The smell of smoke lingered long after the fire trucks had come and gone.The old warehouse was nothing but blackened steel and ashes, its twisted frame groaning under the weight of the morning rain.Rosemary sat on the curb, wrapped in a gray blanket. Her hair was damp, her hands trembling.She kept staring at the ambulance doors — at the man lying inside with an oxygen mask over his face.Adrian.His pulse was steady, but weak. His body bruised, his arm bandaged, his voice silent.“Ma’am, please rest,” a paramedic said gently, handing her a cup of water.But Rosemary only shook her head. “I’m fine,” she whispered. “Just… let me stay here.”Markus approached, his arm in a sling, face covered in soot. “They’re taking him to St. Clarisse Hospital. I’ll follow the ambulance.”“I’m coming,” Rosemary said, rising to her feet.“You should rest,” Markus warned. “You inhaled too much smoke—”“I said I’m coming,” she snapped, her voice breaking at the edges. Then, softer: “I can’t leave him a
Last Updated : 2025-10-22 Read more