It was a quiet Sunday morning, and with our half-yearly exams looming the next day, I went to our tuition class as usual. Our tutor, who had always shared a close bond with us, had given us the key to the center since he needed to step out for a while. There were just four of us there that day—three boys and one girl.

At some point, I noticed that one of my friends had said something unkind to the girl, and she immediately left the room, visibly upset. Concerned, I followed her into the next room where she had gone to be alone. The room was dim, with all the lights turned off. She sat quietly on the bench, tears in her eyes, while I took a seat on the desk across from her, trying to console her with only good intentions in mind.

As I spoke softly, hoping to comfort her, something unexpected happened. Out of nowhere, her mother appeared in the doorway. She said nothing to me, but turned to her daughter and gently told her, "Come on, let's go home."

I felt uneasy but didn’t think too much of it at the moment. A few minutes later, another boy came rushing in with a concerned look on his face. "Bro, what did you do? Her mom slapped her 4-5 times outside the tuition center," he said.

A sinking feeling settled over me. Despite my good intentions, things had gone terribly wrong.