" It is good, Suma. Do they serve this dish at your restaurant?" asked my therapist, Geeta. Behind her were white walls, large windows, a calendar hanging in the corner, swaying in the wind, a clock ticking sound, and the scent of sanitizer. Everything in this room looked the same. I could never get used to this atmosphere—this silence, no matter how many times I come here. "No, it's a new recipe, still not completely ready. I brought it here to get some opinions," I replied, squeezing the white napkin in my hands and waiting for her reaction."It's sweet, slightly tangy, and there's a bit of spice at the end… It's really good! Makes me want to eat more. Paddu, stop hanging on that door and come here," she called out.

"Madam!" Her assistant, Padmaja, ran in as if she was waiting for this. She took a spoonful to taste. "It's delicious, but… something's missing."

"Right?" I covered my mouth, deep in thought. I haven’t created a new dish for so long that I feel like I have lost my touch. "Should I tell you what's missing?" asked Geeta while Paddu and I both nodded.

"Confidence! Chef, you're missing your confidence. It's been a long time since you tried a new dish. What's the occasion?" She started her usual investigation. "Just for a competition." I began packing the plates and spoons into the box I had brought. “Which one?” “YCD," “the ycd, the one you couldn't attend two years ago?” Geeta raised her tone unnecessarily high with excitement “hmm”, “Go for it, the world changes for the people who show courage! , but why this year? Last time, you said you won’t participate in competitions.” “Don’t know.” “Ahh again with that attitude. Actually, you are my only patient to bring dishes to therapy,” she exclaimed.

"I don’t know if  therapy is working, but my restaurant still needs to work, right?" 

"Got you! Speaking of work, did you do the homework I gave you last time?" I tried to change the subject, but Geeta Madam didn't let go. "I did… but let's just say it failed." As soon as I said that, she gave me a look, "So, you didn't do it, huh? One whole year has passed like this… how will I face your father? You can't even talk directly to a person, you still wear the same black clothes, and it's been two years since that incident—", Before she could bring up old wounds, I raised my hands in surrender.

"I did it, madam. I swear… I made a call. Do you want me to show the call records? I did call an unknown number!"

"And the file?"

Paddu, sitting beside us, murmured.

"You be quiet!" Geeta snapped at her.

"Good, good. Improvement after all this time! So, what happened? Who did you talk to? How long did you speak?" Geeta bombarded me with questions. "I called a jail," I muttered.

"A jail? I asked you to talk to new people, and you directly dialed 100?" They both laughed.

"Not 100, just a normal 10-digit number. It turned out to be a convict's number… and it got connected." My voice grew softer at the end

"So that's why it failed! You hung up when you realized it was a jail?" “I couldn't hang up. The guard who picked up the phone eagerly said he would call the prisoner. He told me no one ever calls that number, that I was the first person to do so, and that the prisoner had been waiting for his family for a long time." "Did you tell him you weren’t family?"

"I tried, but he didn’t listen at all. He instead lectured me, saying that just because he's a convict doesn’t mean he has no family! That at a time like this, even Arjun needs someone…. He went on to say I should speak with him once to understand. The phone was put on hold. I could hear laughter and whispers from the other side—' Number 321 has a family? I thought he was an orphan!’ ‘Look at him acting high and mighty! I thought his family abandoned him!', ‘He thinks he is better than all of us just because he killed two people.’ Their words were whispered yet loud enough, as if they wanted him to hear.

Then, I heard footsteps approaching, the sound of the phone being picked up, and a rough voice saying, "Hello? Another god's messenger come to save me? Let me bow to you—so, is this some religious conversion scam?” "Religious conversion? No, no! I have called the wrong number—" I tried to explain, "Oh, really? Same excuse as the last ten people who called. Next, you'll say if I change my faith, my sins will be forgiven, right? Auntie, do you even know what a death sentence means? Do you think jail is a picnic?" He mocked. i gritted my teeth in anger. "Auntie?! Ugh! I said, I don't care about you or your religion!"

"Oh, wow, almost believed you there… So, if I change my name, will God cancel my punishment?"

