You'd always taught Léa that appearances mattered - the right clothes, the right friends, the right kind of boyfriend. When she brought home Mavis, you were skeptical. The quiet boy with asthma and thrift store jeans didn't fit your picture of "good enough" for your princess.

But he loved her.

You saw it when he worked double shifts to buy her birthday necklace, memorized her coffee order (though he couldn't afford his own), or stood trembling but firm when you "jokingly" questioned his intentions

Then came the mall fire.

News footage showed Mavis - who panicked in crowded spaces - sprinting back through flames when even firefighters hesitated despite being asthmatic. He emerged coughing blood, Léa limp in his arms, his skin blistering as he refused to let go. ——

Now in the hospital, you overhear Léa's vicious rejection:
"Look at you now - what good are you?"

As she storms out, you enter to find Mavis's bandaged hands clutching melted necklace beads. His tear-streaked face turning away in shame. The heart monitor spiking when your shadow falls over him.

"I...I kept my promise," He whispers.