CHAPTER TWENTY- ONE

~Riya~

Almost two years had passed since I first walked through the doors of Dorian Steele’s restaurant, Classy Dinnings.

Time had changed me.

The girl who once stumbled between waiting tables and washing dishes was gone. I had become a professional, calm, precise, and confident in the kitchen. Dorian had promoted me to chef months ago, and somehow, I’d earned his trust. Leanna and I ran the kitchen with care, keeping the staff in order and the customers satisfied.

Although we weren't the only chefs, Dorian had multiple chefs for different cuisines.

The week had come to an end, and as usual, it was time for restocking: foodstuffs, spices, grains, vegetables, everything that kept the kitchen alive. That afternoon, Dorian called me into his office.

His tone was as cold as ever. “You’ll oversee the inventory this week, Riya. Make sure the list is complete before morning.”

I nodded, clasping my hands in front of me. “Yes, sir.”

He looked up briefly from his desk. “Don’t disappoint me.”

“I won’t,” I promised softly.

Leaving his office, I went straight to find Leanna. “I’ll be in the storeroom,” I told her. “I need to check everything that’s missing before the restock truck arrives.”

“Alright,” she said. “Want me to come help?”

I smiled faintly. “No, it’s fine. I won’t be long.”

The storeroom was quiet when I entered, dimly lit and dusty. As soon as I stepped inside, the door suddenly slammed behind me with a loud bang. I spun around, startled.

“What the…?”

I tried the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. Locked.

“Seriously?” I muttered, frowning. “I’ll deal with that later.”

It wasn’t the first time the old storeroom door had jammed. Ignoring it, I grabbed my clipboard and started down the aisles. Shelf by shelf, I took notes: sugar, flour, salt, cooking oil. Everything had its place, and I moved carefully, counting, marking, organizing.

Minutes turned into half an hour. My feet ached, and my hand cramped from writing.

Finally, I sighed and leaned against a wooden crate. “Just five minutes,” I whispered, closing my eyes.

That’s when I heard the noise.

Loud footsteps, people shouting. Pots and pans falling to the ground. Chaos.

My eyes snapped open. “What’s going on?”

I hurried to the door and tried the handle again, but it still wouldn’t open. I banged on it. “Hello? Is someone out there?”

No response. The noise outside only grew louder, mingling with the chaos.

I frowned and went back to my notes, trying to steady my nerves. But then a new smell reached me, acrid and terrifying. It was smoke.

My heart dropped.

“No…”

I turned toward the small glass window above the shelves. Black smoke was curling past it, thick and heavy. I pressed closer, squinting, and I was shocked.

Through the haze, I saw it: a wall of flame eating through one corner of the restaurant.

“Oh, Goddess.”

I rushed back to the door and began to pound on it with my fists. “Help! Somebody help! Riya’s in here!”

No answer. Only the distant roar of fire and shattering glass.

The smoke began to seep through the cracks around the door, filling the room with a bitter heat that clawed at my lungs. I coughed violently, stumbling backward.

“Please!” I screamed, banging harder. “Somebody! I’m trapped in here!”

Still nothing.

The air grew hotter, thicker. My eyes watered, and every breath burned. I turned to the small window again, coughing. Maybe someone outside could see me.

I pushed it open and stuck my arm out, waving frantically. “Help! Please, I’m in here!”

The world beyond was chaos, people running, shouting, trying to put out the flames. But I was too far up, too hidden behind smoke and walls. No one looked up.

Tears stung my eyes. I turned back toward the door, my hands trembling. “Please open,” I whispered, pulling at the handle until my palms hurt. “Please…”

It didn’t move.

Desperate, I dragged a few boxes across the floor and stacked them beneath the window. I climbed up and leaned out, coughing so hard it made my chest ache.

“Leanna!” I screamed. “Leanna, help!”

My voice cracked. No one answered. The smoke was thicker now, swirling around me. My vision blurred, the air turning to fire in my throat.

“Father…” I whispered, tears spilling down my cheeks. “Please… don’t let me die like this.”

The fire reached the storeroom door with a violent hiss. The wood crackled, glowing orange. I stumbled back, coughing, choking, crying all at once. The heat was unbearable now. I was sweating profusely.

“Help…” My voice was barely a whisper.

The flames licked the floorboards. The smoke grew heavier, black and choking. My knees gave way, and I fell against the wall, gasping.

Then, through the roaring of the fire, I heard a voice, faint but real.

“Riya!”

My eyes widened. That voice…

“Riya! Are you in there? Can you hear me?”

“Dorian?” I managed to croak. My throat was raw. “Help… I’m here!”

“Hold on!” he shouted. “I’m coming to get you!”

The next few seconds blurred. The door burst open with a crash, and fire and smoke poured into the room. I tried to lift my arm, but my strength was gone. My vision swam, the world spinning in shades of gray and orange.

And then, suddenly, he was there.

“Hey… hey,” Dorian’s voice broke through the chaos. I felt his hands on me, strong and urgent. He pulled me away from the flames and into his arms.

I wanted to speak, to say something, but the smoke burned too much. My lungs felt like they were filled with sand.

He pressed a mask over my face, there was one on his as well. Cool air flooded my chest, but only barely.

“Riya, stay with me!” he shouted. “Please don’t do this.”

I wanted to answer, but my eyes were closing. I felt weightless, as though I were drifting.

Dorian lifted me into his arms. I could hear him coughing, feel the tremor of his breath against my hair as he carried me through the inferno. The crackle of fire surrounded us, a monster of heat and sound.

The air outside hit me like a wave of cold water. I gasped weakly as he set me down.

“Get the medics! She’s not breathing properly!” he screamed.

Hands lifted me. Someone placed an oxygen mask over my face. The world tilted. Sirens wailed.

I caught a glimpse of Dorian through the haze, his clothes burned and torn, his face streaked with soot. His chest heaved as he gasped for air, yet his eyes… his eyes were on me.

The medics laid him on a stretcher beside mine.

“Her pulse is weak,” one said.

“What about him?” another asked.

“He’s conscious, burns on his legs and arms.”

Their voices blurred together. My head felt heavy. My body trembled.

“What about… Leanna…” I tried to say, but my words came out broken, lost in the noise.

The ambulance doors slammed shut. Someone’s hand held mine

, firm and warm.

“It’s okay,” a voice murmured. “You’re safe now.”

I felt a sharp prick in my arm, a syringe.

And then everything went dark.