharply. The driver seemed to be chasing a daily quota, recklessly maneuvering the old vehicle without any regard for the passengers’ comfort.

Stella tried to close her eyes for a moment, attempting to calm the turmoil in her chest, but the blaring horns forced her to stay awake.

In front of her, the row of priority seats was full.

Ironically, those seats were occupied by young people engrossed in their phones—pretending to sleep or wearing headphones as if closing their eyes and hearts to the world around them.

None of them cared that there was a pregnant woman standing with difficulty in the back, or an elderly man clinging tightly to a metal pole.

The bus slowed down again as it approached the stop near the downtown market.

The stuck hydraulic door creaked open with a harsh squeal.

“Come on, hurry up if you’re getting on,” the driver yelled, hanging out the side as he slapped the body of the bus.

From the curb, an old man was trying to board with great difficulty.

His hair was completely white, his body thin, and he wore a plaid shirt whose color had faded, and dress pants that were too loose for him.

His wrinkled hands trembled as he tried to reach the high handrail of the bus door.

His steps were heavy and slow.

“Hey, old man, pick it up a little,” the driver scolded him impatiently. “We’re on a schedule.”

He didn’t even get out to help the old man get on.

The other passengers just glanced at him for a moment with annoyed looks before returning to their own business.

There was no empathy for him.

The slow old man was just an obstacle on their way to work.

The old man finally managed to get his foot onto the bus floor, breathing heavily.

However, he had barely found something to hold on to when the impatient driver slammed on the accelerator.

The bus shot forward abruptly.

The old man’s frail body lurched backward.

He lost his balance.

“Watch out!” a woman near the door shouted, but even she didn’t move to help.

Stella, who saw what was happening from the middle of the aisle, reacted immediately—forgetting her own sorrow, forgetting her shame.

Her humanitarian instinct took over.

With agility, music, Stella pushed her way through the other passengers and caught the old man’s arm just before he fell backward toward the still-open door.

“Be careful, sir,” Stella exclaimed as she supported the old man’s weight with all her strength.

Stella’s hands—gentle but firm—held the old man’s arm, saving him from a fatal accident.

The old man seemed to be in shock, his face pale, his breathing ragged.

He looked at Stella with eyes that still reflected the lingering panic.

“Thank you… thank you, my dear,” he said in a hoarse, trembling voice.

Stella gave a small, sincere, reassuring smile.

“You’re welcome, sir. Hold on to me.”

Then Stella looked around for an empty seat.

Nothing.

All the seats were taken.

Her eyes fell on a young man sitting in the priority seat right in front of them, engrossed in a game on his phone—oblivious to the commotion just moments before.

“Excuse me, young man,” Stella called out in a soft but firm voice. “Could you please give your seat to this gentleman? Music! He can’t stand for long.”

The young man looked up, glaring at Stella and the old man with an annoyed expression. He huffed in frustration as if Stella had just interrupted a crucial moment in his life.

Reluctantly, with a sour face, the young man stood up without a word.

He then moved to the back of the bus, grumbling under his breath.

“Please sit here, sir,” Stella said as she gently guided the old man to the seat.

She made sure he was comfortable before letting go.

The old man let out a sigh of relief as his back touched the seat. He massaged his trembling knees.

After feeling a bit calmer, he looked up at Stella, who was now standing beside him, holding on to the back of the seat.

“Thank you so much, my dear. If it weren’t for you, I might have rolled right out of the bus,” the old man said again.

This time, Stella could see his face more clearly.

Although wrinkles covered his face, there was a sharp yet serene look in his eyes.

A strange dignity emanated from his simple figure—something that didn’t quite match the worn-out clothes he was wearing.

“It was nothing, sir. It’s our duty as human beings to help one another,” Stella replied politely.

She adjusted her handbag, trying to hide her left hand, which no longer wore a wedding ring.

“It’s rare to find young people who care like you these days,” the old man murmured softly, as if talking to himself.

His eyes then scanned Stella’s appearance from head to toe.

He saw her simple but neat clothes, her pretty face that held a deep cloud of sorrow, and her swollen eyes.

The old man—whose name was Arthur Kesler—was not just some random person who happened to be taking the bus.

However, today he had deliberately left his luxury car and personal driver at home.

He wanted to reminisce about the past—the times when he fought for justice from the ground up—feeling the pulse of the lives of the humble people he often defended in his past judgments.

But he didn’t expect to nearly have an accident.

And he certainly didn’t expect to be helped by a young woman who looked like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“My dear, where are you headed? All dressed up on a bus?” Mr. Kesler asked, trying to start a conversation.

He wanted to know more about this kind-hearted woman.

Stella hesitated for a moment.

She wasn’t used to confiding in strangers, especially when her destination was a place she wasn’t proud of.

The family court shame washed over her.

How should she answer?

To say she was getting a divorce—that her successful husband was throwing her away?

“I have some business to attend to, sir,” music, Stella replied diplomatically, trying to smile, though her lips felt stiff.

Mr. Kesler nodded slowly, as if understanding that there was something she didn’t want to reveal.

However, Mr. Kesler’s old eyes—which had for decades observed the faces of people in the defendant’s box—could read body language very well.

He saw unease, fear, and a deep sadness in Stella’s eyes.

“Your face is clouded, my dear, like the sky outside,” Mr. Kesler said suddenly, his voice as gentle as a father speaking to his daughter. “A good person like you doesn’t deserve to look so sad.”

That simple sentence, for some reason, struck a chord in Stella’s heart.

The defenses she had built up since morning slowly crumbled in the middle of the noisy bus and indifferent crowd.

