"Madam! Madam!"
Maya's voice cracked through the noise of the bustling market. She shoved past baskets of spices and bleating goats, her bare feet slapping against the sun‑baked stones.
Leena spun around, her silk veil fluttering in the hot breeze.
"What is it, Maya?"
"The beggar woman—the one you always feed—she… s‑she's giving birth! In the street!"
Leena's heart lurched.
"Take me to her!"
The market swirled with chaos: merchants shouting, incense mixing with dust, curious eyes watching.
And there, half‑collapsed against a shop wall, lay the woman—sweat dripping down her temple, her swollen belly heaving.
The crowd whispered in disgust.
"She's cursed…"
"Filthy low‑caste woman."
"Don't touch her, or the gods will punish you!"
Leena knelt without hesitation. Her silk skirt brushed the dirt as she pressed a reassuring hand to the woman's shoulder.
"You're safe now."
From her small wooden box, she pulled alcohol, cloth, and herbs. Her delicate fingers moved fast, ignoring the blood smearing her silk sleeves.
Minutes felt like hours.
Then—
A newborn's cry pierced the heavy air.
Leena wrapped the baby in her own scarf and placed it gently on the mother's chest.
Gasps rippled through the crowd—shock, disapproval… and awe.
Suddenly, a rough hand yanked her arm.
"What have you done, Leena!"
Ram Sharan's face loomed over hers, rage twisting his features.
"You've shamed your family! You touched filth, and you expect me to marry you?"
Leena tore her arm free, fire in her eyes.
"Do not touch me. I will never marry a man like you!"
His lips curled into a cold smile.
"You can try to run, but I will always find you. You belong to me."
Behind him, the beggar woman's voice trembled like a dying whisper:
"They… they will kill her for this…"
And at that moment, Leena realized—saving a life might have just cost her own.