Chapter 2: The Night Everything Burned

As the company prepped for the new product launch, Evan got busier and started traveling more. I could clearly feel that he’d changed.

He stopped coming home for dinner, started missing our morning routines. The distance between us grew, inch by inch, until I barely recognized the man I loved.

Before, no matter where he went on business, if I said I wanted to come, he’d always take me along. Now, he’d coax me, "Be good, there’s too much going on this time, I won’t have time to hang out with you. Next time, okay?"

His excuses sounded reasonable, but I could feel the truth underneath. I wasn’t his priority anymore.

Before, he’d always reply to my messages almost instantly, never more than half a day late. Now, he’d forget until nighttime to reply to something I sent in the morning. "Sorry, babe, spent the day showing clients around the factory."

I’d stare at my phone, rereading his messages, hoping for something more. It never came.

He didn’t even bother to video call anymore. This time, when he was away, I deliberately didn’t text him for two days—and he really didn’t reach out either. That had never happened before.

The silence was deafening. I lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering if he even missed me at all.

We rarely spent time apart, but whenever we did, we always FaceTimed every night. My anxiety kept growing.

I started checking my phone obsessively, jumping every time it buzzed. But the calls never came.

I bought a plane ticket and flew overnight to the city where he was on business. When I landed, I called him—I only knew his hotel, not the room number. No answer. I had to take a cab to the hotel.

The cab ride felt endless. My heart raced the whole way, my mind running wild with worst-case scenarios.

As we neared the hotel, I saw smoke in the distance.

The sky was tinged orange, the acrid smell of burning filling the air. My stomach dropped.

"Whoa, looks like there’s a fire up ahead," the driver said loudly.

He craned his neck for a better look, unconcerned. I felt like I was about to pass out.

A sense of dread grew in my chest.

My hands shook. I could barely breathe.

"Please hurry!" I urged him.

My voice was high, desperate. The driver sped up, weaving through traffic.

When we got close, I saw fire trucks, ambulances, police tape, and a crowd gathered outside the hotel.

The scene was chaos—sirens blaring, people shouting, the hotel’s facade blackened by smoke. My heart hammered in my chest.

"Looks like your hotel’s on fire!" the driver exclaimed.

He turned to look at me, eyes wide. I barely heard him.

I got out and squeezed through the crowd. Frantically, I kept calling Evan, but no one answered.

I pushed past strangers, shouting his name. No one responded. My phone felt like a dead weight in my hand. Oh God, what if he’s—

My heart was in my throat—I was so worried I could barely breathe. My hand shook as I gripped my phone. Evan, please, nothing can happen to you.

I whispered his name like a prayer, over and over. I’d never felt so helpless.

Two product managers and Dana had traveled with him. I called each of them—no answer.

Every unanswered call made the panic worse. I was sure something terrible had happened.

The wait was agonizing.

Minutes felt like hours. I paced the sidewalk, watching the paramedics rush back and forth.

I stood in the crowd, watching firefighters carry people out and load them into ambulances. Just as I was about to lose hope, through my tear-blurred vision, I finally saw a familiar figure.

He looked disheveled, his suit jacket streaked with soot, but he was alive. Relief crashed over me in waves. My knees almost gave out.

It was Evan! He was okay!

I nearly collapsed with relief. Tears streamed down my face as I stumbled toward him.

I cried with relief, wiping away my tears as I pushed through the crowd toward him. But as I got closer, I froze.

The sight stopped me cold. He wasn’t alone.

He was carrying someone in his arms—a woman, unconscious, wearing a hotel bathrobe. Her long hair was a tangled mess, her face buried against his chest, only her sharp chin visible. I could smell the smoke on them, see the way his arms trembled as he held her.

Even in the chaos, I recognized her instantly. My heart dropped into my stomach.

But that was enough for me to recognize her: Dana.

The world seemed to tilt. I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t even sort out my feelings. I just wanted to reach Evan as fast as possible. After everything, after all the times he’d let me down, I finally stretched out my arm, just about to touch the hem of his coat—when he walked straight past me.

He didn’t even see me. I stood there, arm outstretched, invisible.

"Doctor, please help her!" he shouted, panic etched on his face as he rushed Dana to the medics.

His voice was hoarse, frantic. All his attention was on her—there was no room left for me.

My hand froze in midair. He didn’t see me.

I let my arm drop, numb. It was like I didn’t exist.

Even though we were only a few feet apart.

The distance felt like a chasm. I could’ve screamed his name, and he still wouldn’t have heard me.

The man who used to find me in a crowd in one second, whose eyes were always on me—walked right past, not even glancing my way. Right now, he only cared about the woman in his arms. That was it. That was all that mattered.

It was the clearest sign yet. Whatever we’d had was gone.

When a man’s heart changes, his partner always knows first. I could feel it clearly: I was no longer the only one in Evan’s heart.

That realization was a knife in my chest. I’d suspected, but now I knew.

At the hospital, I saw Evan slumped in the hallway, looking exhausted and haggard.

He looked up when I approached, his eyes bloodshot. I almost didn’t recognize him.

"Evan." Only when I walked up and called his name did he seem to notice me.

