You weren’t supposed to, Leona whispered. But right now, all that matters is getting you safe. Her knees wobbled, arms screaming with exhaustion, but she clutched the woman tighter.
Around them, the city seemed to blur, faces blotted into shadows. There was only the burning weight in her arms and the fragile heartbeat beneath her hand. Please, the wife gasped suddenly, her hand gripping Leona’s wrist.
Something’s wrong. I feel pressure, too much pressure. Leona froze mid-step, panic clawing up her throat.
But she swallowed it, her voice steady as steel, listen to me. Look in my eyes, you are not breaking here, not now, I can’t. You can, you must, for the baby, for yourself.
The woman trembled, her breath shallow. Why are you fighting so hard for me? Leona’s voice cracked, because no one else will. The crowd parted slowly as Maid Leona pressed forward, every step a war.
Strangers whispered, phones lifted, but no one dared step closer. Some looked horrified, others awed. The sight was too strange, too powerful.
This young black maid carrying a trembling, wealthy woman in purple, sweat soaking her uniform, yet eyes burning with defiance. The woman clung tighter, her pride crumbling. Don’t let me go, she whispered, voice like a child’s plea.
Never, Leona vowed, not while I have breath. Her body felt close to breaking, but her spirit refused. The street stretched endlessly, her arms numb, yet she carried on.
Not because of duty, not because of pay, but because in that moment, under the weight of another’s life, she discovered her own strength. Leona’s legs nearly buckled as she turned the corner and spotted the glowing red sign of the small clinic. Relief shot through her body, almost making her collapse right there…
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