The courtroom was so quiet you could hear the faint hum of the ceiling fans. Reporters lined the back rows, pens ready, faces expectant. The man in the orange jumpsuit stood motionless, his wrists chained, eyes dark with exhaustion.

Across from him, the judge adjusted his glasses and read aloud in a voice that carried both authority and fatigue.

“The court has reached its verdict. You are found guilty of second-degree murder and sentenced to life imprisonment.”

A murmur rippled through the room. The man didn’t flinch. He simply lowered his head. His name was Ethan Carter — thirty-six years old, once a carpenter, now branded a murderer.

The judge looked down again at the papers before him, then up at Ethan.

“Does the defendant wish to make a final statement?”

Ethan swallowed hard. His throat was dry, his voice barely audible.

“Your Honor… I have just one request.”

The courtroom stilled again.

“I’d like to see my son. He was born after I was imprisoned. I’ve never held him. Not even once.”

For a brief moment, something softened in the judge’s eyes. He exchanged a glance with the bailiff. A small nod followed.

The Request

Minutes later, the heavy wooden doors opened.
A woman entered — Lena, Ethan’s wife. Her face was pale, eyes rimmed red from sleepless nights. In her arms, she cradled a small bundle wrapped in a blue blanket.

Every step she took toward Ethan seemed to weigh a thousand pounds.

The guards hesitated but, at the judge’s signal, unlocked Ethan’s cuffs. The metallic clink echoed like a heartbeat in the silent room.

Ethan’s hands trembled as he reached out.
He looked at the tiny face nestled against the soft blanket — his son.

For years, prison had stripped Ethan of every human feeling — hope, laughter, tenderness. But at that moment, as he held his child, something deep inside him cracked open.

Tears — real, raw, unstoppable — streamed down his face.

“He’s beautiful,” Ethan whispered, his voice breaking.
“Forgive me… forgive me, little one…”

The courtroom was frozen in stillness. The jury, the guards, even the reporters — all were silent witnesses to the raw, human moment unfolding before them.

You could hear the faint sound of the baby breathing, the soft rustle of the blanket.

Then, suddenly, something shifted in Ethan’s eyes.

He looked up, straight at the judge.