The sincere attention from this unknown old man made her eyes well up again.

Stella turned her face toward the window, holding back her tears so they wouldn’t fall in front of everyone.

This unexpected encounter was beginning to open a small crack in her frozen heart.

The city bus lurched forward, navigating through the morning traffic amidst the pollution and the roar of the diesel engine.

The conversation between Stella and Mr. Kesler flowed slowly, creating their own pocket of tranquility amidst the hustle and bustle of the other passengers.

Stella took a deep breath, music, trying to push away the tightness that was once again squeezing her chest because of the old man’s question.

She looked at Mr. Kesler’s face again.

It reminded her of her late father—serene, full of the lines of experience, and radiating a sincerity that was hard to find in this big city.

She didn’t know what prompted her, but Stella’s walls of defense gradually came down.

Maybe it was because she was tired of keeping everything to herself.

Or maybe because she felt she would never meet this old man again after today.

So there was no harm in sharing a small part of her burden.

“I’m going to the Cook County Courthouse, sir,” music, Stella finally answered in a quiet voice—almost a whisper so the other passengers wouldn’t hear.

Her eyes again looked down sadly at the tips of her worn shoes.

Mr. Kesler was silent for a moment.

He didn’t seem surprised, but his expression grew more serious and full of empathy.

He shifted slightly in his seat so he could hear Stella’s voice better over the noise of the bus.

“Not to file a marriage license for someone else, I hope!” Mr. Kesler asked carefully, though he could already guess the answer from the aura of sadness surrounding the young woman.

Stella shook her head slowly.

A bitter smile formed on her lips.

“No, sir. To end my own marriage. Today is my first hearing.”

A momentary silence fell between them.

Only the voice of a street vendor shouting about selling tissues in water broke the awkward silence.

“My husband doesn’t want me anymore, sir,” Stella continued.

This time, her tears couldn’t be held back.

A single drop fell, landing on the back of her hand, which she was clenching tightly.

“He’s successful now—an important man. Music. He says I’m not worthy of being with him anymore. That I’m just an embarrassment to his career.”

Upon hearing that confession, Mr. Kesler’s jaw tightened slightly.

Music.

His wrinkled hand gripped the head of his wooden cane more firmly.

As someone who had been immersed in the legal world for decades, music, he had seen many cases like this—the cliché story of someone forgetting their roots, of loyalty betrayed by the glitter of money and status.

However, hearing it directly from a woman as kind and sweet as Stella still made his heart ache with anger.

“He’s a fool,” Mr. Kesler said suddenly.

His voice was firm, though soft.

Stella turned, surprised.

She didn’t expect such a direct comment from this polite-looking old man.

“What do you mean, sir?”

Mr. Kesler looked directly into Stella’s eyes.

His gaze was sharp yet reassuring, as if transmitting a magical strength that made Stella feel a little stronger.

“My dear, in this world there are many people with flawed vision,” music, Mr. Kesler said in a philosophical tone. “They are dazzled by glittering shards of glass in the sunlight, thinking they are beautiful gems.”

“To chase after those pieces of glass, they are willing to throw away the genuine diamond they had held tightly for years.”

“Your husband is one of them. He’s so blinded by the glass that he’s forgotten he just threw away the most precious diamond of his life.”

Stella was stunned.

The old man’s words were so beautiful and hit her right in the heart.

All this time, Gabe had always made her feel worthless—like trash that deserved to be thrown away.

But this stranger, whom she had just met ten minutes ago, called her a diamond.

“But I’m not a diamond, sir,” Stella objected quietly.

Her low self-esteem still dominated her thoughts.

“I’m just an ordinary woman. I don’t have a high degree. I’m not rich. I’m not beautiful like my husband’s colleagues.”

“A pretty face and a degree fade with time, my dear,” Mr. Kesler interrupted quickly.

“But a sincere heart—that dares to help an old man on a bus when she herself is in trouble—that is a rare luxury.”

“That is the real diamond.”

“And believe me—one day your husband will weep bitterly when he realizes what he let go of today.”

Mr. Kesler’s words were like cool water on the barren wasteland of Stella’s heart.

For the first time since receiving that divorce summons, Stella felt a little valued.

Music.

She felt seen as a human being, not as an object that had expired.

“Thank you, sir. You are very kind,” Stella said sincerely as she wiped the last of the tears from her cheeks.

“I pray that your children will always cherish you because you are a very wise person.”

Mr. Kesler smiled mysteriously at that blessing.

He neither confirmed nor denied it—just gently patted Stella’s hand, which was resting on the seatback.

“Save your tears, my dear. Don’t cry for someone who doesn’t know your worth.”

“Lift your head. You did nothing wrong.”

“Let the world see that you are strong.”

Not long after, the bus driver shouted loudly:

“Courthouse, Domestic Relations Division! Anyone getting off? Get ready!”

Stella was startled.

The short journey had passed so quickly.

Her heart began to pound again as she realized she had arrived at the battlefield.

“I have to get off here, sir,” Stella said politely as she said her goodbyes.

She quickly stood up and, out of reflex, extended her hand again to Mr. Kesler.

“Where are you getting off? Let me help you move to the side so you’ll be more comfortable if more passengers get on.”

Mr. Kesler also stood up slowly, holding Stella’s hand for support.

“I’m getting off here too, my dear.”

Stella frowned, puzzled.

“You have business at the court too?”

“Yes. I have a small matter to attend to. I thought I’d walk with you,” Mr. Kesler replied calmly as he shuffled toward the exit door.

“Oh, please don’t trouble yourself, sir. You must be tired,” Stella said, feeling awkward.

