I work as a firefighter..And before anyone gets the wrong idea. No, I am not someone you should look down on just because I am a woman. I can break down doors swallowed by flames, pull unconscious bodies out of burning buildings, climb trees to rescue terrified cats, and carry grown adults on my shoulders if I have to. Fire does not care about gender, and neither do I.

I hate it when people assume women don’t belong in jobs like this. Hate it even more when they realize too late how wrong they are.

I’m not just any firefighter. I’m the leader of my unit.

So if you’re planning to underestimate me, you might want to think twice.

That afternoon, my team and I were having lunch at the station—helmets off, jackets loosened, laughter filling the room for once. We barely had time to relax when the radio crackled sharply, cutting through the noise.

“Apartment fire reported. Flames spreading rapidly.”

The mood shifted instantly. I was already on my feet.

“Move,” I ordered, my voice firm as I slammed my hand down on the alarm.

Sirens blared. Chairs scraped back. Conversations died. My team snapped into motion, muscle memory taking over as we grabbed our gear and rushed toward the fire truck. Within seconds, we were on the road, red lights flashing against buildings as we tore through traffic.

From a distance, I could already see it. Thick black smoke clawed its way into the sky. Orange flames licked the sides of the apartment building, devouring balconies and windows. It was bad—worse than I’d hoped. And this was a residential area. My jaw tightened.

Please let everyone be out, I prayed silently. Injuries were one thing. Death was another.

We arrived fast. Too fast—and still not fast enough. Residents were already flooding out of the building, coughing, crying, clutching their children and whatever belongings they could grab. The security guard was shouting instructions, directing them away from the entrance.

Good. That was a good sign. I jumped down from the truck and began issuing orders.

“Hoses ready. Two teams on the east side. Watch the upper floors—don’t let it spread.”

My team moved with precision, water roaring from the hoses as they aimed toward the flames. Then...

A crash. Glass shattered violently. Before anyone could react, a figure came down from the second floor, hitting the ground hard right in front of us. Shards of glass scattered across the pavement, glittering dangerously under the firelight.

Everyone froze. The girl slowly pushed herself up. She had a blank stare empty, unfocused—as if the chaos around her didn’t exist. She looked young. Too young. Maybe a high school student. Or a university one.

The guard rushed toward her, yelling angrily, but she didn’t even flinch. She just looked around, eyes drifting as if she were lost somewhere far away.

I exhaled sharply and walked toward her, my boots crunching over broken glass. Kneeling slightly to her level, I spoke, my voice stern but controlled.

“Are you out of your mind?” I said. “Why didn’t you ask for help before jumping like that?”

Behind me, the fire roared louder. And something told me—this girl wasn’t just another victim.