Night swallowed the streets, the wind sharp and cold against Elena's skin as she walked with no direction—just one thought repeating in her mind:
I can't go back. I have to protect my baby.
Her steps were shaky, her vision blurry from tears and exhaustion. The city lights blurred, and each breath felt like it scraped her chest.
Then—
A blinding headlight. A horn. A screech.
A car swerved too late.
Elena gasped, froze—
The shock hit her harder than the bumper.
Her knees gave out.
Everything went black.
---
The car door slammed open.
"God… no, no, no," a male voice panicked—deep, aged, trembling.
An older man in his late fifties rushed to her side, hands shaking. He knelt beside her, touching her neck, terrified.
"Pulse… it's there. She's breathing," he whispered to himself, relief and fear mixing. "What have I done?"
He lifted her carefully, carrying her limp body to his car and speeding off, eyes wide, murmuring prayers.
