Michelle exhales sharply. “Your Honor—”

The judge does not look up. “This is not a discussion.”

She finishes writing and signs. “The respondent shall submit a formal fee declaration within fourteen days. Payment shall be made in full within thirty days of the court’s final order.”

The judge finally looks up—her gaze unwavering, unmistakably final. “Let this serve as notice, this courtroom will not be used to relitigate the emotional aftermath of your divorce.”

She strikes the gavel again. “We are adjourned…”

The gang exchange glances, their bodies practically vibrating with restrained celebration.

Bette’s eyes fill with tears as she turns to Joyce, her voice thick with emotion. ”Thank you.…”

Joyce smiles and shakes her head. “Anytime….” She says with a conspiratorial wink, her fingers closing around the handle of her Italian leather briefcase before she and her impeccably dressed team glide toward the exit.

Bette strides purposefully around the table and immediately pulls Tina into her arms, pressing a tender kiss to her lips.

”It’s over, baby…” Bette whispers against Tina’s mouth, her hands cradling Tina’s face.

”It’s over…” Tina replies, her hair framing her radiant smile as she returns a slower, deeper kiss that speaks of relief and promise.

Kit smiles as she playfully tries to pry Bette and Tina apart. “Come on…lunch on me…”

The group files out of the oak-paneled courtroom, their footsteps echoing on the marble floor. Bette and Tina exit exactly as they entered, fingers intertwined, shoulders touching…

***

In the rain-slicked parking lot, Bette eases open the passenger door without a word. Her hands are steady, fingers guiding Tina inside as though cradling something fragile. The door clicks shut with a muted thud against the relentless patter of raindrops.

Bette is halfway around the car when she sees Michelle half-running, half-stumbling toward her. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “Here we fucking go…” she quietly says.

“Bette—” Michelle says, breathless, panicked.

“What the fuck do you want, Michelle?” Bette snaps, not slowing her pace.

“You can’t be serious about making me pay all that money—”

Bette stops. Slowly. She turns, eyes cold and surgical. “If you have questions, take them up with my lawyer.”