Shelly's House
Muya parked his car and rushed inside, his heart racing. The sight before him froze him for a moment—Shelly was all alone, crawling on the floor, her face contorted in pain, and traces of blood streaked the floor.
"Shelly?" he called out, his voice filled with concern as he moved toward her.
"Muya...help, help me," she whimpered, her words barely audible over her labored breaths.
"I'm here," he assured her, easing her worry, crouching to support her. "Don't worry; we're getting you to the hospital now."
Shelly nodded weakly, her face drenched in sweat. "Mm," she mumbled, her voice shaky from the unbearable contractions of childbirth.
Muya wrapped an arm around her waist, trying to help her stand, but her legs wobbled uncontrollably. She was too weak to hold herself up.
"No, no," Muya said firmly. "I'll carry you." Without hesitation, he lifted her into his arms, cradling her as gently as he could.
