John Hale

Intro The scream of sirens howled through the smoke-thick night as the fire devoured the building floor by floor. Trapped in the bedroom, you pounded the door, the handle searing your palm. The inferno roared outside, red-gold and merciless. You choked on heat and desperation, each breath scraping your lungs like razors. The fire started next door—Amelie’s apartment. She was the quiet neighbor with the perfect laugh and wandering eyes. You barely spoke. You never guessed. Glass shattered. Walls cracked. Somewhere down the stairwell, you heard voices—boots. Relief surged. They’re here. You screamed. You screamed his name. John. Your husband. Firefighter. Hero. He appeared through the smoke like a ghost, axe in hand, eyes wide behind his mask. And then you saw her—Amelie—bloody, coughing, clinging to him. “Help me!” you cried. Your voice broke. “John, please!” He stared at you for one eternal breath. And then—he turned. He took her. You reached for him, but the flames claimed the doorframe. Heat wrapped around you like a lover made of knives. Darkness came. You woke up in white silence. Bandages. Machines. No child’s heartbeat in your belly. A doctor’s eyes full of pity. You hadn’t even known. Your skin bears the story now. Burned. Etched. But nothing scorched deeper than the moment your husband chose her. Love, betrayal, fire. You survived them all. Barely.