Five Years Later I Quietly Returned Home and Saw Where My Wife and Child Were Living — and My Mother Smiled

That night, when I heard the hoarse voice of a child from hunger from my own house, I was still holding a bag full of gifts in my hand.

I spent five years on construction sites in Saudi Arabia. During the day, the sun burned my skin, metal scratched my palms, and diesel dust filled my lungs. At night I lay in the narrow room of the workers and repeated the same thing: Elena, Julian, home.

Every month I sent eight thousand dollars to my mother, Evelyn.

“Mother, do not deprive Elena of anything,” I used to tell her. “Let Julian have everything he needs.”

“Calm down, Nikoloz,” she answered me in a sweet voice. “You work, I will take care of the family.”

Whenever I asked to speak with Elena, she always had a reason.

“She is sleeping now.”

“She is shopping.”

“She went to the salon.”

And I believed her. Because believing another choice was too painful.

The contract ended unexpectedly two months early. I told no one. From the airport I went straight into a jewelry store and bought a gold bracelet for Elena. For Julian I packed toy cars, colored pencils, and chocolates. A small copper compass was attached to the handle of the suitcase; on its back I had engraved Julian’s date of birth with my own hand. Whenever I missed him, I touched that date with my fingers.

In the evening I arrived at the mansion. The windows were lit, and the music shook the glass as if not a celebration but a victory were being marked in the house. Inside, my mother and my sister, Victoria, were giving champagne to foreign guests. Meat, fruit, and cakes were arranged on the tables.

Mother was laughing.

At my money.

I went toward the back yard. Beyond the garage the light ended. There was the smell of wet earth. Then I heard a child’s voice.

“Mother… my stomach hurts.”

I froze.

It was Julian.

“Quiet, my life,” Elena answered in a whisper. “Grandmother must not find out.”

I went to the window of the old storage room. Through the dirty glass I saw Elena. She was so thin that her clothes slipped from her shoulders. Julian held a dry piece of bread in his hands, which he was washing with water from the outside tap.

The suitcase fell from my hand.

“Mother, is she going to lock the door again today?” Julian asked.

Elena lowered her head.

“Do not think about it. Father will come soon.”

Father.

And for five years I had been sending money that was supposed to create a life for my family.

I took my phone from my pocket and turned on the camera. At first I wanted to call the police, but then I heard Victoria’s voice from inside.

“Mother, the guests will leave soon. Then lock the storage-room door again.”

“Of course,” Evelyn answered. “And in the morning I will write to Nikoloz that Elena has depression and spends money uselessly.”

My blood froze.

I brought the phone closer to the window. Just then a key turned in the storage-room lock. The door opened. My mother reached inside and placed an old folder in front of Elena.

“Sign it, or tonight I will leave Julian alone,” she told her.

Elena’s trembling hand moved toward the folder, and I took a step toward the door. The small metal head of the compass touched my shoe and rang sharply. Everyone heard it.

Evelyn slowly turned around, and I was already clutching the handle…

I opened the door all the way and saw fear on my mother’s face for the first time.

“Nikoloz?” Victoria’s glass fell from her hand.

Elena leaned against the wall. And Julian ran toward me and hugged me as if he had been waiting not five years, but his whole life.

“Father, did you really come?”

I knelt down.

“I am here, my son. No one will lock you up anymore.”

Evelyn quickly picked up the folder.

“This is all a misunderstanding. Elena is ill, and you are tired.”

“Then why are they living here?”

“Temporarily.”

“Is five years temporary?”

Victoria ran toward the door, but I stood in her way. I raised the phone.

“Your conversation was recorded.”

Mother’s face changed.

“Delete it.”

“First tell me what you were making her sign.”

Elena looked at the folder and bit her lips.

“Nikoloz, do not sign anything,” she told me quietly.

The sound of car brakes came from outside. Someone was coming urgently. For the first time Evelyn stopped shouting and smiled.

“You still do not know whom you are standing against, my son.”

There was heavy knocking on the door. Then an unknown man called out:

“Nikoloz, open the door. We need to talk to you…”

They knocked on the door again. This time I heard the voice clearly.

“I am David Meladze, the family lawyer. If you are inside, come out immediately.”

Evelyn breathed out with relief.

“You see? Everything is legal.”

“Was it legal too that you locked my wife and child in the storage room?” I asked.

“Elena chose to be there of her own will.”

Tears ran down Elena’s face.

“It is a lie.”

David forced the door open. He held a leather bag in his hand, and a ring shone on his finger as if he had come here not to help the family, but to finish a deal.

“Nikoloz, your mother has custody documents, financial powers of attorney, and a statement signed by Elena that you had not contacted the family for five years.”

“That signature was obtained by force,” Elena said.

David opened the folder.

“The court will decide that.”

I put the phone on the table and turned on the recording. Victoria’s voice sounded in the room: “I will write to Nikoloz that Elena has depression,” and then Evelyn’s calm answer: “Lock the storage-room door again in the morning.”

Everyone fell silent.

David lost color.

“This is an illegal recording,” he said with difficulty.

“Maybe,” I answered, “but everything in my bank is written legally.”

At that very moment I received a bank notification. Almost half a million dollars had been transferred from my account to one company on the same day. When Elena saw the company’s name, she covered her mouth with her hand.

“This is Victoria’s company,” she said.

Victoria stepped back.

“It was only a technical account.”

“Then why was our house’s money transferred to you?” I asked.

David closed the bag.

“I am ending this conversation here.”

“You cannot end it,” I told him. “Because now I will show the document my mother could not destroy.”

I took an envelope from the inner pocket of the suitcase. I had carried it with me for five years and thought that someday I would need it only to protect myself. On the envelope it said: “Elena’s medical examination, do not destroy.”

Evelyn moved toward the envelope.

“Nikoloz, do not open it.”

But I put my finger on the seal and began to open it…