Her father's voice trembled with a quiet sadness.
"Thank goodness we were not born ignorant like them,"
He said, his eyes glistening. "And I am proud of you, my daughter… you are my support."
Amraha lowered her gaze with a faint smile, feeling the warmth of his words. After a moment, she softly asked his permission to visit the child in the hospital. Her father's lips curved into a gentle smile, and with a small nod, he said,
"Go."
Amraha's face carried a deep, serene smile—a quiet reflection of the kindness rooted in her heart. Then she the office....
The car slowed to a stop in front of the hospital gates. The driver stepped out, opening the door for her.With graceful ease, Amraha emerged from the luxury vehicle, her white heeled sandals touching the ground softly. She was dressed in a crisp white coat and matching trousers, her appearance almost regal—like a princess stepping into the mortal world.
She walked through the hospital entrance, the faint scent of antiseptic in the air, and made her way toward the children's ward. Her footsteps were measured and calm, but as she approached the corridor, something shifted. Her smile faded, replaced by a cautious stillness.
Loud, harsh voices cut through the hallway—men speaking with aggression, their tones laced with threat. Amraha slowed her pace, her senses sharpening, listening carefully to catch their words.
"If you don't do what we say," one man's voice growled, "your son will meet the same fate as your husband."
"You'll get your money," another added coldly. "From tomorrow, you start working for us."
A trembling female voice responded,
"But… my child isn't well. The doctors aren't listening—once he's better, I'll come."
"That's not our problem," the man snapped. "Do as you're told. And this time—no excuses, no delays, and the money stays the same. No less."
Before the woman could respond about the money, her eyes caught sight of Amraha approaching. Instantly, she fell silent, shrinking back into herself.
From the woman's pale, fearful expression, Amraha understood. Arguing with these men now—or even confronting them—would only make the situation worse. The woman was terrified, and men like these would exploit that fear to push her further into danger. At this moment, the wisest choice was to let them leave without provocation.
Amraha kept her face composed, her stride steady as she walked past them down the corridor. She could feel their eyes flick toward her but gave them nothing—no words, no reaction.
Perhaps sensing they would gain nothing from this encounter, the men fell silent. Moments later, they turned and walked away, leaving without saying another word to the woman.
"How is the child's condition now?"
Amraha asked directly, skipping any small talk. She had already sensed that this woman was in no state to answer unnecessary questions—and perhaps, at this moment, could not answer them at all.
"Uh… Aaaa.....th.....the… the doctor isn't saying anything,"
The woman murmured, her voice trembling. She struggled to meet Amraha's gaze, her eyes darting away in discomfort.
Amraha noticed it at once—the woman kept averting her gaze, her words short and lifeless. Amraha understood that when someone hesitates to speak, pressing them only drives them further into silence. And when the truth is wrapped in a veil of lies, peeling it back serves no purpose. Perhaps the woman still didn't know whether my intentions were good or bad, and at this moment, any explanation would be meaningless.
On the sitting bench nearby, the woman's trembling hands rested in her lap, her face bowed low. Her shoulders were slightly hunched, shivering faintly—signs clear enough to tell that she was truly caught in some deep trouble..
.
"Doctor! Doctor!"
Amraha called, her voice steady but urgent.
Within moments, a young doctor appeared in the corridor, hurrying toward her.
"Yes, ma'am?"
he asked, slightly out of breath.
"How is the child's condition now?"
The boy's condition had improved, but due to the severe blood loss, he still hadn't regained consciousness. The wound on his head wasn't deep, but his arm was fractured. Other than that, there were no serious injuries or deep cuts.
"The child needs proper medicine so he can recover faster,"
Amraha instructed the doctor in a firm, straightforward tone. "Until his arm heals completely, his safety will be your responsibility and He stays here.".....
The doctor nodded in agreement, his expression assuring her that he would follow her instructions exactly. After a brief moment, he left the corridor.
The woman turned to Amraha, gratitude overflowing in her eyes.
"Thank you… you've given my son his life back. I am deeply indebted to you. My prayers will always be for your success."...
Amraha's voice softened, though her words carried weight. "Helping was my duty. But whether you choose to remain in this situation is your own decision."
Her tone grew serious, and the woman froze, staring at her in silence. Whether she understood Amraha's meaning or not, only she knew.
"The men who attacked your son," Amraha continued, stepping toward the seating area before lowering herself into a chair, "you still won't speak against them, will you? I saw the marks on your boy's body—signs that someone has beaten him before. And now, those same men came here to threaten you. Why aren't you taking action against them?"
The woman's eyes filled, and she collapsed to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.
"What can I do?" she choked out. "They will kill my son… they already killed my husband."....
The corridor around them was empty, silent—only these two women existed in that moment. Amraha's expression hardened at her words.
"Who are these people? And this—this lawlessness—they can't just get away with it. This is wrong."
"They don't believe in what's right," the woman wept. "They have their own rules. They've made life hell for the people of our village. They demand money, and if someone refuses, they kill a member of the family. Some have even taken poison because they couldn't pay. They humiliate the women… we can't do anything—we are helpless."
Amraha stayed silent for a moment, absorbing the weight of her words, before finally speaking.
"You're not helpless—you're just afraid. They've scared you so much that you've forgotten how to fight for yourselves. If you had gone to the police, things wouldn't be this way."...
"The police listen to them," the woman replied bitterly.
"No one dares to speak against them."
"Then that means their power lies in their system," Amraha said, her voice calm but resolute. "Still… I can help you. But for that, you—and your entire village—will have to testify against them. You will have to stand your ground. The rest… leave to me. I'll handle it."
The woman startles at Amraha's words, staring at her in shock. Before her stands a girl of rare beauty—broad, expressive eyes, smiling yet commanding, dressed in white as though she has descended like an angel, her long hair cascading over her shoulders. To the woman, Amraha looks nothing less than a heavenly being.
For a moment, the woman stiffens and straightens, then speaks, her voice trembling.
"They are dangerous people. They can harm you, kill you—do anything."
Amraha smiles faintly, almost mocking her fear, and replies with unshaken confidence, "They cannot harm me." Her voice carries authority, sharp and unyielding. "Go to the village. Speak to them. Ask if they are willing to stand with you. If they agree, I will set you all free."
The woman lowers her gaze, her hands clasped tightly, as though lost in a storm of thoughts. When she speaks again, her tone is heavy with despair.
"Child, I have no one in that village but my son. He moves among those men. If I try to convince or save anyone, I know they will not believe me. I have no proof, no details to give. And if I am caught, they will kill me. My son will be left alone, and I do not want to die. Even the slightest suspicion from them will cost me my life. But if you can save me and my son, I will be forever grateful. I will stand as a witness for you in court. But I cannot go back there—nor do I want to."
Amraha listens, the meaning sinking into her mind. If this woman refuses to return to the village, then I have to must provide her a place to stay and take responsibility of her safety. It is a dangerous thought—where will I keep a stranger? And will protecting her bring even greater troubles upon myself?
"All right," Amraha says at last, lifting her arm in a questioning gesture. "If you won't return, then where will you stay with your son?"
The woman's eyes glisten with helplessness. "I don't know. But I am beginning to trust you. If you are helping me, then please… help me with this as well."
Amraha exhales, realization dawning. I was right—helping her will weigh heavily on me. Father warned me, and grandmother… God knows how she will react when she finds out.