Sarika grips Saro’s hand tightly, pulling it behind her with sudden force. Saro winces in pain, her arm twisted awkwardly. The moment is tense and confusing — not out of anger, but perhaps desperation or urgency. Saro doesn’t resist, but the strain shows in her eyes.
Near them, the baby stirs. Tiny limbs twitch, a soft struggle as it tries to move. It’s a weak, slow effort — but it’s effort nonetheless. The baby is trying to lift its head, to shift its body, to respond to the motion and emotion around it. The little one senses something isn’t right.
Sarika’s actions aren’t entirely clear. Is she trying to protect? To stop? There’s no shouting, only a quiet intensity. Saro remains still, her hand pinned uncomfortably behind her, her focus torn between the pain and the baby.
The baby’s face is tight with concentration. It pushes slightly with its legs, its arms flailing gently, trying to react to the tension around it. Though small and weak, it is aware — and trying. Each movement is slow, uncertain, as if the baby is feeling the weight of something bigger than itself.
