"She might try to bait you, and there's a chance that the meeting is recorded. Don't let her get to you," Arjun cautioned, steering the car to the right. The streetlights and the headlights of passing cars created a mosaic of flickering lights akin to a festival, but Madhuri's mind remained enshrouded in ignorance and uncertainty.

The clear night sky, with countless stars dotting its expanse, would have once captivated a younger Madhuri, but the woman sitting in the car, embarking on a journey she wouldn't have dared to undertake in the past, was lost in a maelstrom of clashing thoughts.

"Listen, but don't accept whatever she says. That woman is out of her mind, and she can't see sense even if it is standing in front of like the Taj Mahal," said Arjun, with a huff of exasperation.

Arjun angled his head towards his client when he elicited no response. Madhuri looked through the glass with her elbow resting on the handrest and her fingers supporting her chin.

"Madhuri."

The change into a deeper tone pulled her out of her reverie and she darted her eyes towards her attorney like a deer caught in headlights. "I-I am sorry... sorry, sir."

Arjun trained his eyes back to the road. "Like I told you before, Madhuri, you don't have to apologize. It's an unfathomable situation with quite high stakes, and I understand you're feeling overwhelmed. Take a breath! We got this!"

Madhuri closed her eyes and inhaled slowly through her parted lips, struggling to maintain her composure. It had been almost a year since she had been in a room alone with her mother-in-law. Their last few encounters had left emotional wounds that had only recently begun to heal. She wondered if this meeting would rip those wounds open again, leaving her heart bleeding for compassion.

______________________________________________

Madhuri stood at the door, rooted to the ground, and unable to take a step towards the bed where her mother-in-law lied with an IV drip connected to her. Madhuri clutched the free edges of her tunic and fixed her gaze on Jaya despite her throat going dry in trepidation.

"Madhuri, my child. Come, sit down," she said, pointing at the stool beside the bed with trembling fingers. Madhuri could not shrug away the grip of dread around her heart.

In the years of knowing the older woman, the only time she had asked her to take a seat was when she had visited her home for the first time as her son's prospective bride. Madhuri had failed to understand how the tide had turned for her to revert to that self.

"I know, my child. I never left a chance to mistreat you, but I didn't think I filled you with so much mistrust that you cannot even accept the seat beside me," said Jaya in a hoarse whisper with a scoff.

"Why... why did you call me here?" asked Madhuri, peering at the woman through narrowed eyes. A sardonic twist contorted Jaya's lip. "My brush with death reminded me that the day of my judgement is not too far away, and I want to make peace with you before it is too late."

Madhuri's eyebrows remained angled towards each other, and her lips were set in a thin line. "I was once like you. Timid, sensitive, and kind. But time teaches hard lessons to those who wear their hearts on their sleeves," said the old woman.

Her eyes had turned distant and moist. "Your father-in-law - you never met him, of course - had killed his first wife when he learned she could not bear a child. She was my cousin. My Sharmila Didi."

Her voice quivered, and the shock forced Madhuri's legs to tremble. Madhuri slumped onto the stool, trying to wrap her head around the bomb Jaya had dropped on her. Her father-in-law - a murderer?

"They married me off to him to settle a debt. I lived in constant fear of him until Sameer was born. I was only seventeen then. When he died, I felt guilty but relieved. However, I soon realized that society's judgment of a single mother was harsh. Every fault of Sameer was blamed on me. The fear returned, and it molded me into a person I despised."

A wry chuckle escaped Jaya's chapped lips as a lone tear escaped the corner of her eyes. Madhuri's compassion and complaints fought a fierce battle in her heart and left her mind in great turbulence. Was it a ploy like her attorney had warned her off, or was the woman attempting to reach out to her out of repentance?

"When I saw you, I pitied you and hated how the world would tear you down. But what I had not realized and accepted was that I would be a part of the world that would destroy you to avoid fingers pointed at me. Back in my mind, I knew I would sacrifice your innocence at the altar of my peace, and I was okay with it till I almost died."

More tears flowed from Jaya's eyes with no restraint. "And then I wondered. What if you rejoice at my death like I rejoiced at the death of my husband? I didn't want to die like that. I didn't want to be remembered like a villain who devastated your life, and hence the olive branch."

Would she celebrate the passing of Jaya Shukla, or would she offer her prayers for the eternal peace of her soul? And despite her reservations to admit it out loud, Madhuri knew she would hope the woman went to hell for tormenting her.

Her head throbbed with an ache that made her head spin. As the older woman lay awaiting her reply, Madhuri was torn between options she had not prepared for on her way to the hospital. She found herself at a crossroads she had never anticipated.

Strange how victims of a mentality can perpetuate and victimize others! Do they deserve our pity? Maybe. Do they deserve punishment? Like every other criminal. Because it may not be our fault, but it is our responsibility to break the cycle.