“It’s no trouble. On the contrary, I want to make sure you walk in there with your head held high.”

“Consider it my way of paying you back for helping me earlier,” Mr. Kesler said stubbornly, but with a hint of humor.

The bus stopped in front of the imposing courthouse building, which felt cold to Stella.

Stella got off first, then patiently helped Mr. Kesler down the rather high steps of the bus.

They were now standing on the sidewalk, looking at the entrance of the building where the fate of Stella’s marriage would be decided.

The sun was getting hotter, but Mr. Kesler’s presence beside her gave Stella a strange sense of calm.

She no longer felt like she was facing the world alone—even though she was only accompanied by an old man she had just met.

It felt much better than arriving alone like a loser.

Stella took a deep breath, filling her lungs with new courage.

Together with Mr. Kesler, she walked through the courthouse doors, ready to face Gabe and all his arrogance.

Unbeknownst to Stella, the old man’s small steps beside her were about to cause a huge stir inside that building.

Very soon, the Cook County Courthouse building stood solid with large pillars rising as if to affirm that this was where all sacred vows would be tested and decided by the judge’s gavel.

Stella entered the building’s courtyard with her heart pounding uncontrollably.

The air around felt heavy—perhaps from the aura of sadness and anger from the dozens of couples who came here with the intention of separating.

Beside her, Mr. Kesler walked slowly but steadily.

His wooden cane tapped against the ceramic floor of the lobby with a regular rhythm.

Their contrasting appearance drew the attention of a few people.

Stella—a young woman with a puffy face and simple clothes—walked alongside an old man whose clothes looked worn and out of place in such an elegant government building.

Upon reaching the reception desk, Stella stopped.

She felt uncomfortable dragging this man she had just met into the embarrassing drama of her marriage.

Sir, music—thank you so much for accompanying me this far, Stella said softly, turning to face Mr. Kesler. If you have other business to attend to, please go ahead. I don’t want to trouble you by having you wait for my hearing, which might take a long time.

Besides, the atmosphere here isn’t very pleasant for an older person.

Mr. Kesler smiled slightly.

The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes crinkled kindly.

He didn’t move an inch from his spot.

“Stella, an old man like me has plenty of free time. It’s lonely at home with no one to talk to. Besides, it’s hot outside. It’s cool and air conditioned in here.”

“Let me just sit in the waiting area for a while. It’ll give my legs a rest.”

Stella looked at the old man doubtfully.

“But sir… when my husband arrives, I’m afraid he might speak rudely. I don’t want you to be offended or yelled at as well. My husband can be a bit short-tempered when he doesn’t get his way.”

Mr. Kesler’s face became a little more serious, though his smile hadn’t completely disappeared.

He gently patted the back of Stella’s hand.

“That’s precisely why I want to be here. I want to see for myself what kind of man would dare to waste a woman as polite and good as you.”

“Don’t worry about me. This old man has seen a lot in his life. The shouting of a young man isn’t going to give me a heart attack.”

Hearing Mr. Kesler address her so respectfully touched Stella’s heart.

There was a sincere respect in the way he spoke to her—something that had long vanished from Gabe’s lips.

Stella finally nodded in resignation, but inside she felt relieved.

Honestly, she was afraid to face Gabe alone.

Mr. Kesler’s presence—even as just a stranger sitting silently—gave her a bit of security.

It felt like being accompanied by a father ready to defend his daughter.

“All right then, sir. Let’s sit in the waiting area over there,” Stella invited.

They walked toward the row of waiting chairs lined up in the corridor leading to the main hearing room.

Some people looked at them with questioning expressions.

A security guard even eyed Mr. Kesler suspiciously because his appearance was considered unkempt.

However, Mr. Kesler walked with his chin up, indifferent to the dismissive looks from others.

He had a strange self-confidence—as if this building were his own home.

As they sat down, Stella kept fidgeting with the hem of her dress.

Her eyes darted around anxiously, searching for Gabe.

The fear was still there.

The image of Gabe arriving in his designer suit with his overpowering cologne and hurtful words made Stella’s stomach churn.

“Stay calm, my dear,” Mr. Kesler whispered from his seat beside her. He seemed to be able to sense the anxious turmoil in Stella’s chest.

“Take a deep breath. Don’t let him see you tremble. If you look weak, it will only make him feel more victorious.”

Stella followed his advice.

She took a deep breath, trying to control her racing heart.

“Did you ever go through something like this before?” Stella asked quietly, trying to distract herself with conversation.

Mr. Kesler gazed into the distance, contemplating the painting of the scales of justice on the opposite wall.

“I’ve seen thousands of people cry in buildings like this, my dear. I’ve seen some cry with regret, some with pain, and some with joy at being freed from suffering.”

“Divorce is certainly painful, but sometimes it’s the gateway to true happiness. God breaks your heart today, perhaps to save your soul in the future.”

Those wise words once again penetrated deep into Stella’s soul.

She felt that the old man beside her was no ordinary person.

His way of speaking was too refined for just a regular bus passenger.

But Stella didn’t dare ask more about who Mr. Kesler really was.

For her, it was enough that Mr. Kesler was her guardian angel today.

Case number 15. The petitioner and respondent. Please prepare.

The voice from the loudspeaker echoed down the corridor.

Stella flinched.

That wasn’t her case number, but the voice reminded her that her hearing time was drawing closer.

She glanced at the wall clock.

It was almost 9:00 a.m.

Gabe should have arrived by now.

Suddenly, music, from the direction of the main entrance came the sound of dress shoes clicking sharply on the floor—steps full of confidence and arrogance.

