Adalind’s P.O.V

The phone buzzed in my hand, making me glance down at it. A lazy smile tugged at my lips as I saw a notification from the Herhelp app. I was about to click on it when a sound erupted from the kitchen, a sharp, booming crack that made my heart leap into my throat. It was like a gunshot in the stillness of my house.

I swung my legs over the couch, my body reacting much faster than my mind. As I stumbled to my feet, a thick, acrid plume of smoke billowed from the kitchen doorway, obscuring everything in my line of vision. The heat was immediate, a searing wave that washed over me.

Cold fear clawed its way up my throat. My kitchen was on fire! Oh god! My mind raced as it desperately scrambled for solutions. As a doctor, I’d seen life hang by a threat, fought against the clock to save countless souls. But this was different. This was personal. My apartment, my sanctuary, was being consumed by flames!

My brain was telling me what smoke inhalation could do, the slow insidious damage it inflicted, but I was rooted to the damn spot until another glass shattered, spurring me out of my daze.

I ran across the smoke-filled room, using muscle memory to lead myself to the bathroom. There, I doused myself from head to toe with water and grabbed a damp towel, hoping against hope that it would be enough. And then I took the fire extinguisher from the spare room before running back to the kitchen.

The handle of the kitchen door was scorching hot, like a fiery barrier between life and death. Holding my breath, I pressed my face against the towel, and with a soundless shout, I kicked down the door.

The wave of heat and smoke that burst through the splintered wood, singed all the hairs on my skin, including my lashes. I bent over, my eyes stinging as a loud cough ripped through me.

When the coughs stopped racking my body, I stood up and almost choked on my breath when I saw the orange flames licking at the cabinets. Adrenaline kicked in and I began fumbling with the fire extinguisher but the fire kept spreading, growing even bigger and bigger until the can in my arms emptied. Fuck! I had to leave!

Crawl, not walk, to reduce smoke inhalation. Find an exit. But as I began crawling, I realized the panic in my bloodstream and the damned smoke had made me forget the layout of my own home! I had no idea where the doors were or if I was going deeper into the apartment!

Trembling, I fumbled for my phone. I needed to call my boyfriend! He was a firefighter and would know how to handle this. I just hoped it wouldn’t be too late before he arrived. His name appeared on the screen, but no matter how long the call rang, Nick didn’t pick up. I tried again and again, each failed attempt sending a fresh wave of despair over me. Nick was a goddam firefighter, he shouldn’t have refused to save me by ignoring my calls.

I was alone. The heat was unbearable. My skin felt like it was on fire. I crawled towards what I hoped was the living room, praying that it might offer a little respite. But the smoke was closing in. My vision blurred, my throat burned and my body ached with every breath. The fire seemed to have spread to the bedrooms and windows, making it impossible for me to touch anything without getting scorched.

As I tried to move again, something crashed over me and I let out a loud scream, screaming even more when I realized I was trapped beneath the heavy wooden bookshelf I'd gotten from an antique store last year. Books that were starting to catch fire toppled all over me, making me scream as I flailed my arms and jerked around to get them off me. But I couldn’t move. “HELP!”

At least my phone was still tightly held in my grip. Tears stung my burning eyes and I dialed Nick’s number one last time without any hope.

“Hello, who is this?” A voice suddenly echoed through the speaker and I jerked from where I lay on the floor, breathing in the horrible smoke and sweating like I was being roasted. But it was a female voice that sounded very familiar.

“This is Adalind, Nick’s girlfriend, please give him the phone! Please.” I wheezed, tears running down my cheeks.

“Hmmph, just because Nick chose to celebrate my birthday with me, you think you can just be dramatic and call him every second, blowing up his damn phone? Be productive and spend your time doing something better than being clingy to your boyfriend. Leave Nick alone and give him some breathing space! I knew I didn’t stress him out like this when we were still together.”

The voice said and I let out a nerve-wracking cough as I sputtered on my next breath. That had to be Juliette! She was Nick’s ex-girlfriend and I had no idea he was with her!

Not like that mattered anyway at this moment.

“Please, Juliette,” I begged, my voice weak and hoarse from the coughing and smoke. The living room where I was lying was now alive with roaring orange flames lapping against the couches and furniture. My hair was matted to my skin with thick sweat and no matter how much I pushed, I was stuck beneath the wooden bookcase. “My house is on fire and I’m trapped inside. Please tell Nick to come quickly. This is a matter of life and death and I need his help! Please.”

