The sun beat down mercilessly as Alina finally reached Northbridge General Hospital, pushing a battered wheelbarrow with a single rusted wheel squeaking with every wobble. Dust clung to her hair, her cheeks, her scraped, torn feet. Inside the wheelbarrow lay her newborn twin brothers, pale and barely breathing. Every step could mean life—or death.
Alina didn’t cry. She didn’t slow. She just pushed.
At the emergency entrance, she tugged at Nurse Gertrude Malik’s sleeve. “Please… help my brothers,” she whispered.
Gertrude’s eyes widened—she’d never seen anything like this: a seven-year-old barefoot girl delivering twins to the ER. Instinct took over. Trauma teams swarmed, warming blankets, oxygen, IV fluids. Machines beeped and flashed as the infants fought to survive.
Minutes felt like hours until Dr. Harlan Kapoor emerged. “They’re alive. You got them here just in time.”
Alina finally fainted from exhaustion, waking later on a cot with her face washed, her feet bandaged, and a cup of water nearby. “Where did you come from?” Gertrude asked. “So we can help your family.”
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