"Arjun, wait a minute. She's telling the truth. This is a new number. It's not your family," the guard interrupted.

But Arjun wasn't listening. He only got angrier.

"My family? Ha! Do you have no shame lying like this? You fell for her tricks, Kiran? And you, girl, don't you have anything better to do?" He spoke to both of us at once. He spoke as if I wasn’t even a person, but I am a person. I have a voice. So, I lashed out.

"Yes, I have nothing better to do, so I called you to waste my time! Your sins won’t wash away even if you dip in ganga; what will changing religions do? You killed two people and are happily sitting in jail—"Before I could finish my sentence, I heard a loud thud, followed by chaos. No one answered even after I called several times. Two minutes later, Kiran, the guard, picked up and updated me on the situation. Arjun had suddenly collapsed while talking to me, and they had to take him to the doctor. "He was shouting just fine earlier. What happened?" I asked. Kiran said Arjun couldn't bear hearing about his crime. He regrets and repents in his own way. "How did you feel after hearing that?" Geeta Madam brought me back to the present.

"I felt like I made a mistake… I spoke unnecessarily."

"Did you call him again?" asked Paddu eagerly. I nodded.

"I didn’t call, but Kiran did. He said Arjun was fine now and wanted to talk to me. I heard Arjun’s voice on the phone again "So, Auntie, did you call again to discuss my salvation?"

"My name is Sumanika. I’m not your aunt. You are the one who wanted to talk, right?" I snapped.

"Me? Kiran said you were the one calling," he said, confused. I didn't care who called whom.

"I spoke wrongly that day. I heard you ended up in the hospital because of me. I'm sorry."

“I never thought I would hear an apology intended for me,” he reminisced. He admitted he was wrong and that he misunderstood me; he said he had assumed I was part of a religious scam because of my language… ”So all these problems because of my proper grace convent language.”

“ you also went to a grace convent?”, “yes, don’t tell me i went to the same school as a prisoner!” “Seems like you did, I graduated in 2012”  “mee too, sir, I have goosebumps!” 

“THE grace convent in vasanth nagar?” “Yes exactly that one, same class and same section too? I was in A section” “i was in the b, but I remember seeing you a lot, after our classes merged in 9th?” “Unfair i don’t remember you”

“Of course you don’t, i was a nobody while you were the topper” “i was not!”

“You were so active, out and about, so confident…you were probably the only person that talked to me.”  “really?” “Yep, you used to share your homework with me because i was an utter zero in studies… “yeah, only because i was in charge of collecting it, right i remember now.” we both laughed. After reminiscing about our school for a while, He asked what made me call a jail in the first place? When I said it was a long story, he replied he liked long stories. He was a painter, and he wanted to spend his remaining time in peace. He had regrets, but he wasn’t running away from them.I wanted to be like that too. I want to move forward in my life, irrespective of past regrets. I want change, i want my habit of running away from problems to change.

"So that prisoner is your schoolmate? How many times have you spoken since then?"

"Yep, Five or six times. We even wrote letters since calls are limited." "Did you plan to meet?" “nah!, i don’t even remember my classmates' faces, what will I say after meeting him?”

I heard Geeta and paddu’s conversation that day while sitting outside.

"This is the first time I’ve seen Suma wear a color other than black."
"She lost a lot at a young age—her son passed away, and in the midst of that grief, she also got divorced. She completely distanced herself from people."
"Yes, in these two years, I have never seen Suma so active. She always looked as if life had ended for her. I hope she stays like this, I want to meet my old classmate too…aah memories, the nostalgia!"

I don’t remember exactly how I used to be before, but now, for the first time, I feel like I am looking forward to tomorrow. I called all my friends that i am in touch with in case someone knew him…I wanted to know if such a coincidence really existed.

In the next therapy session…after completing the routine check, “So, when are you going to meet him again?” Paddu asked, resting her cheek on her hand with a smug expression.

When I answered with a ‘why would i meet him’, she raised her hands in surrender, saying you are going around asking about him, so I thought, never mind! "Okay, that aside, do you know what crime he committed to be sentenced to life imprisonment?" Paddu asked a thoughtful question for the first time.

