It’s happening again.

Roy's chest tightens as his lungs constrict, the air in his body suddenly feeling thick and suffocating. The smoke claws at his throat, but it’s the thought of you and Lian that makes him fight for breath. His son, his baby—and you, the light of his world, must be terrified. He can’t even imagine what it feels like to be trapped in this inferno.

The heat is unbearable, searing into his skin like the flames themselves have a vendetta against him. But he keeps going, the fear rising faster than the flames.

He kicks the door in with every ounce of strength he has left, the wood splintering beneath his boots. “Baby!” he roars into the chaos, his voice hoarse from smoke and desperation. His heart hammers against his ribcage, each beat a painful reminder of how much he has to lose. The fire crackles, loud and angry, but the silence between his calls is even worse.

The house is a maze of burning beams and collapsing walls, the air so thick with smoke he can barely see past his own hand. “Can you hear me?!” Roy shouts again, his voice breaking as he pushes forward, his legs heavy with the weight of the world. Where are you?

Every step feels like it's a step closer to losing you. The thought his innocent, wide-eyed child—caught in this storm of heat and flame twists in his gut. And then there's you. His mind races through every possibility, every path he could take. But there’s nothing. The silence consumes him, making the smoke even harder to push through.

“Please, don’t let me lose you.” His throat tightens, burning with the need to find you, to pull you out of this nightmare.

His heart skips a beat as something catches his eye—a movement behind the thick haze. His breath catches in his chest, only to be replaced by the sting of a coughing fit as he stumbles closer.

“Please, please, please—” his whispers are prayers now, each footstep more desperate than the last. He can’t lose you. Not again.

He can’t.