Chapter 1: The Final Visit

There are just two hours left until the execution. I step into the cell, the iron door clanging shut behind me, its echo rattling down the corridor. The air inside is thick—humid as a June morning in Maharashtra, with the sharp scent of Dettol mixing with a faint trace of incense drifting from the guardroom nearby. Silence presses in, heavy and expectant.

Arvind sits on the cot, his posture rigid. He glances up, eyes reflecting a curious blend of weariness and defiance. "Abhi goli se uda denge na? Sab kuch mitti ho jayega, na? Feels like such a waste, this kind of ending. But still, I want to try one last time. Koi chance hai ki main kuch badal sakun?"

He looks at me, his gaze steady. Then, with a flicker of a smile that is neither warm nor cold, he adds, "How about I tell you a story, Dr. Mehra?"

For a second, he adjusts his posture, fingers tapping nervously on the concrete floor. His eyes dart to the barred window, where the sunlight fights its way past grime and iron.

His ambiguous smile sends a chill through me. With only two hours left, does he truly believe he can overturn his fate?

Outside, the distant clang of utensils from the mess mingles with the occasional caw of a crow perched atop the mango tree near the wall. The drone of a ceiling fan above barely stirs the muggy air. In this moment, all of it recedes. What remains is the unsettling composure of the man before me—a calm more unnerving than the violence he is accused of.