Ivana looked down and saw that the candle she had just lit somehow fell onto the tablecloth. In an instant, flames leaped up, quickly spreading from the table to the couch.

Ernest instinctively pulled Ivana to the side, trying to get her out of harm's way.

Sydney tried to grab Ernest, but missed him and had to sprint over herself, accidentally knocking over a full bottle of whiskey.

The fire grew rapidly and no one in the room was brave enough to approach. Sydney clung to Ernest, trembling, "Ernest, I'm scared."

Ernest let go of Ivana and softly comforted Sydney in his arms.

Ivana's face paled. She tried to move, but the two women behind her were pushing and shouting, occasionally letting out piercing screams, "Where's the fire extinguisher?"

The flames had grown taller and Ivana found herself being pushed closer and closer to the origin of the fire. Someone, panicked, grabbed a curtain and began waving it at the fire.

Ivana tried to retreat, but she was pushed forward by the crowd toward the flames.

"Ah!" screams filled the air.

The curtains caught fire too. The burning fabric whipped through the air, setting tables and sofas on fire.

Panicked, the person holding the curtain shouted and threw the burning cloth straight toward Ivana.

The red flames reminded her of her parents, triggering an overwhelming fear that froze her in place, making her unable to react normally.

The curtain landed on her head and Ivana instantly became engulfed in flames. "Ah! Ah!" The room erupted in screams, some for Ivana and others for various people.

Ignoring the searing pain, Ivana trembled, using her shaking hands to rip the burning curtain off. "I can survive this! I can survive," Ivana kept repeating to herself, trying to calm her mind.

Her hands burned horribly, worse than when she was locked in the cold storage before.

"Sprinklers! Fire extinguishers!" Ernest yelled angrily. "Call 911! Call 911!"

Finally managing to tear the curtain away, what Ivana saw was utter chaos. She was now surrounded by flames.

The sprinkler system had not responded. The alarm didn't go off and the fire extinguishers were nowhere to be found.

Through the thick, suffocating smoke, Ivana saw Ernest carrying Sydney as they rushed toward the exit. Everyone else surged toward the door, leaving Ivana to be completely surrounded by the fire.

She gritted her teeth, pushing forward through the terror, hoping to escape. But the flames were too strong. She had no choice but to carefully dodge the flickering flames.

Her arms, legs and feet were all burnt, but she didn't have time to care. The smoke choked her, tears streaming from her eyes, her breathing becoming labored. She stumbled, searching for a bathroom, hoping to soak her clothes with water to cover her mouth and nose.

Everywhere she turned was fire, smoke and heat and she couldn't tell which direction to go in.

"I won't die. I will survive. Why? Just seven more days. Just seven more days and I can go to France. My visa has already been approved. Mom, Dad, are you coming to pick me up?" Her consciousness began to fade, the black, choking smoke enveloping her as she saw what seemed to be her parents' faces.

Her parents had died in a fire when she was younger, too. It was the same, the fire and the smoke everywhere.

Ivana remembered her dad, holding her and her mom as they ran out of the kitchen. Then, her dad disappeared. Later, her mom had hugged her tightly, placing her into a firefighter's arms. After that, her mom also disappeared.

She sat surrounded by flames, hoping her parents would come out to hold her, stroke her head and say, "Ivana, don't be afraid."

But they never came back. She could no longer distinguish between their ashes and the ruins. For a long time, she had a great psychological trauma toward open flames.

Even every night, she dreamed of the fire that took her parents. She wandered in the fire, lost, unable to find her dad, her mom, or an exit.

When she woke up, she was already in the hospital. After Sydney returning to the country, somehow Ivana practically lived in the hospital.

The nurse saw her wake up, "Miss Millian, you're awake."

Ivana asked, "Is it serious? Will I need to stay in the hospital a few more days?"

"It's not serious. Just some superficial burns, they might leave scars, but after observation, you can leave soon," A male voice spoke up and Ivana turned her head. It was a young firefighter.

"Your boyfriend is really good to you. He's been waiting for you to wake up." said the nurse.

Ivana wanted to explain, but before she could say anything, the firefighter said again, "You're awake. I'll leave now. Here's my phone number. Call me if you need anything." He hesitated for a moment.

"Winston Applegate," Ivana stared at the paper, murmuring.

The doctor came to check on her. There were no major issues and she could leave in a few days.

[You can't compete with me.] Sydney sent a message, followed by a series of photos. They were of Ernest comforting Sydney, with a few pictures of Sydney applying an ice pack to her slightly red skin.

"Okay, he's yours." Ivana calmly replied with few words. The other side continued typing for a long time but did not reply.

The plans to go abroad were nearly finished. Ivana opened her phone's social media platforms and gallery. She deleted all the love-related posts with Ernest, then removed every contact, even his email.

She heard that Ernest had booked an entire floor for half a month just because Sydney fell during the fire and scraped her knees and hands.

On the seventh day after being discharged, Ivana completed the discharge procedures and Ernest was hurriedly carrying breakfast upstairs. She glanced at his back coldly, then turned around and left without saying a word.

Ernest felt a sudden, strong beat in his heart, as though he had forgotten something.

He looked at the breakfast in his hand and touched his pockets, everything was there. Perhaps he was just exhausted from taking care of Sydney these days.

Ivana arrived home and double-checked her materials.

She went back to the dessert shop, where the freezer door had been replaced with a new one and a new pastry chef was working, showcasing new desserts at the counter.

She retrieved her recipe notebook and packed a few of her own kitchen tools. As she was about to leave, she ran into Ernest, who had returned to get the chocolate cake.

Ernest saw her and, momentarily guilty, appeared much gentler than before. He asked, "Are you taking it back to work on new products?"

Ivana muttered, "Mhm."

He said again, "Don't forget to let Sydney try it."

Ivana didn't respond. She's a person who never promises what she can't do.

Ernest also knew this. Seeing that she said nothing, his face darkened, "That day was an accident. There's no need to keep being angry."

"Mhm." Ivana looked at the approaching cab on her phone, not wanting to waste more breath on him.

"When you've made up your mind, you can come home anytime." With that, he grabbed the cake and left.

Home? Whose home? Is it yours and Sydney's home? How laughable.

The cab slowly stopped in front of the dessert shop, "Hello, is this your ordered cab?"

"Yes, the last four digits are 8210." Ivana withdrew her gaze and placed her luggage into the car's trunk.

The driver said, "Got it. Destination, San Diego Airport."

"Yes, please hurry." Ivana took one last look at the shop, a place she had once built with Ernest, full of hope.

When she was 19, she loved him from afar, too afraid to disturb, she only watched him quietly. At the age of 22, she stayed by his side wholeheartedly. The dream of her youth came true and her heart was full of joy. At 27, it all felt like a fleeting dream, vanishing without a trace.

She closed the car door, her gaze and heart as still as dead water, devoid of any ripples.