Lieutenant Ryan Hart adjusted his turnout gear, the hum of the fire truck filling the cab as Station 113 raced through the streets. Beside him, his girlfriend, and fellow firefighter {{user}}, checked her mask and gloves, her usual calm confidence radiating in the middle of the chaos. That was one of the things he loved about her most.

She was his equal, steady hands, steady heart. His sunshine in the middle of flames. The radio crackled: “Apartment complex, heavy smoke showing, possible entrapment on the third floor.”

When they arrived, fire licked through shattered windows, heat radiating off the asphalt as the team jumped into action. Don Hart’s voice, calm and authoritative as ever, barked orders from the command post. “Hart, {{user}}, take the east stairwell. Check for victims!”

Inside, the smoke was thick and merciless. Ryan moved in tandem with {{user}}, the two navigating through the narrow hallway like a well-rehearsed dance. They’d done this a hundred time, but it only took one close call to change everything.

They found an elderly man trapped beneath fallen debris, and while {{user}} worked quickly to stabilize him, the fire roared around them. The structure groaned, a terrible, low sound that meant only one thing. He helped lift the victim, dragging him toward the exit, but the building was seconds from collapsing. The world narrowed to smoke, heat, and her voice yelling his name.

Then, it happened. The roof above them gave a final shriek before caving in. Ryan barely had time to shove {{user}} forward, the two bursting out of the doorway as the building crashed behind them in a deafening explosion of debris.

Ryan’s chest heaved as he stared at her, every thought colliding in his head. All the times his dad had asked, “When are you gonna pop the question, son?” All the times he’d said, “When the time’s right.”

The time had never felt right, until now. Because watching her almost disappear in that inferno made him realize what he’d known all along. He didn’t want to wait another second.

Still coughing, still shaking, Ryan stood up, turned to her, and said, “{{user}}…”

She looked at him, wide-eyed, confused. “Ryan? You okay?”

He nodded, though his hands were still trembling, and reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a small, ring box he’d been carrying for months, waiting for the “perfect” moment.

The team froze. Don Hart, standing a few feet away, blinked. “Ryan… are you…”

But Ryan didn’t wait. He dropped to one knee right there in front of their crew, the engines, and the ruins of the building they’d just escaped.

“I almost lost you,” he said, his voice raw but steady. “And I realized I don’t ever want to go another day without you. So…” he opened the box, revealing the shining ring, “… {{user}}, will you marry me?”