It was 2 a.m. on a moonlit highway, the kind of lonely stretch where the world feels paused. My wife, Amrita, and I were driving home from a small gathering when our old sedan sputtered and died. No cell service. No passing cars. Just the quiet hum of the night.
After an hour of waiting, headlights appeared over the hill. A battered Toyota Corolla pulled over. A young man stepped out, early twenties, calm and kind. “Need a lift?” he asked.
We offered money, but he refused. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’m just glad I came by.”
As we drove to the nearest town, he shared his story. Zayd Nouri tutored foster children at Bright Steps Learning Center, helping kids catch up in school. “It’s not much,” he shrugged, “but if I can help one child believe in themselves, it’s worth it.” At the diner, he waved goodbye, disappearing into the night.
Years passed. Life moved on. Then one afternoon, Amrita called me: “Turn on the TV.”
There he was—Zayd Nouri, once a struggling foster child, now a Harvard graduate and newly elected mayor. Pride swelled… then guilt. Weeks after that night, I had filed a routine zoning complaint that shut down Bright Steps Learning Center. Could my paperwork have disrupted his path?
Zayd’s first public address gave me chills:
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