He blinked, as if seeing me for the first time.

"Why are you here?" There was no surprise in his eyes.

His tone was flat, almost cold. The distance between us had never felt so wide.

I bit my lip. "Do you like Dana?"

I forced the words out, my voice barely above a whisper. I needed to hear him say it.

For the first time, Evan looked impatient. "Dana’s still unconscious—can’t you let go of these petty emotional things for now?"

He snapped at me, his frustration obvious. I flinched, stung by his words. Fine. If that’s how it is.

"Do you know? She was rescued by the firefighters first, but she insisted on finding me. Only after she saw me did she finally pass out. As she collapsed, she smiled and said to me, ‘I’m just glad you’re okay.’"

He ran a hand through his hair, his voice breaking. I could see how much he cared for her. It was written all over his face, and I hated how obvious it was.

Evan slid down the wall, voice choked with grief.

He buried his face in his hands. I’d never seen him so vulnerable.

It was touching—if only this man wasn’t my boyfriend. Ha. Isn’t that just perfect?

I said nothing, just waited with him in silence. Two hours later, the doctor told us Dana was awake.

The wait was endless. When the doctor finally appeared, Evan jumped up, relief flooding his face.

Evan rushed in. He knelt by her bed, gripping her hand, his voice gentle and soft. "It’s all over."

He spoke to her like she was the most precious thing in the world. I stood in the doorway, feeling like an intruder.

Dana’s smile was fragile. "Yeah, it’s good—we’re both safe."

Her voice was barely audible, but the gratitude in her eyes was unmistakable.

Tears slid down her cheeks. Evan gently wiped them away, his touch so careful, as if she were a treasure.

I couldn’t watch anymore. The intimacy between them was unbearable.

I couldn’t take it. I stepped forward. "She’s awake now—can we go home?"

My voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet room.

Evan turned to me, his face cold. "Come outside."

He didn’t bother to hide his irritation. I followed him into the hallway, my heart pounding.

In the hallway, he took a deep breath. "Given Dana’s condition, how can I leave? She only got hurt because of work—it’s on me to look after her."

He tried to sound reasonable, but I heard the accusation in his voice. I was the problem, not him.

I shot back, "Does every employee with a work injury need the boss to stay by their bedside? Can’t her family look after her?"

I crossed my arms, daring him to answer.

"I can’t be that cold. I have to stay with her."

His voice was final. The conversation was over.

With that, Evan turned and went back into the room—and shut the door without looking back.

He didn’t look back. I watched the door close behind him, feeling more alone than ever.

I went home alone.

The cab ride back was a blur. I stared out the window, tears streaming down my face. For the first time, I wondered if I’d ever really known Evan at all.

In the company restroom, I overheard two coworkers gossiping.

Their voices echoed off the tile, oblivious to my presence. Great, just what I needed.

"Manager Brooks said when Director Murphy was in the hospital, Evan took care of her like you wouldn’t believe—even fed her chicken soup himself."

Their words stung. I bit my lip, trying not to cry.

Manager Brooks had gone on the business trip with them—a good product manager, but a bit of a gossip. As soon as she got back, the whole company knew how attentive Evan had been to Dana.

The rumor mill was in full swing. I could practically hear the stories growing with each retelling.

"What about Princess Harper? Wasn’t she Evan’s favorite?"

I winced at the nickname. It used to make me feel special. Now, it just felt childish.

"What else? The favorite lost her spot."

Their laughter echoed in the empty restroom. I clenched my fists, willing myself not to cry.

"No way. I’ve seen how much Evan dotes on Harper—like raising a daughter. They grew up together, the classic CEO and little princess couple. I loved them as a pair."

I heard the nostalgia in her voice. Maybe she missed the old days, too.

"Haven’t you heard? The childhood friend can never beat the so-called one true love."

I didn’t know what that meant, but the bitterness in her tone was clear.

"It’s a shame. I liked Princess Harper—so pretty and delicate, like a Barbie doll. The ultimate sweet girl!"

I wanted to scream that I wasn’t a doll, that I was a real person with real feelings.

"I prefer Director Murphy. She’s a top graduate, talented and capable—a real powerhouse. I heard she was going to work at Blackridge, but Evan poached her with a high salary."

Their admiration for Dana was obvious. I felt invisible, erased.

"I heard she applied to Blackridge but wasn’t hired because she didn’t have any standout work."

I clung to that detail, hoping it meant something. Maybe I wasn’t the only one struggling.

"No way. Director Murphy is really impressive…"

Their voices faded as they left the restroom. I waited until I was sure they were gone before slipping out of the stall.

I pressed my forehead against the cool tile, trying to steady my breathing. I’d never felt so alone.

I’d taken a few days off, and today was a spur-of-the-moment visit. Now, I just wanted to sneak away quietly.

I gathered my things, avoiding eye contact with everyone I passed. I felt like a ghost, haunting my own life. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, making my skin crawl.

I couldn’t stand everyone’s stares—curious, sympathetic, mocking. Either way, it made my skin crawl.

Everywhere I went, I felt the weight of their eyes. I just wanted to disappear.