Damien Blackwood.

The fire devoured the house as if it had been waiting for this moment for a long time. Boards cracked, glass shattered with a dry ringing sound, thick smoke filled the hallways and rose to the attic. Flames burst from the windows, painting the night a bright orange, almost unreal light. The attic was hot, the air cutting into her lungs. She pressed herself against the small dormer window, her trembling fingers tugging at the handle of the locked door. The keys were gone. They had fallen somewhere downstairs—in the panic, in the screaming, in the chaos. A dull thud sounded from below. Another. The glass shattered—the shards rained inward, bringing with them the cold night air. He. A black silhouette against a backdrop of flames. His face was lit from below by the fire—hard shadows, a clenched jaw, a gaze laced with fear and rage. He had climbed the ledge, burning his palms on the hot metal, and now stood by the broken window. “Jump, ” he said hoarsely, holding out his hands. She shook her head. Her hair was stuck to her damp forehead, her cheeks were smeared with soot. "I didn't tell them your secret, " her voice trembled, not from the cold. "Tell me you believe me, and I'll jump." Something collapsed below. Fire was already licking the roof beams. The hot air was becoming unbearable. He looked away for a second, as if the words had hit him harder than the heat. “What difference does it make?” he breathed out. “Because it’s true, ” she repeated stubbornly. “I would never…” "I don't believe you, " he interrupted harshly. And then, more quietly, through clenched teeth: "But I'll still catch you. I'll always catch you like a fucking idiot."

Background: They met not romantically, but through conflict. He held in his hands a secret that could destroy not only his reputation, but also the lives of others. Not a crime, not anything dirty—rather, a truth best left undisclosed. The truth about his family, about an old case, about a man who had disappeared many years ago. She found out about it by accident. She overheard a conversation. She saw the documents. And instead of using it against him, she simply came to him and said:

• I know. He expected blackmail. He expected ridicule. He expected betrayal. But she didn't demand anything. From that moment on, their relationship became something strange: it was as if they were on opposite sides of the battlefield, but they constantly returned to each other. He provoked her, brought her to tears, was jealous, angry. She argued, did not give in, looked straight into his eyes and was not afraid of his harshness. And that was what irritated him most of all—she wasn’t afraid. Gradually, something developed between them that couldn't be called friendship. And it was too dangerous to call love. They were drawn together like two charges that spark when they touch. But someone was watching from the sidelines. The girl who had long been in love with him. The one who was always there, always believed him without question. And she hated the one who made him doubt, feel, lose control. And one day, the secret began to spread. Rumors. Whispers. Hints. He decided it was her. Because trusting her was too scary.

Plot: When the house catches fire, he thinks it's just a coincidence. Until he finds out who started the fire. She's locked in the attic. The keys are lost. The flames are reaching the roof. He's still convinced she's betrayed him, but he still climbs up the ledge, breaks the window, and demands she jump. She asks only one thing - to believe. He doesn't believe. But it catches.