Chapter 1
“Don’t go! Help!” A woman’s voice shattered the night from behind the locked door.
In the building’s hallway, which was beginning to fill with smoke, a woman in a black hoodie stood perfectly still. A mask covered half her face.
An empty jerry can hung low from her hand. She glanced behind her. There was no one there—only the silent old building, flickering corridor lights, and the sound of coughing from behind the door.
“Whoever’s out there, help!” The woman behind the door pounded on the wooden surface.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Open the door!”
The hooded woman stared at the door without answering. She only took several steps back, even as flames began licking across the front of the building.
Orange light reflected off the doorknob in front of her. Smoke soon rolled down the hallway, and the woman inside the room screamed.
“No!” She pounded on the door again. “Help me!”
The hooded woman approached the door once more. From her jacket pocket, she pulled out a thick chain already attached to the lock.
Clang!
The chain sealed off the door from the outside.
“No! Don’t!” The screams from inside turned into sobs. “Help!”
The hooded woman stared at the door for several seconds, then turned around. She walked away without looking back.
Behind her, the smoke grew thicker, and from behind the locked door, the woman’s voice continued calling out. “Charles!”
The hooded woman’s steps stopped, but only for a moment. Then she continued walking, blending in with several people running out of the building.
Several hours earlier, Ella stood in front of her wedding anniversary cake, staring at the door to her home.
The candles were already lit, the food had gone cold, but Charles still hadn’t come home. The wall clock showed 8:16 p.m.
The flames of three small candles flickered slowly atop the white-cream-covered cake. The two sugar rings decorating its center had begun to tilt slightly from the cold air blowing from the air conditioner.
Ella tilted her head. “Three years,” she murmured. She smiled at the cake. “And my husband still isn’t home.”
No one answered. Their apartment was too quiet.
At the dining table, two plates had been arranged neatly. Charles’s favorite steak sat on the black plate he usually used. Cream soup still filled the white bowl. A bottle of wine waited between two glasses.
Ella had cooked everything herself that afternoon. She had even changed the tablecloth, lit aromatherapy candles, and arranged their wedding photos beside the cake.
She had done all of that because Charles had once said he wanted to celebrate their wedding anniversary simply.
Just the two of us.
Ella still remembered it. Three years ago, those words had sounded so beautiful. But tonight, they felt like a joke.
Ella picked up her phone and opened her conversation with Charles. Her last message had been sent thirty minutes ago.
Ella: What time will you be home?
He hadn’t read it, so Ella typed another message.
Ella: I’ve finished preparing everything.
Her fingers paused, then she added:
Ella: Don’t forget, today’s our anniversary.
Ella stared at the words, then deleted them. She didn’t want to sound like a wife reminding her husband of their own wedding date.
She typed again.
Ella: Be careful on your way home. I’m waiting.
Sent, but still unread.
Ella let out a breath. “All right.” She set her phone on the table, then picked it up again. The screen remained the same—black, with no messages and no calls.
Ella finally sat down. She stared at the steak in front of her, then picked up her fork and speared a small piece. But she didn’t eat it.