Stella knew that sound all too well.

Her body instantly tensed.

“He’s here,” Stella whispered softly.

Her face turned pale.

Mr. Kesler also turned to where Stella was looking.

There, striding in, was a handsome but arrogant young man dressed in a well-pressed designer suit, a crisp white shirt, music, and a silk tie.

Behind him walked another man carrying a thick briefcase of documents—apparently, his lawyer.

Gabe arrived with the air of a king.

Music.

He didn’t look left or right.

His gaze was fixed straight ahead, as if everyone in the room should move aside for him.

The aura of arrogance was thick, emanating from him.

Mr. Kesler narrowed his eyes, staring intently at Gabe’s approaching figure.

His old hand gripped the head of his wooden cane tighter—not out of fear, but to contain his anger at the attitude of this young man who thought he was so powerful.

So that’s the guy, Mr. Kesler thought. Let’s see how high he can fly before his wings get clipped.

Stella lowered her head, trying to hide her face, but it was too late.

Gabe had already spotted her.

A mocking smile appeared on Gabe’s lips as he saw his wife sitting in the corner of the waiting area.

Gabe changed direction, walking toward Stella with a disdainful look—music—ready to launch his first verbal assault to crush Stella’s morale before the hearing even began.

Gabe didn’t notice at all the presence of the scruffy-looking old man sitting silently like a statue beside Stella, observing his every move like an eagle eyeing its prey.

The sun was getting higher, but the temperature in the courthouse lobby felt icy to Stella.

Gabe stood right in front of her, his posture exuding an arrogance that seemed to fill the room.

The scent of Gabe’s expensive cologne, which irritated the nose, now made Stella’s stomach turn—reminding her of the stranger standing before her, no longer the husband she once knew.

Standing beside Gabe was another equally dapper man.

He clutched a leather briefcase with a smug look, occasionally adjusting his expensive glasses while glancing at Stella with contempt.

“Well, well,” Gabe began, his tone sarcastic and sharp.

His voice was deliberately loud, causing people nearby to turn and look.

“You finally showed up. Music: I thought you’d be crying in the bathroom all day, too scared to face me.”

Stella took a deep breath, trying to straighten her back, which felt frail.

She remembered Mr. Kesler’s words from earlier.

Don’t look music weak.

“I came because it’s a legal obligation, Gabe. I’m respecting the court summons,” Stella replied softly but clearly.

Gabe snorted.

A short, painful laugh escaped his lips.

“Respecting the law. Oh, listen to you.”

“Get a grip, Stella. Look at your wrinkled, disheveled appearance. How did you even get here? Did you take a CTA bus? Or maybe you walked to get some pity points.”

“You smell like road dust.”

Stella’s face flushed.

The shame, music, spread to her ears.

Gabe knew her weak spots all too well.

Music.

“I took the bus, Gabe,” Stella answered honestly.

“The bus,” Gabe repeated the word with disgust, as if Stella had just confessed to eating garbage.

He turned to the man beside him.

“Did you hear that, Leo? The wife of a senior associate at a prestigious law firm rides the city bus.”

“How embarrassing. Good thing that status is about to end. I can’t imagine if my VIP clients knew my wife squeezed in with the lower class, sweating all over them.”

The man named Leo nodded in agreement, a smirk playing on his lips.

“She’s in a different league, Gabe. Your decision is the right one. A woman like this would only be a stain on our firm’s top-tier image.”

Stella’s blood boiled with rage.

They were talking about her as if she were an inanimate object without ears or feelings.

Being humiliated in public by her own husband and a stranger was truly painful.

“Let me introduce you, Stella,” Gabe said, gesturing to his colleague with his thumb, showing no respect for Stella. “He’s my colleague—a top law school graduate—and he’ll be the attorney making sure you walk out of this hearing with nothing but the old clothes on your back.”

“So my advice is, instead of being embarrassed in there by Leo’s legal arguments that your small-town brain won’t understand, you should just give up now.”

Gabe snapped his fingers sharply.

Leo pulled a thick blue folder from his briefcase and shoved it roughly into Stella’s chest, forcing her to take it.

“Sign this now,” Gabe ordered coldly.

His eyes were hard, full of intimidation.

“This is a statement waiving all claims to marital assets. The house, the car, the land—it’s all in my name because I made the payments. You were just freeloading.”

“Sign it and I’ll give you $5,000 as charity. Enough for you to go back to your hometown and open a food stall.”

Stella looked at the blue folder in her hands, which were trembling with rage.

Five thousand.

Gabe valued her devotion, her sweat, and her loyalty—five years supporting him from nothing—at a mere $5,000.

Meanwhile, the house they lived in—the down payment—had come from Stella’s savings from sewing day and night before Gabe became successful.

“I’m not signing it, Gabe,” Stella refused.

Her voice trembled as she held back tears.

“We bought that house together. The down payment was my money. I have a right to that house.”

Gabe’s face turned red with anger.

The veins in his neck bulged.

He hadn’t expected the usually quiet and obedient Stella to dare contradict him in front of his colleague.

“You wretched woman,” Gabe hissed, taking a step closer until his face was just inches from Stella’s, trying to physically intimidate her.

“You want to play rough? You think that little bit of money you had back then means anything? I paid for the rest. You’re just a parasite—a leech.”

Gabe’s harsh words hung in the air.

His furious eyes were suddenly distracted by the figure of an old man sitting quietly on the bench next to where Stella stood.

The figure of an old man in worn clothes with a wooden cane—who had been listening silently all along, but who was now looking at Gabe with a strange, cold gaze.