"It depends on the case… we don’t know," I replied. You have never asked? Nope, I replied, checking my phone.

" is your dish completed?" she asked.”Not yet.” Contrary to my reply, two days later, I stood outside the jail.

I needed to ask him something—how could someone who seemed so kind commit a crime serious enough for a death sentence? Why? Knowing he will regret it for life? Was I talking to a murderer or my schoolmate? Like Paddu said?

As I walked forward with my head down, the flickering lights, the rusted iron bars, and the long corridors
"Sit here, ma’am," Kiran directed me to a meeting room and left.

Five minutes later, two people entered the room—Kiran and a man with shackled hands, paint stains on his clothes, dark circles under his eyes, and a tall frame. He sat in front of me and casually drank the coffee placed on the table. From up close, he looked less like a prisoner and more like a starving artist.

"You haven’t come here to convert me, have you?" He joked, "I didn’t think you would come," Arjun said.

"I gave my word. How could I not come? But you are nothing like I imagined." I took a sip of coffee.

"What did you imagine? A man with a thick mustache, muscles, and a cruel look? Or a demon with sharp fangs?"

"The second one," I admitted, making him chuckle. “I was told you were the gloomy specs kid, who used to sit in the back bench." "You investigated me?”

“Something like that. Where are your specs?”

“I never had specs; I used to wear them just to look like a good kid." "Tch.” I rolled my eyes.

He mentioned that he had started painting again. I explained my dish-making process… I could never imagine talking to someone like this…after so long, I felt like rekindling with my past self with the innocent convent-going sumanika.

"Seeing you put so much into your dish, I want to taste it once," he almost drooled.

"I’ll let you taste it once it’s complete," I promised.

"Did you start painting after coming here?" I asked, drinking from the other cup

"I’ve been painting since I was a child. My boss at the Grace Orphanage used to say that if I showed my paintings to visitors, someone might adopt me. So, I learned... but it never worked out. Later, I started selling them to survive." I used to sit near the broken pump in the Grace Convent and paint with mud under it.”

"Oh, that pump never worked properly, did it!”

“Yes, and do you remember the head sister? She used to randomly point at a student and torture them.”

“I was one of her tortured students; she made me sing a song in front of the whole assembly once!”

“I wish I could go back to see the convent once…” he sighed. "Once upon a time, I used to paint the sky and imagine I was up there. But now..."

"How did you even end up here?" I finally asked.

"Do you really want to know?" Arjun asked solemnly before beginning his story.

"I was born an orphan. ever since I was locked in this cell, I feel like I'm dying every day. My memories are stretching out... each moment reminds me of the days I was free. The world has moved on, but I’m stuck here. My career is destroyed. Every day, I pick up the brush to paint something, but I just can’t... Not until you entered my life."

"I used to dream of walking outside again, sitting in a park, and watching the sunset. But now, as my death draws nearer, fear and regrets chase me."

"Don't worry, there’s still time. What if your appeal leads to a retrial?" I comforted him.

"I’m not afraid of dying... I just want to apologize to that mother. Just like my boss said, I’ve always only thought about myself. Even now, I’m still thinking about myself. That day, I was sitting in the park with my paintings when my manager called and said that Suvardhan, the famous art journalist, liked my work. This was my golden opportunity. He just had to write a small paragraph about the painting. That was supposed to be the biggest day of my career, but it turned out to be the worst. One wrong review, my wrong reaction… and a child lost his life. I must apologize to them." The moment I heard Arjun mention Suvardhan’s name, it was as if I stopped hearing.

"A child lost his life?" My heart sank.

My husband Suvardhan. my child. Ambulance sirens. Chaos. I felt like I was back to that day in that hospital, standing helplessly and watching darkness run me over.

No. No. This couldn’t be about my son. I convinced myself quickly.

"When did this happen?" I asked.

"Two years ago. I was sentenced to death last year. That child’s mother…" The coffee cup slipped from my hands and shattered. My worst fears have come true.