“Is that Adalind?” Nick’s voice floated through the phone and my eyes grew wetter with tears of joy. I think he must have realized Juliette was taking his calls. But what I didn’t expect was for my boyfriend to say, “Ugh please, you don’t have to engage Adalind in a discussion. My girlfriend could be such an attention seeker and a drama queen. The fire is a lie, trust me.”

My mouth fell open in shock as the dial tone followed three clicking noises that told me the call had been disconnected. Unbelieving what was happening, I pushed up on my elbow, grunting as I tried to dial his number again, but this time, an electronic voice replied.

Nick blocked me.

Black dots lined my vision and the last thing I saw was the ball of fire hurling right at me before everything went dark.

Adalind’s P.O.V

‘Water!’ The pump is broken! There’s someone down here! I’ll go get myself! Not safe, the wood on the body is burning!

My eyes flickered open, a heavy weight pressing on my senses. For a terrifying moment, the world was painted in a horrifying mix of orange and black, the taste of smoke thick in my mouth. My heart pounded like it wanted to burst out of my ribcage. I was certain I was still there, engulfed in the flames, stuck and trapped. Help!

But then, a breath, clean and fresh, filled my lungs. My lungs seized in surprise, gasping for the unfamiliar sensations, and just like that, the world slowly sharpened into focus.

I was lying on something hard, moving. The ceiling above me was a blur of gray, but the air was fresh and cold.

Panic seized me again. Where was I? What had happened? I tried to sit up, but a strong arm pinned me down. My head throbbed like a maddening drum and I struggled against the restraint, fear fueling my desperate attempts to escape being stuck and trapped again.

“Easy,” A smooth, soothing voice rumbled above me and my brain emptied out almost immediately, slowly realizing I was being carried.

A shaft of light appeared ahead, growing larger with each passing moment. We were exiting the building. Relief washed over me in waves but it was quickly replaced by confusion. Who was carrying me? Whilst clad in a wet sweatshirt, the back was firm and strong, just like Nick. It had to be Nick! He came to save me after all.

“Nick,” I croaked, praying my voice rose above the thumps of my boyfriend’s boots.

No answer.

Desperation clawed at my throat. I needed to see Nick’s face, to confirm my hope. But no matter how hard I squirmed, he ignored me. With a jolt, we burst into the open and the following noise was overwhelming. I soon felt myself being lowered onto something cold and hard. A stretcher, I realized.

I blinked open my eyes with effort, the world blurring at the edges. A figure loomed over me, a faceless silhouette against the sun and glaring lights. I opened my mouth to speak, but a cold, wet, mask was pressed over it, filling my lungs with a fresh wave of oxygen. The world was fading away, slipping into darkness.

A final thought formed in my mind before oblivion claimed me again. The one who helped me wasn’t my boyfriend. It wasn’t Nick.

“Adalind!”

I sucked in a sharp breath, my eyes blinking as I tried to focus on the blurry figures hovering over me. A wave of nausea hit me as I became aware of my surroundings. The cream walls, the beeping monitors, and yes, the smell of antiseptic that I still haven’t gotten used to. It was the familiar environment of the hospital where I worked.

“Adalind! Can you hear me? A familiar voice cut through the fog in my head and I turned my head to the side of my bed. It was Monroe, my department director. His face hovered over me, lines of worry etched on his forehead.

“How did I get here?” I asked in a hoarse voice, knowing I should have died in that fire.

Monroe’s expression softened and the worry left. “You were rescued from the fire in your apartment by the hero that brought you here. Maybe you’ll meet him in the future.” His voice was gentle, but his eyes held a strange intensity which was weird for Monroe. “You’re going to be okay, Ada. you’re safe now.”

I nodded, swallowing saliva to wet my throat and then I cut my gaze to the end of the bed, grimacing when I saw my ankle propped up with bandages covering it. A flurry of activity soon surrounded me as nurses and my doctor colleagues came to check on me. The questions thrown at me made it easy for me to ignore the image of flames consuming my home. The images that plagued me.

“How did it happen? One of my colleagues, Medical assistant Stella asked.

My throat tightened. “Negligence.” I managed to say in a barely audible voice. “I think I left the stove on.”