Gabe frowned, annoyed by the presence of a stranger spoiling the scene.

He waved his hand at Mr. Kesler as if shooing away a beggar.

“Get out of here, old man. Don’t listen in on important people’s business. This is a private matter, not a free show,” Gabe yelled rudely.

Mr. Kesler remained unfazed, simply shifting the position of his cane calmly, music, and then smiling faintly—a smile full of mystery.

“Please continue, son. I’m enjoying the show.”

“It’s not often I get to see someone digging their own grave with their sharp tongue.”

Gabe stared, his eyes wide with offense.

“What did you say, you decrepit old man who doesn’t know his place?”

“Hey—security! Where are you? How can a vagrant get into the courthouse waiting area?”

“He’s just a nuisance.”

Gabe turned to Leo.

“Leo, call security. Tell them to drag this old man out of here. His smell is distracting me.”

“Gabe,” Stella exclaimed spontaneously, unable to bear seeing Mr. Kesler humiliated like that.

She took a step, shielding Mr. Kesler from her husband’s glare.

“Don’t be rude to your elders. Music. This man helped me on the bus earlier. He’s a good person with far more class than you.”

Gabe burst out laughing at Stella’s defense.

“Ah, so this is your new friend—a vagrant from the city bus. Ha-ha. Oh, Stella, you’ve really sunk low.”

Music.

“Divorced by a top lawyer. And now you’re seeking protection from a stinking beggar.”

“Perfect. You two make a great pair. Both equally pathetic.”

Leo also laughed mockingly, adjusting his tie with an arrogant gesture.

“Just let it go, boss. It’s not worth stooping to deal with the senile old man. It’s a waste of time. Just force your wife to sign and let’s get this over with.”

Gabe stopped laughing.

His face turned fierce again as he glared at Stella, ignoring Mr. Kesler, who was still sitting calmly behind.

Music.

“Stella. Listen, Stella—my patience is gone. Sign now or I swear that in that courtroom I will expose all your shameful secrets. I’ll make it so you can never show your face in this city again.”

Stella froze.

Her tears streamed down her face.

She felt so small in the face of Gabe’s power.

Behind Stella, Mr. Kesler slowly stood up.

His movements were calm but radiated a powerful aura of authority—a stark contrast to his worn clothes.

“Son,” Mr. Kesler’s voice was deep, resonant, and grave, music, making Gabe turn instinctively.

“Are you sure you want to continue with this arrogance? I advise you to speak respectfully to your wife and to your elders because in the legal world you boast about, ethics are paramount.”

Gabe glared at Mr. Kesler, his eyes burning.

His emotions peaked at being lectured by someone of a lower class.

“Who do you think you are to give me advice? What do you know about the law?”

“I’m Gabe Mendoza—a skilled attorney from the biggest firm in the city.”

“You’re just dust under my shoe. Get out of my sight before I have the guard drag you away.”

Mr. Kesler let out a long sigh, shaking his head slowly as if looking at a spoiled, lost child.

Gabe had no idea that the shout—music—he had just unleashed was the biggest mistake of his life.

He had just, music, awakened the giant whose portrait he worshipped on his office wall—but whose real face he didn’t recognize.

The atmosphere in the courthouse lobby suddenly fell silent, as if all the air had been sucked out by the escalating tension.

Gabe—his pride wounded by the old man’s rebuke—snorted rudely.

His hand, holding a pen, pointed at Mr. Kesler’s face, trembling with suppressed rage on the verge of exploding.

“Listen to me, old man!” Gabe growled, his eyes blazing with threat. “I don’t care who you are. If you open your mouth again, I’ll sue you for harassment.”

“This is between me and my wife, who doesn’t know her place.”

Gabe turned his rage back to Stella.

He grabbed her arm roughly, making her cry out in pain.

“Gabe, you’re hurting me!” Stella whimpered, trying to pull away from his grip.

“Sign it now. Music!” Gabe shouted, forcing the blue folder against Stella’s chest. “Don’t expect some prince charming to come and save you. Realize your position, Stella.”

“You are nothing without me.”

“Let her go.”

The voice boomed.

It wasn’t from Stella.

It was from Mr. Kesler.

This time, it wasn’t the voice of a frail, weak old man.

The voice thundered with authority and a resonant dignity that would make anyone’s courage shrink.

Gabe was startled.

He instinctively released his grip on Stella’s arm.

Mr. Kesler took a step forward.

The sound of his wooden cane hitting the ceramic floor was sharp and piercing.

He stood tall—his chest out—as if the weight of age that had stooped his back had vanished.

His once dull old eyes now glared at Gabe with a gaze as sharp as an eagle zeroing in on its prey.

“Since when does Kesler and Partners hire street thugs as senior associates?” Mr. Kesler asked, his tone cold and measured.

Gabe froze.

His eyes widened.

The name of the law firm was pronounced with a very specific intonation—one that a common person wouldn’t know.

Kesler and Partners was his workplace—one of the most prestigious law firms in the country.

“How do you know the name of my firm?” Gabe stammered.

His arrogance was beginning to crumble.

Mr. Kesler didn’t answer.

He slowly adjusted the collar of his worn plaid shirt.

Then, with a calm but meaningful gesture, he ran his fingers through his white hair, pushing it back.

His face was now clearly visible under the lights of the courthouse lobby.

The firm jawline.

The aquiline nose.

The distinctive mole under his left eye.

Leo—Gabe’s colleague standing behind him—suddenly went rigid.

The briefcase he was holding slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor with a thud.

“Leo, what’s wrong with you?” Gabe turned, confused by his colleague’s sudden pale and ghostlike appearance.

