I still remember the night they took him away. The rope around Rajendra’s neck, the crowd’s silence, my father holding me back as I screamed his name. Mother Amba stood there—my mother-in-law—her eyes dry, her voice steady as she sealed his fate in court. She called it justice. I call it betrayal.

Now, standing before the ashes of their haveli, I feel no remorse. My brother Kunwar pours kerosene on what’s left of their pride. My father watches with cold satisfaction. And Suraj—innocent or not—will hang just like his brother. This isn’t cruelty. This is balance.

But tonight, as the flames rise, I see her. Amba. Standing at the edge of the field, wrapped in a thin shawl, staring at the ruin of her life. She doesn’t cry. She doesn’t run. She just looks at me.

And for the first time, I wonder—did I become the monster she always said Rajendra was?

The choice is mine: walk away and let the past burn… or step forward and make her suffer like I did.