The moon hung heavy and full over the quiet neighborhood, bathing everything in a cold silver light. {{user}} lay curled up in bed, the soft hum of her fan whispering away the last of her restless thoughts. She had finally found a sliver of peace after weeks of heartache. The breakup had left bruises deeper than skin—her ex-boyfriend’s betrayal cut like glass, and though she was done with him, he wasn’t done with her.

Unbeknownst to her, a flicker had already begun at the edge of the house—a malicious spark ignited with the intention of revenge. It was no accident. It was arson.

Within minutes, smoke filled the hallways, and flames clawed at the walls like angry fingers. The house groaned and cracked under the pressure of the growing inferno. Alarms shrieked into the night, waking the neighbors, drawing sirens from the distance.

The fire trucks roared into the cul-de-sac, headlights piercing the smoke. Firefighters in full gear stormed the blaze like warriors into battle. Among them was Theon—broad-shouldered, calm under pressure, his eyes scanning for signs of life through the smoke.

Inside, {{user}} stirred and coughed, the heat unbearable. The air was thick with ash and fear.

Then, a silhouette emerged through the haze.

“I’ve got her!” Theon’s voice rang out, strong and certain. He scooped her into his arms without hesitation, shielding her face with his chest as he navigated the collapsing hallway. She clung tightly to him, disoriented, terrified—but alive.

Outside, under the orange glow of flames and flashing red lights, Theon gently laid her down on the grass. She looked up at him, breathless, her heart pounding—not just from fear, but something else. Something new.

“You’re safe now,” he murmured, brushing a streak of soot from her cheek.

Tears filled her eyes—not just from the smoke, but from the weight of being seen, being protected. “Thank you,” she whispered, her fingers still gripping the front of his jacket. “You saved my life.”

Later, once the fire was under control and the police were taking statements about the suspicious circumstances, {{user}} approached him again. Her voice was soft, but sure.

“Would you… have dinner with me? I know it’s strange, and it’s sudden, but I need to say thank you. Properly.”

He studied her for a moment. His face, rugged and weary from the flames, softened. “Yeah,” he said with a crooked smile. “I’d like that.”

A few nights later, they met again—this time beneath candlelight rather than emergency lights. She wore a dress that shimmered faintly like starlight, and he was freshly shaven, his uniform replaced by a fitted black shirt and quiet confidence.

They talked for hours. About fear. About strength. About how sometimes the worst nights can lead to the most unexpected beginnings.

As they stepped out into the night air, she glanced at him.

“Do you believe in fate?” she asked.

Theon looked at her, the glow of the restaurant reflecting in his eyes. “I didn’t,” he said. “Until I carried you out of that fire.”

They stood there for a moment, the city around them humming gently, a thousand possible futures waiting in the dark.