"Not just one child... that mother lost two children." I didn't even realize when my tears started falling, the tears that I thought dried up two years ago

"She couldn't even see them one last time… She lost not just her children but her entire family. For two years, she’s been drowning in silence, unable to speak to anyone. But you? You are sitting here, eating well, painting happily, living comfortably! You Murderer!" Arjun’s eyes widened in shock."You…?" I stood up, and he did the same.

" Like every other day, I took my son to the restaurant after school. I was caught up in work. I was running for a competition and thought he would stay nearby... I assumed he was safe with people we knew. But when I couldn’t find him, I panicked and searched everywhere—he was kidnapped. my husband came home only to beat me up in anger and helplessness… I had to drag myself to the hospital, where they told me I had lost my unborn child, too. Both my divorce papers and my son's lifeless body arrived at the same hospital. Everyone blamed me, and I knew they were right. I should have kept Adi with me that day; I should have been better; I should have focused on my child more than that stupid competition! Nine months of carrying him, years of raising him... and in one day, everything was gone. Who should I question, and where do I ask for justice? Will my son come back? Will you give him back to me? I shouted and howled as I tried to grab him.

I thought I had left my past behind, but it was standing right in front of me. Moving forward is impossible now; the friendship that I gained the past few months turned sour again. My childhood friend killed my son; ridiculous to even hear, right? That is life. I started having terrible dreams at night again. Two weeks later, I received a letter from jail. I didn’t read it. I never wanted to.

I didn't want to hear any justifications or excuses for what had happened. Two weeks later, under the guise of cycling physical therapy, I went out with Geeta Madam and Paddhu.

"You may not get all the answers, but you will find closure for your fear, suffering, and pain... and that closure will help you move forward. Face your struggles," she advised after listening to everything.

"Face them? Will my Adi come back if I do? I don’t think I can forgive him in this life."

"Whether you forgive him or not, your son will not return, and your life will never be the same again. But knowing the truth will give you the strength to face the future—" Geeta Madam said.

"Yes, Suma, maybe God himself sent you on this path; otherwise, why would your call randomly connect to him?" Paddhu added.

No matter how much I thought about it, there was no other way. As Geeta Madam said, how many more days would I spend hating someone, tormenting myself with pain? Seeking justice was my right, and asking for forgiveness was his.

My anger and suffering were real, but so was his regret and remorse. I had decided to stop running from problems, hadn't I? If I wanted this issue never to haunt me again, I had to resolve it now. So, I read the letter. It took me an hour just to open it, but reading it took much less time.

“I came to your house. I wanted him to know how utterly resigned I was because of him. I wanted to teach Suvardhan a lesson or at least to persuade him to see my paintings again. Unexpectedly, I saw the boy playing there. I thought I could use him as leverage to get the article removed. I thought that Suvardhan would write a new article in my favor. In a moment of confusion, I took the boy to my shared apartment, only to regret it the next second. I did not understand what to do, so I told Adi to stay put in my room as I went out to talk to my manager.

After talking to my manager, I realized my mistake and decided to send the boy back. But when I returned to my room, I saw him limp with paint in his mouth, bruises… Panicking, my roommate and I, along with the manager, took Adi to the nearest hospital immediately. The doctor's report terrified me. It had already been three hours since. "From the doctors, I learned that this was my roommate's doing. Three cases were filed against me. I believed that since I had done nothing wrong, the law would be just. That did not happen.

My roommate was a minor, so he escaped severe punishment despite being responsible. However, CCTV footage showed me taking Adi away, which trapped me in the case. I later filed a new case against my roommate for murder and assault, with the help of my manager… i couldn’t watch him getting away unscraped…he knew what he was doing despite his age. The law should give Adi justice and punish my roommate for his doings.

Regardless, Adi would never return, so I asked for forgiveness once again.”

After reading the letter, I decided to talk to him, so I called the jail.

"Arjun’s execution is today. The warrant arrived yesterday. He tried calling you one last time, but you didn't pick up. Now he has been moved to another chamber." Kiran said the answer waiting for me was disappointment and regret. I thought I had more time. I should have answered the call and listened to what he had to say. I ran away again…I didn't want to repeat it; I could not see my face in the mirror now.