Leo’s body was trembling violently.

His eyes were fixed on Mr. Kesler’s face with a look of horror mixed with extraordinary awe.

“Boss,” Leo whispered.

His voice choked, pointing at Mr. Kesler with a trembling finger.

“Boss, Gabe… look closely. Look closely.”

“What am I looking at?” Gabe shouted, annoyed.

He turned back to look carefully at the old man in front of him.

It was then that time seemed to stand still for Gabe.

His eyes scanned the old face.

His memory flew to a giant six-foot-tall oil painting that hung majestically in the main lobby of Kesler and Partners.

The painting of the firm’s founder—the living legend of the legal world—the god of justice—whose books were required reading for every law student in the country.

The figure Gabe had always idolized, whose photo he kept on his desk for motivation, but whom he had never met in person because the legend had long since retired and withdrawn from public life.

The face before him—though older and thinner than in the painting—was the same face.

The blood drained from Gabe’s face instantly.

His face, once red with anger, now turned as white as a sheet of paper.

His legs felt weak like jelly.

Cold sweat, as large as beads of corn, began to form on his forehead.

His heart, which had been pounding with emotion, now throbbed with sheer terror.

“Mr. Kesler…” Gabe whispered, his voice almost inaudible, swallowed by an overwhelming fear.

Mr. Kesler smiled faintly.

But it wasn’t the kind smile from the bus.

It was the cold smile of a supreme judge ready to deliver a death sentence.

“It seems your eyes aren’t completely blind, Gabe Mendoza,” Mr. Kesler said calmly, using Gabe’s full name with precision.

“I thought you had forgotten the face of the founder of the place where you make your living.”

Gabe’s world collapsed in an instant.

His knees trembled so badly that he had to grab the back of a chair to keep from falling.

The scruffy-looking old man he had insulted as a vagrant, whom he had called smelly, whom he had tried to kick out like a dog…

…was Professor Arthur Kesler.

The sole owner of the law firm where he worked.

The person who held absolute control over his career and his future.

Stella, standing beside Mr. Kesler, watched the drastic change in confusion.

She saw her husband—who moments ago was as fierce as a lion—now shrink into a terrified mouse.

“Gabe… what’s wrong?” Stella asked innocently, not understanding the situation.

Gabe couldn’t answer.

His tongue was paralyzed.

His throat tight.

Leo—being the first to react—immediately bowed deeply, almost at a ninety-degree angle to Mr. Kesler.

His posture was filled with exaggerated fear and respect.

“I’m so sorry, Professor. I didn’t recognize you in those clothes. Please forgive my rudeness, Professor. I was just brought here by Gabe. I don’t know anything,” Leo stammered in a panic, trying to immediately wash his hands of the situation to save himself.

Mr. Kesler didn’t glance at Leo.

His gaze remained fixed on Gabe, who was still petrified with his mouth agape.

“You said your wife is an embarrassment because she takes the bus,” Mr. Kesler asked, his voice soft but piercing. “I also took the bus today. Does that mean I’m an embarrassment to you as well?”

Gabe shook his head weakly.

Tears of fear began to well up in his eyes.

“No, no, Professor. No, that’s not what I meant. I swear I didn’t know it was you.”

“I swear, Professor—if I had known it was you, you would have kissed my feet. Music.”

“Is that it?” Mr. Kesler interrupted sharply. “But because you thought I was a poor person, you felt you had the right to trample on me.”

“Is that the mentality of the lawyers I’ve trained at my firm?”

Mr. Kesler’s voice rose at the end of the sentence, echoing in the room.

Gabe felt as if he had been struck by lightning on a clear day.

If Professor Kesler testified against him, it would all be over.

There wasn’t a judge in the country who would dare to contradict the credibility of an Arthur Kesler.

Not only would he lose the divorce hearing, but Gabe’s career as a lawyer would also be shattered.

His name would be blacklisted throughout the entire legal community.

“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 groveling at his feet.

He was unmoved.

He slowly shifted his foot, breaking free from Gabe’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 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 bead on his temples, even though the room’s air conditioning was humming loudly.

Beside him, Leo—the usually smooth-talking and cunning lawyer—now sat as stiff as a wax figure about to melt.

He didn’t even dare to open his briefcase.

Leo knew very well that both of their careers were on the line in this room.

Facing Stella might have been easy.

But facing the shadow of the giant behind her was suicide.

On the other side, at the respondent’s table, Stella sat calmly.

Her hands were folded in her lap.

Next to her sat the figure of Mr. Kesler.

Although he was only wearing a worn plaid shirt and faded dress pants, the aura of dignity he radiated made the simple wooden chair feel like a king’s throne.

Mr. Kesler sat upright, both hands resting on his wooden cane.

His eyes were closed for a moment as if he were meditating, waiting for the battle to begin.

The bailiff called the court to order.

The side door opened.

Three judges in black robes and white ties entered the room.

Everyone present stood up.

The presiding judge—a middle-aged man with thick glasses and a stern face—walked to the center chair.

However, as his eyes scanned the room before sitting down, he suddenly paused.

The presiding judge’s eyes locked onto the figure of the old man at the respondent’s table.

He squinted, making sure he wasn’t mistaken.

A second later, his stern face changed to an expression of shock mixed with extraordinary respect.

He recognized him.

It was his former dissertation adviser.

A retired Supreme Court justice whose integrity was internationally renowned.

“Professor Kesler,” the presiding judge murmured, his voice clearly audible in the silent room.

The two associate judges also turned in surprise.

Then, instinctively, they slightly inclined their bodies toward the respondent’s table—a gesture of respect rarely seen in a courtroom.

