Why do I fall apart when the judge pushes back?

You know the motion cold. You've built it, tested it, said it out loud a dozen times. Then the judge cuts in with something you didn't rehearse, and for a second your mind goes white. You feel exposed, as if the whole argument just came apart in your hands. But look plainly at what happened. The judge asked a question. That is all. The panic came from you, not the bench. You had prepared a script, not a foundation — so anything off-script felt like collapse instead of just another turn in the road. The fix is not a sharper opening. It's practice at being asked what you didn't expect, until the unexpected stops feeling like an attack and starts feeling like the job.