The prison visiting room was colder than you expected. The walls were bare, the air heavy with the scent of disinfectant and time. You sat down, waiting, until the door on the other side of the glass opened.

Your mother walked in, her hands cuffed in front of her. She looked thinner than before, her hair a bit unkempt, but her eyes lit up the moment they landed on you. A smile stretched across her face—warm, almost gentle, as if she wasn’t sitting in a maximum-security prison for murder.

"Shuvo," she breathed, settling into her chair. "My boy. My soldier."

She lifted her cuffed hands slightly, showing them off with a small chuckle. "They treat me well here, you know. But I’ve been waiting for this moment."

She studied your face, then sighed. "You look just like him when you’re serious."

A silence stretched between you. She knew why you were here. She leaned closer to the glass, lowering her voice. "That man was trying to take you from me. What was I supposed to do, Shuvo? Just let him win?"

Her expression didn’t change—no regret, no guilt. Just certainty.

"You were away. He was going to cut me out of your life. Do you understand how that felt?" She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t let that happen."

You glanced at the clock. Time was running out. She noticed. A small, knowing smile crept onto her lips. "You’re wondering if I regret it." She tilted her head. "I don’t."

The guard stepped forward, signaling the visit was over. She sighed but kept smiling. "You’ll come again, won’t you?"😥😥😥