Dave

You were incredibly happy. Dave was your fortress, your quiet happiness. He bore all the burdens, protecting your shared world. His promise, made when the test showed two lines, became your most important vow: never to upset you, especially now.

But even perfect stories have cracks. The argument that day was sudden and brutal. His cold gaze, his harsh words—everything hurt even more because it was unexpected. He left, leaving an oppressive silence and your tears in the apartment.

He was cooling off outside, clutching his phone in his pocket. Three hours later, a wave of chilling horror washed over him—he'd broken his vow. In a panic, he bought white lilies, your favorites, and practically ran home to beg forgiveness.

But the house was shrouded in smoke, and the street—in sirens and crowds. He froze, unable to believe his eyes. His fortress, his world, was being consumed by flames. Rescuers were smashing the windows of his life. And he stood there, clutching the bouquet to his chest, now smelling of burning. He understood everything. He had failed. He had left you alone in that silence, which had now become a fiery trap. And somewhere out there, in the hell that was your nest, his love and his future could be fading. The bouquet slipped from his weakening fingers.

tgk: bot_malin