"Can I see him one last time?"

"No, madam, it's too late now. It's out of my hands."

"Please... I need to talk to him," I begged, feeling like the ground beneath my feet was slipping away. After a lot of processes, they finally allowed me to meet him regarding the case, but only briefly. I hurriedly got ready and rushed to the prison.

These three months had passed in the blink of an eye. Whatever happens, he is indeed my childhood friend. He was the reason for my change, and I might not be able to see him ever again after today. In the room, Arjun looked thinner than the last time I saw him.

As soon as he entered the meeting room, I said, "I finished my dish."

He smiled faintly and asked, "Name?" "Adipancharasam."

He sat down in the chair, and I placed a plate with five small portions in front of him. This time, they didn't remove his handcuffs. Kiran said he would feed him.

Arjun remained silent as he finished the entire plate.

I quickly gave him water. When he hiccuped while he drank it hurriedly, looking embarrassed.

"I never ate home-cooked food from my mother since childhood... My life has been full of incomplete experiences. I never had what every child seemed to have. This last meal...you bought for me, thanks to our friendship. It is delicious..." He handed me the case file.

"Even if he's a minor, justice is the same for everyone. I fought for this as long as I lived. Now, I'm leaving it in your hands."

Until yesterday, I had so much anger toward him. Where did all that rage go? Why are my eyes filled with tears now?

"I forgive you. Not for you. Not for Adi. But for myself. I have been living in a prison of my own making for all these days. Now, I want to free myself. I want to see my son’s photos without pain. I want to move forward. As for this case... Thank you. Because of you, I can fight for my son’s justice. I don't know if the punishment is too big for what you did. I don't know if your future is ruined. My anger toward you remains; you are still my friend. I wish I never met you again; I wish I could blame you for the rest of my life... But I know who you are. Adi is no longer in this world because of you, but the entire blame isn't yours alone.

I have nothing to give you except this forgiveness."

Arjun broke down in tears. Seeing him, Kiran also started crying.

"If you forgive me, that's enough. That is more than enough—"

Just then, someone called out, "Prisoner Number 321!"

Arjun got up, hugged Kiran, and started walking forward. At the gate, he turned back and looked at me one last time.

"I have a gift for you too, Suma. I will tell Adi that you miss him; your few months of friendship fulfilled my short life. Goodbye," he said with a faint smile and walked away.

Kiran and I stood there, waiting as if the verdict would change, expecting him to walk back into the room, which did not happen.

A loud horn sounded.

It wasn't until after Arjun’s execution that I learned what his 'gift' was. Kiran handed me a painting. Arjun's last painting, to be exact… From your friend, it said... it was filled with red hues all over, as if painted with blood... I dropped down on the floor, crying and holding the painting… it looked so real, as if my son Adi would walk out of the painting and call me Mom.

Six months passed in a blink.

As usual, I was busy at the restaurant, preparing for the opening.

"Suma!"

"You’re here already?"

"Yes, your parents are sitting over there."

"Okay, everything's ready... Have a seat. The dishes will be served soon. "Oho, your new title; is this the new license?” “Hmm.”

"Did Arjun paint this?" Geeta asked, looking at the wall. We both turned to see the painting of a smiling Adi.

"Regret." Paddhu read its name aloud.

"Arjun’s paintings have become famous, haven’t they? After his death, their value skyrocketed," Geeta Madam said.

"What’s the name of this dish, Suma?" she asked.

"Regret." I placed the plates in front of them. So this is the winning dish! Congratulations! Everyone around me cheered; they took a bite, wondering why the dish was named that.

"If we don’t eat this, will we regret it?" Geeta asked.

"Or will those who ate it regret not having it earlier?" my father added.

"No, no! It’s because this dish is so expensive that people will regret not being able to eat it again," Paddhu joked. Everyone laughed.

I let out a small chuckle and walked back into the restaurant kitchen, ‘regret for the fleeting life of my schoolmate I unexpectedly met, regret for that lost friendship.