Mr. Kesler opened his eyes, smiled faintly, and then gave a calm, dignified nod.

“Please proceed with your noble duty, Your Honor. Consider me not here. I am just an old man accompanying an acquaintance in her search for justice.”

The phrase, “Consider me not here,” had precisely the opposite effect.

Mr. Kesler’s presence completely changed the atmosphere in the room.

The presiding judge swallowed hard, aware that this hearing was being directly supervised by the Grandmaster himself.

The standard of justice in this room suddenly rose to the highest level.

There would be no room for foul play.

“Very well, Professor. Thank you for your presence. It is an honor for us,” the presiding judge replied, his voice slightly nervous but polite.

He then glared at Gabe, his look seeming to say:

Are you trying to get yourself killed, daring to go against someone protected by him?

The presiding judge struck the gavel three times.

“The hearing is now in session. Mr. Gabe Mendoza,” the presiding judge’s voice was grave and authoritative, “in the petition you filed, it states that you are seeking a divorce on the grounds of incompatibility, and you are also claiming full control of all marital assets—alleging that your wife, Mrs. Music Stella, has no financial contribution.”

“Do you stand by this petition?”

The room fell silent.

All eyes turned to Gabe.

Gabe tried to open his mouth, but his voice was stuck.

His tongue felt paralyzed.

He glanced sideways at Mr. Kesler.

The old man wasn’t looking at him—just staring straight ahead calmly.

But Gabe knew that one wrong word out of his mouth, one more lie told in front of his master’s master, and it would be over for him.

Mr. Kesler could easily destroy his reputation with a single phone call to the bar association.

Leo nudged Gabe under the table, signaling his panic.

Withdraw, boss. Withdraw the petition. Don’t be crazy.

Leo’s body language screamed.

Gabe trembled.

Music.

He remembered Mr. Kesler’s threat in the lobby.

Your integrity is zero.

If he insisted on impoverishing Stella in front of Mr. Kesler, he wouldn’t just lose respect.

He would lose his future.

The law firm where he worked was owned by Mr. Kesler.

“Mr. Mendoza,” the presiding judge called out more forcefully as Gabe didn’t respond, “I repeat, music, do you stand by your claim to the marital assets?”

Gabe took a deep breath.

A breath that felt heavy and painful.

He glanced at Stella for a moment.

She wasn’t looking at him with hatred, but with a look of pity.

That look stung Gabe’s pride more than anger ever could.

Music.

He realized he had already lost completely, even before the gavel fell.

“No, Your Honor,” Gabe finally answered, his voice weak like a deflated balloon.

The presiding judge raised his eyebrows.

“No? What do you mean?”

Gabe hung his head low, not daring to look up.

“I… I withdraw my claim to the marital assets, Your Honor. I… I acknowledge that the house and its contents are community property. I am even willing to surrender my share entirely to my wife as a form of my responsibility.”

Leo let out a sigh of relief beside him, music, nearly slumping out of his chair.

At least they weren’t committing mass suicide today.

Stella’s eyes widened in surprise.

She glanced at Mr. Kesler.

The old man remained calm.

There was no expression of victory on his face—just a slight nod, as if this were the normal and expected outcome.

“Let the record show,” the presiding judge said firmly, “Mr. Mendoza surrenders the assets in their entirety to Mrs. Stella.”

“So—what about the grounds for divorce? Do you still insist that Mrs. Stella is not worthy of being with you?”

This question was a trap.

If Gabe answered yes—with reasons of economic or social status as in the original petition—he would look incredibly petty in Mr. Kesler’s eyes.

Gabe shook his head weakly.

Tears of frustration and shame dripped onto the table.

“No, Your Honor. That reason is not relevant.”

“I was the one who was wrong. I was not able to be a good husband. I want a divorce because I am no longer worthy of her.”

A wave of restrained emotions spread through the tense room.

Gabe’s confession, though born of fear, sounded honest to Stella’s ears.

This was the first time Gabe had admitted his fault—even if he had to be forced by circumstances.

Mr. Kesler suddenly raised his right hand slightly.

“Your Honor, may I speak for a moment as the respondent’s companion?”

The presiding judge immediately nodded respectfully.

“Of course, Professor. The floor is yours.”

Mr. Kesler didn’t stand.

He remained seated, but his voice filled the room.

He didn’t look at the judge.

He stared intently at the profile of Gabe’s bowed head.

“The law was created to humanize humans.”

“Son,” Mr. Kesler said, his voice soft but cutting to the bone, “your law degree and your expensive suit are worthless if you use them to oppress the person who once devoted her life to you.”

“Today you lose your wife, but at least you saved what’s left of your conscience by telling the truth just now.”

“Do not repeat this mistake in the future. Be a lawyer who defends the truth, not one who defends greed.”

Gabe sobbed quietly.

His shoulders shook.

Those words were both a slap and a final piece of advice from the idol he had disappointed.

The shame he felt today would be etched in his memory for life—becoming a nightmare he would never forget.

“Thank you, Professor,” the presiding judge said quietly.

He then reasserted his authority.

“Very well. Since the petitioner has admitted his fault and surrendered his rights to the assets, and both parties agree to separate, the court will now proceed to read the judgment immediately.”

Stella listened to every word from the judge’s mouth with mixed feelings—relief, sadness, but also a sense of liberation.

She wouldn’t be left destitute.

She wouldn’t be humiliated.

Instead, she had watched her arrogant husband crumble in remorse.

When the gavel struck three times, finalizing the divorce decree, Stella felt as if a thousand-ton weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

She turned to the side, looking at Mr. Kesler’s old, serene face.

