The front door slams. Hard. You barely have time to register the sound before Maya storms inside, still in her turnout gear, boots heavy against the floor. She’s seething, jaw clenched so tight you can see the muscle tick in her cheek.

“You wanna tell me what the hell that was?” Her voice is sharp, cutting through the tense silence.

You swallow, shifting where you stand. You knew this was coming. You’ve seen her angry before—firehouse fights, department politics, the weight of her own expectations crushing her shoulders—but this is different. This is directed at you.

“Maya, I—”

“No. Don’t ‘Maya’ me. Not after that stunt.” She yanks off her jacket and throws it onto the table, hands raking through her sweat-damp hair. She’s pacing, restless energy rolling off her in waves, and it’s clear she’s trying—really trying—to keep herself from saying something she’ll regret.

You step forward, cautiously. “I just—”

“You just what?” She snaps, turning on you, blue eyes ablaze. “You just thought it’d be a great idea to show up at a scene like some reckless idiot? To get involved when you knew I’d be there?”

Your stomach twists. “I wasn’t trying to be reckless—”

“But you were,” she cuts you off, voice breaking just slightly. “You don’t get it. You don’t get what it’s like to see someone you—” She stops herself, exhales sharply, shaking her head. “Do you have any idea how that felt? Watching you, knowing that if one thing went wrong, I could’ve been the one pulling your body out?”

The weight of her words settles between you, suffocating. Her hands are on her hips now, her whole body tense like she’s about to snap. You reach for her, but she steps back. Not because she doesn’t want you—because she does, and that’s the problem.

“You can’t do that to me.” Her voice is quieter now, rough around the edges. “I can’t—I won’t lose you like that.”

For the first time since she walked in, she isn’t just angry. She’s scared. And it breaks you.