~Episode 10~
"There's no freedom in a cell."
Ivan said it quietly at first, but his voice carried a strange confidence, as if he truly believed every syllable he spoke.
Ryaan didn't slow down. His footsteps stayed steady on the pavement, schoolbag bouncing lightly with each step. "Who says? Have you ever seen a cell before?"
"I didn't. But—"
Ivan stopped there. He had never seen a real cell in his life. Not once. The only prisons he knew were the ones shown in movies and crime series. His ideas about cells were shaped by actors, dim lighting, and dramatic soundtracks.
But a few days ago, when he went out with his mother for school stationery shopping, something changed.
A police jeep stood outside a small outpost, its back door open. Inside, he had seen the shadow of a narrow room, a metal bed frame, thick iron bars. It wasn't a long look maybe only a second or two but that second stayed with him. That glimpse became his first real interaction with a cell in all seventeen years of his life.
"I did," Ryaan said suddenly, his tone sharper. "My father. He used to tell me everything. He spent his days playing cards, playing games, watching TV. They do everything for entertainment. They get good food eggs twice a day, rice, protein. Don't you think they enjoy life more in there than we do outside?"
Ivan watched him walk ahead, almost cutting through the morning air with his words. They were nearing the school gate, and students around them kept laughing, talking, running to their classes. But those sounds didn't reach Ivan and Ryaan. They were trapped inside their conversation about justice, about law, about the world being unfair.
"I don't think so," Ivan said.
Ryaan turned his head slightly. "Then you're a fool. Criminals feel no pain. It's better to kill them."
"Killing someone is a burden for your whole life."
"That's all lies." Ryaan's voice cracked, not with weakness but with something heavier anger, pain, something he couldn't hide even if he tried. "Look at me. I feel burdened every single day. Why didn't I kill my father to stop my mom from dying? If I had killed him, my mom would still be alive!"
Ivan's breath caught. He had never heard anyone speak like that. "You want to kill your father? Doesn't it hurt you?"
"It's better than the nightmares I see every night," Ryaan replied, his voice lower, heavier. "Do you know what it's like? Watching your mom beg for her life… while you're hidden behind wood, too small, too scared, unable to do anything? That helplessness… it's worse. Worse than anything. Worse than being a killer. Worse than killing your father."
He swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the school ground ahead but not really seeing it.
"It hurts… when you see criminals living happily while your whole world has already ended," he continued. "It hurts when you realize you'll never laugh again because someone stole your happiness."
Ryaan's voice didn't shake. It was steady, disturbingly steady, as if he had practiced these thoughts every day inside his own head. His logic was sharp, cruel, and painfully clear. The kind of clarity that broke people.
Ivan felt something shift inside him. Ryaan's words slipped into his mind and clung there, refusing to leave. They echoed again and again, louder each time just like they had from the first day they met.
They stood at the school gate, but it felt like they were standing at the edge of something far darker.
Two boys, two shadows, and too many truths hanging between them.