“Thank you, sir,” Stella whispered, her eyes filled with tears. “You didn’t just help me on the bus. You saved my life.”

Mr. Kesler smiled, patting the back of Stella’s hand.

“It wasn’t me, my dear. It was your own kindness that saved you. I was just an instrument.”

Across the table, Gabe slowly stood up.

He didn’t dare look at Stella—let alone Mr. Kesler.

He nodded to the judge with a trembling hand.

Then he walked quickly out of the room without looking back, followed by a stumbling Leo.

Gabe left carrying a crushing defeat and a shame that would haunt his career forever.

Meanwhile, Stella remained seated—upright—ready to embrace a new chapter of her life with her head held high.

The trial of conscience had been won by honesty.

The hearing room door slowly closed behind music Stella, leaving all the bitterness of the past inside.

The sound of Gabe’s hurried footsteps faded down the corridor as he fled from his own shadow.

The man who had arrived this morning with his head held high, full of arrogance, now disappeared around the corner.

His shoulders slumped, not daring to glance back at Stella even once.

Leo, his lawyer, followed at a distance, as if he no longer wanted music to be associated with the loser who had just been humiliated by his own mentor.

Stella let out a long sigh.

The air outside the hearing room felt much fresher, as if the oxygen supply that had been blocked in her chest was now flowing freely again.

She was no longer the unvalued wife of a successful lawyer.

She was now a free woman who had successfully defended her rights, her dignity, and her home—all earned through her own sweat.

“Are you at peace now, my dear?”

The deep, gentle voice greeted her from the side.

Stella turned.

Mr. Kesler was smiling warmly at her.

The intimidating aura he had projected in front of Gabe and the judges was gone, replaced once again by the figure of the kind, fatherly old man.

“Very much at peace, sir. I feel like a huge boulder has been lifted off my back,” Stella answered honestly, her eyes welling with tears. “I don’t know how to thank you enough. If you hadn’t been here, I might have walked out with nothing but the clothes on my back.”

They walked slowly together toward the exit of the building.

Mr. Kesler’s pace was still slow, aided by his cane, and Stella faithfully matched her steps to his—staying by his side, just as she had when they first met on the bus.

“You don’t have to thank me, Stella,” Mr. Kesler said, looking out at the sunny courthouse courtyard. “Your victory today isn’t because of me, but because of the sincerity of your own heart.”

“God is the great director of everything. He arranged the script for you to take the same bus as me, for you to help me, and for me to be there to return the favor.”

“That is God’s way of embracing you when you are in trouble.”

As they reached the entrance lobby, a sleek black sedan—far more luxurious than Gabe’s—was already waiting.

A chauffeur in an impeccable uniform quickly got out and opened the rear door.

Apparently, Mr. Kesler’s driver had come to pick him up.

Mr. Kesler paused for a moment before getting into the car.

He reached into the pocket of his plaid shirt and pulled out a simple ivory-colored business card with embossed gold lettering.

It had only a name and a personal phone number—without a long list of titles.

“Keep this,” Mr. Kesler said, placing the card in Stella’s hands. “Your house is secure now, but life must go on. If you ever need a job or legal assistance in the future, don’t hesitate to call this number.”

“The doors of my firm are always open to honest people like you.”

Stella accepted the card with trembling hands.

She bowed respectfully and kissed the back of Mr. Kesler’s hand like a daughter to her father.

“Thank you, sir. May you always be blessed with health and long life.”

“One more thing,” Mr. Kesler said, giving Stella’s shoulder a gentle pat.

His gaze was deep and serious.

“Never regret this separation. Don’t cry over losing that man. You didn’t lose anything, Stella.”

“He is the one who lost everything by chasing after stones and throwing away a jewel. You have just reclaimed your dignity.”

“Go home with your head held high. Redecorate your house. Cook your favorite meal and start a new happy life.”

Stella nodded firmly.

Tears of emotion streamed down her cheeks, but this time they were not tears of sadness.

“Yes, sir. I will remember your words.”

Mr. Kesler smiled broadly and then got into his luxury car.

The window rolled down slowly, revealing a final wave from the legal legend before the car pulled away—leaving the courthouse parking lot and driving into the bustling city.

After Mr. Kesler left, Stella stood alone on the sidewalk, but strangely, she didn’t feel lonely.

She felt whole.

She looked toward the street where the CTA bus she had taken that morning was passing by again, its black smoke trailing behind.

That old bus—which she once considered a symbol of her poverty—had turned out to be the chariot that carried her to justice.

Stella looked up at the clear, cloudless blue sky.

The sun was shining brightly—dazzling, but warm.

She touched the pocket of her dress, feeling the texture of the business card Mr. Kesler had given her, and the keys to the house that were now legally hers.

There was no more fear.

No more low self-esteem.

Gabe might have status and money, but Stella had something that money can’t buy:

Courage.

And a clear conscience.

Stella smiled broadly—the most sincere smile she had shown in the past year.

She walked with a light step toward the bus stop, ready to return to her home, her castle, to begin a new chapter.

Life is full of surprises, music, and today Stella learned that kindness—no matter how small—is never in vain.

Justice had found its way home just before sunset.

Moral of the story: kindness and good character are the best investments—ones that never yield a loss.

Never look down on others based on their outward appearance.

And never be afraid to do good, even when you are facing hardship yourself.

In the end, integrity and a sincere heart will always triumph over arrogance and the highest positions.

God never sleeps when counting the deeds of his children.

And to you who have made it this far, I want to ask:

What would you have done in Stella’s place?