ARVIND slowly got out of the car and inhaled the fresh air. He lifted his head a little so the morning sun kissed his face with its gentle warmth, and his mind exulted.

“I am home.”

He had migrated to the US at 14 with his family, which wasn’t something he was happy about, but he was a young boy with a bright future, and he had to comply with his parents’ decision.

“I’ll come back one day, though,” he had said to the coconut trees he often climbed, the neighbour’s cats he frequently bought special treats for, and the dogs he sometimes took for walks. But the one he was concerned about leaving was the neighbour’s wife.

She lived next door in one of the most beautiful houses in the neighbourhood, a young woman married to an older man who was obsessive and abusive. She was not allowed to speak to anyone and was forced to stay in the house. Any time she had to go somewhere, a driver took her and brought her back home. The only place he saw her outside of the house was in the flower garden, and looking at her, so young and beautiful, he had felt a sense of pity. No one should have to live such a life, like the broken wings of a butterfly.

Some nights, whilst up late studying, he would hear her screams and the man’s deep, angry voice, and he had asked his mother and father, “Why doesn’t someone help her?”

His father, who was a mild-mannered, easy-going person, had answered, “That man is rich, powerful and aggressive, and I’m sure he’s a licensed firearm holder, so no one would want to cross his path.”

“But he is abusing her; doesn’t she have a family?”

“Apparently, from what I heard,” his father told him, “the family owes the man a lot of money due to a bad business deal with the father and son.”

“So she’s trapped to pay off the family’s debt,” Arvind had surmised like the broken wings of a butterfly.

He had wished he could have done something to help her, but if adults were afraid to do so, what could he, as a young boy, do?

The following year, he had migrated with his family, hoping that somehow, she could find a way to free herself. He had never spoken to her, and she never saw him—the boy next door who was concerned for her. For all the years he had spent in a foreign land, she stayed at the back of his mind: a stranger, an older woman whose plight had affected him as a young man.

He returned home fourteen years later, now a grown young man with excited hopes and plans to invest in the country he loved. As his uncle and aunt, who were staying at the family home, welcomed him, he looked across to the beautiful house, but it stood there wrapped in silence and creeping shadows.

“Did the neighbours move out?” he asked his uncle.

“Yes, about six years ago. The house is up for sale, but no one wants to buy it.”

“Why?”

“Something terrible happened one night, with gunshots and screams. The police came, and there was an investigation for a week; then, after that, nothing was spoken of the incident. No reports, nor any news of what happened there that night.”

A shiver of fear pulsed through Arvind’s body, and he asked the dreadful question, “Did the man kill his wife?”

“No,” his uncle answered. “Someone he had a bad business deal with killed him, but she was spared.”

Deep relief filled his heart, and he expressed quietly, “Thank God she wasn’t harmed. She was trapped in that abusive relationship, and a tragedy set her free.”

In his old room that night, he heard her screams no more—just a haunting silence—and the next morning, he did not see her in the garden, now overgrown with shrubs and thick grass.

“A beautiful house that could have been her dream,” he mused, “but was instead a nightmare.”

He sighed with a smile, happy she was free, probably now in her forties, and though he was more than 10 years younger, he was still concerned for her.

“I wonder where she is and how she’s doing,” he said to himself.

Those questions stayed quiet in his mind, unanswered, as he focused on his business initiatives, securing a bank loan and laying the groundwork. He was a new face and business name in machinery and construction projects, a young man with degrees in engineering and economics, passionate and enthusiastic about succeeding.

He knew his success would contribute to the development of the country, to building his dream home, and to helping the less fortunate. He was commended by his family and all those who knew him for his great plans and ambition.

Three years later, his business had been established, and the foundation of his home had begun to be built with a bank loan.

Now, he could focus on establishing a charity drive, and he decided to start at a children’s home. Children are the future and, in his view, once given the assistance and opportunity, they can achieve their set goals in life.

The children’s home manager took him on a tour of the facilities, and he noted the improvements that needed to be done: dietary and medical supplies, tools for learning, and more reading materials for the library. He was given a brief introduction to the teachers in their classrooms, with a formal meeting to follow at a later date.

In the last class, which overlooked a flower garden, the teacher at her desk, marking papers, looked up as the manager entered the classroom, and Arvind’s heart did a double-take.

He recognised her!

She was his neighbour’s wife.

To be continued…