~Episode 11~
It makes no sense. Ivan repeated that sentence inside his mind again and again, even though he already knew it wouldn't change anything. He inhaled slowly, trying to steady his breath. "I know it hurts… but committing a crime?" he said softly, almost unsure of the words coming out of his mouth.
Ivan narrowed his eyes. His hand was getting cold, and the small cut covered with a handkerchief kept stinging every time he moved his fingers. The pain was sharp, uncomfortable, but he ignored it the way he always ignored small things that hurt him. His hands were shaking a little, but he kept them still on his knees.
"Ivan, you're too kind-hearted," Ryaan said, looking at him with a strange mixture of frustration and understanding. "Imagine how you'd feel if a criminal didn't realize his crime."
Ryaan's question wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. But it was something deeper than anything he had asked before. It touched something Ivan faced every single day of his life from morning to night, from school to the quiet evenings at home where nothing felt peaceful.
There was a long, heavy pause. Ivan swallowed the dryness in his throat. The silence between them felt heavy, like a pressure building up in his chest. Finally, he dared to speak the truth he usually kept buried inside.
"My dad died because of my mother," Ivan said, his voice shaking just a little. "When I came home from school, she was lying on the sofa watching TV… laughing." He blinked slowly, remembering the moment too clearly. "It sucks that I couldn't do anything except watch her enjoy her life."
Ryaan didn't interrupt. He just stared at him with tightened eyes.
"She's going to marry that man… the one connected to my father's death," Ivan continued. His tone became flat, like the words had been repeated in his head a thousand times. "She really didn't care."
"And trust me… she never will," Ryaan said quietly.
Ivan nodded once. His lips pressed into a thin line. "That doesn't mean I'd kill my mom. I lost my father. I can't lose her too."
"After all, she snatched your dad from you?" Ryaan asked, his voice low, almost provoking.
"Whatever… I can't," Ivan answered, shaking his head.
"That's a sign of weakness," Ryaan told him without hesitation.
"Well," Ivan sighed, "I won't deny it."
Ryaan exhaled sharply. "I would kill my father for his sins."
Ivan glanced at him. "Best of luck."
Ryaan leaned back, irritated. "Dude, you're nothing like me. You forgive your mom for her sins."
Ivan looked down at his hands again, the handkerchief wrapped around his cut. "She doesn't deserve happiness," he admitted in a calm voice. "I agree—I want her to suffer behind bars. But killing isn't an option for me."
He lifted his head and looked straight at Ryaan. His expression wasn't hard or angry. It was tired, honest, and painfully simple.
"I will never kill someone."
The air around them grew quiet again. Nothing dramatic happened no screaming, no arguing. Just two boys sitting together, carrying different kinds of pain. Ivan held onto his belief tightly, even though everything inside him was cracked. Ryaan, on the other hand, struggled to understand how someone who suffered so much could still choose restraint.
Ivan kept his eyes lowered, feeling the cold sting in his injured hand and the heavier ache inside his chest, but his voice stayed steady. His words were final, the kind that didn't need to be repeated.
He meant every single one of them.