A meal.
A conversation.
Nothing more.
She did not tell Erik.
The relationship developed through small concessions.
Matthias began sending messages unrelated to the case.
A photograph of a building he knew she’d appreciate.
A book recommendation.
A remark about the weather in Berlin.
Helena responded occasionally.
Then frequently.
She knew she should stop.
The professional problem was obvious.
Her personal involvement could compromise her judgment, create conflicts, threaten her ability to continue representing him, and damage the case itself.
She had advised younger lawyers about similar boundaries.
She had spoken about them at conferences.
Yet she found reasons to treat her circumstances as exceptional.
Matthias was isolated.
The media had already convicted him in the public imagination.
He needed stability.
She understood the case better than anyone.
Abandoning him at a delicate stage would be irresponsible.
Each explanation contained enough truth to disguise the choice underneath it.
Then, one evening in Stockholm, Matthias invited her to dinner at an apartment he had rented while awaiting trial.
She declined.
He did not insist.
Two days later, he asked again.
She accepted.
His apartment overlooked a quiet courtyard.
There were books on the shelves and a vase of pale flowers beside the window.
He had cooked dinner himself.
Helena arrived carrying a bottle of wine.
She told herself she would stay for one hour.
They ate at a small table near the window.
Matthias spoke about his childhood in Hamburg, his mother’s illness, and the difficulties of building a business across two countries.
He described himself as a man who had spent years trying to satisfy other people’s expectations.
Helena recognised the sentiment.
She spoke about her marriage to Anders.
The divorce.
The guilt she felt about Sofia.
Matthias listened without interrupting.
When she finished, he looked at her.
“You spend your life taking responsibility for everyone.”
She smiled tiredly.
“Occupational habit.”
“Who’s responsible for you?”
The question was intimate in a way she did not immediately know how to resist.
She looked down at her glass.
“Nobody has to be.”
He reached across the table and touched her hand.
She could have moved it away.
She did not.
They sat like that for several seconds.
Then Matthias stood.
Helena looked up.
He stepped toward her.
For a moment, she saw the situation with complete clarity.
Her client.
The charge.
The dead woman.
The ethical obligation.
Everything she stood to lose.
She knew what she should do.
Then he kissed her.
And she kissed him back.
Afterwards, Helena sat alone in her car outside his building.
The city was quiet.
She had left his apartment shortly after midnight.
Her lips still felt warm.
She stared at the steering wheel.
For several minutes, she tried to construct a version of the evening that did not mean what it meant.
She had been lonely.
He had been vulnerable.
The relationship had developed under extraordinary pressure.
None of that changed the central fact.
She had crossed a boundary she understood perfectly.
Her phone lit up.
A message from Matthias.
I don’t regret it.
Helena stared.
Then typed:
We can’t do this again.
She waited.
His reply came a minute later.
I know.
For several seconds, she felt relieved.
Then another message arrived.
But I wish you were here.
She closed her eyes.
She did not respond.
The next evening, she returned.
Their affair lasted nearly four months.
It was secretive, intense, and increasingly destructive.
Helena began arranging her schedule around Matthias’s availability.
She withdrew from dinners with colleagues.
She became impatient when Erik questioned her decisions.
She spent nights at Matthias’s apartment and returned home early enough to make Sofia breakfast, convincing herself the two lives could remain separate.
But secrets changed her behaviour.
She became protective of Matthias in meetings where she had once been sceptical.
When Freja identified inconsistencies in one of his statements, Helena dismissed them too quickly.
When a forensic expert challenged an interpretation favourable to the defence, she questioned his qualifications more aggressively than the evidence warranted.
Erik noticed.
One afternoon, he entered her office and closed the door.
“Something is wrong.”
Helena looked up from her laptop.
“With what?”
“With you.”
She leaned back.
“I’m listening.”
“You’ve stopped testing his account.”
“That’s not true.”
“You attack anyone who questions it.”
“Because half the questions are incompetent.”
Erik studied her.
“Helena.”
She looked away.
He waited.
Then asked whether she was personally involved with Matthias.
Her stomach tightened.
For a moment, she considered lying.
Then she realised she already had.
Not necessarily with words.
With omissions.
With the way she defended him.
With the decisions she’d begun making for reasons she refused to examine.
“That’s an inappropriate question.”
Erik closed his eyes.
“Dear God.”
She stood.
“Don’t.”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
She remained silent.
He looked at her.
“You have to withdraw.”
“I can’t.”
“You have to.”
“The trial is approaching.”
“Then we arrange a proper transition.”
“He trusts me.”
Erik stared.
“That’s precisely the problem.”
Helena felt anger rise.
“You don’t know what this case has been like.”
“I know exactly what it’s been like. I’ve been working on it beside you.”
She looked away.
