"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.

The air in the Das family hall was thick with incense… and judgment.

Vikram Das sat rigid on the carved wooden chair, his jaw tight, while the family priest paced back and forth.

"She must be purified," the priest snapped. "This girl has defied the gods for years—touching the untouchable, feeding the cursed! The council is already speaking. If you do nothing, they will act."

Leena's fists trembled at her sides.
"I saved a life. That is no sin!"

The priest's eyes turned cold.
"She will drink the poison of trial… or be cast into the holy Ganges. If she survives, the heavens have spoken. If she dies…"

He let the words hang like a blade over her head.

From the corner of the room, Ram Sharan's voice slithered like a snake.
"Marry her to me. I will take care of this… disgrace."

Leena's blood boiled.
"I would rather die in the Ganges than be your wife!"

The priest gasped, scandalized.

The hall fell silent. Only the faint crackle of oil lamps filled the space.

That night, her father called her into his study. The warm glow of the single lamp flickered over his tired face.

"I cannot protect you if you stay," he whispered. His hand trembled as it rested on her shoulder.
"They will kill you, Leena."

Her chest tightened, but she didn't cry.

"I have a friend in the Tang dynasty," he continued. "A merchant who owes me his life. You will go to him. Leave tonight—before anyone notices."

Leena stared at the flame of the lamp.

Exile… or death.

She clenched her fists, heart pounding.

If this was the only path to survive… she would take it.

But somewhere deep inside, she knew that leaving tonight meant leaving her world behind… forever.