Their eyes widened in sympathy. “You’re lucky to be alive.” another colleague said. “Be careful next time, Dr. Schade.”

The room fell silent until someone cleared their throat. “Why is Nick not here yet?”

The question hit me like a physical blow, a fucking freight train. Nick. my boyfriend. Who was a fucking firefighter? He didn’t give a rat’s ass about me. A lump formed in my throat. I couldn’t look at anyone. I couldn’t speak.

It felt like my tongue was tied. The hero who had saved me was a stranger, and the man I had trusted had failed me.

Adalind’s P.O.V

Other than a few charred windows and wallpaper, it was shocking for me to find out that my entire apartment hadn’t burned to cinders. Rather I must have been so stressed and freaked out that I imagined the fire licking across my curtains in the sitting room. Also, my antique bookshelf wasn’t broken or burnt like I’d thought. Hell, almost all the other parts of my house were untouched, left for the bad smoke smell and soot on the wallpaper that made everything black.

Realizing, I mustn’t have been trapped under the bookshelf was also wild to me. So I just laid on the ground after I tripped and broke my ankle, my brain going amok and telling me I was trapped under the bookshelf.

The fire only affected my kitchen and a renovation wasn’t something I could afford yet so after being discharged from the hospital four days after the incident, I was eating from disposable paper plates whilst struggling to move around my apartment and then back to work with a healing broken ankle.

It wasn’t only my ankle that broke too, I had to repair my phone screen and still, Nick hadn’t reached out to me to know what happened, if I was alive or dead.

BANG! BANG!

I jerked up from my bed at the noise at my front door, feeling my heart thump right out of my chest. “I’m coming!” I yelled, annoyed at the incessant pounding of a fist against wood. Today was my day off and I wasn’t expecting any visitors so who could it be?

Transferring my body weight to my good foot, I hopped down the hall and into the living room, until I got to the door and clicked it open.

Oh. my mouth went dry at the sight of the figure propped against my doorway, arms akimbo with his ankles crossed in such a lazy position that sent a flicker of irritation through me.

Nick.

From the shock on his face, he must have expected a hug or something, but I simply left the door open and returned to a couch in the living room.

A couple of seconds later, I heard the sound of the door closing and then his footsteps as he entered the room.

“Fuck, I’m starving baby!” He went straight to the kitchen without stopping by me and my fist clenched in anger.

“Holy shit! Did a demon from hell visit your kitchen?” His voice bounced through the walls and soon his head popped through the space dividing the kitchen from the living room. “What the hell happened in here?”

I ignored him and he snickered. “Right, I told you to stop entering that kitchen. You might be one of the best junior doctors in the hospital but your cooking skills would put your dear mother to shame and you know she was the best.”

As usual, Nick continued to run his big mouth, mocking my cooking, and all the while, he didn’t notice the slight bruises on my face and the glaring bandages on my swollen ankle. He didn’t even bother to apologize to me for how he had dumped me for his ex-girlfriend’s birthday and the heartbreaking things he’d said about me to her.

I gritted my teeth in a silent simmering angle and bit back my retort. He was such a waste of breath sometimes. As I tried to pick myself up from the couch, still giving him the silent treatment, Nick materialized in front of me with his brows twisted in a huge frown.

“Get out of my way,” I said simply, managing to sound neutral and bland.

But he planted his feet even wider and his hands stopped fumbling with the buttons of his shirt as he’d been undressing. “Are you mad at me because of Juliette?”

His words somehow felt like a hot iron rod piercing my heart because the way he intoned it was as if I was just being dramatic. Suddenly, tears stung my eyes and I fiercely blinked them back.

“Fuck off, Nick.” I snapped and used all my body weight to push him out of the way before angrily hopping off to my bedroom.

I could feel his laser stare burning into me as I walked off but he didn’t stop me once. As the first few tears began to drop from my eyes, I heard my front door slam shut and without checking, I knew he’d stormed off.

My cheeks grew even wetter as more tears escaped my lids. This wasn’t the first time Nick and I would have an argument or quarrel. Hell, I’d say in our relationships, we had more fights than good times, yet every single time we exchanged heated words, I was always the one to apologize first and beg for his forgiveness.

Balling my fingers into tight fists, I wiped off the tears, damned near scratching my own face. That time was over. I would never beg him first or accept him back unless he reached out first and showed he was sorry truly and genuinely.