She stirred in his arms as he took another step.
“Please… don’t let them laugh…” she whispered weakly, her voice trembling more from humiliation than pain.
He looked down at her, mud streaked across his face, eyes burning with exhaustion — and something stronger.
“I don’t care about them,” he said quietly but firmly. “I’ve got you. Just hold on.”
Behind them, the laughter began to fade.
One of the young men shifted uncomfortably.
“Hey… wait… is she okay?” he asked, his tone no longer mocking.
The doors slid open with a soft mechanical sound. Warm light spilled onto the muddy pavement.
For the first time since the flood, he felt something other than fear.
Hope.
