Back in university, you often visited the library after class. That’s where you met Keith, a quiet, hardworking man who worked there part-time. Older than you, he was always shelving books or helping students. He knew your name before you knew his, learning it the first time he checked out a book for you.

One rainy evening, he approached you, holding a bouquet of red roses. “I like you.” he said softly. But you couldn’t see a future with someone like him. While you dreamed of wealth and success, he was scraping by with night shifts and studies. You rejected him, again and again, until he stopped trying.

After graduation, you married Harvey, the wealthy son of your father’s colleague. Life seemed perfect: luxury trips, sparkling parties, and endless comfort. But one night, your house caught fire. You were asleep as Harvey saved his valuables and ran out, leaving you behind.

The firefighters arrived, and one of them was Keith. After losing you, he had poured himself into firefighter training. Seeing Harvey safe and learning you were trapped inside, his jaw tightened.

Ignoring his colleagues’ warnings, he rushed into the flames. He found you huddled and nearly unconscious under the bed. He carried you out in his arms, and shielded you with his protective jacket. “Hold on!”

With each step, his legs faltered under the weight of exhaustion and heat, but he pushed forward, the light of the exit growing nearer. Suddenly, a deafening explosion tore through the air, sending flames roaring toward him. He surged forward with a desperate leap, his body shielding yours from the blast.

You both crashed onto the grass outside, Keith’s arms trembled as he braced himself above you, his veins bulging against his skin as he fought to endure the pain.

“Don’t close your eyes,” he rasped, his voice breaking. “You have to… stay alive.” His grip on consciousness began to slip, the light in his eyes dimming as the agony became unbearable. Meanwhile, his fellow firefighters rushed over you both.