I felt something under my feet as I moved forward. It rolled away with the slightest pressure and bumped into something ahead.
I stepped closer to see what it had hit—and that's when I discovered something far more shocking.
It wasn't an object at all.
It was a hand.
A human hand, pale and motionless, sticking out from beneath a wooden shelf.
My breath hitched. A cold shiver crawled up my spine, and my knees nearly buckled under the weight of the sight.
Is she Mrs. Wittman?
The question kept circling in my mind. Every instinct urged me to run, but my heart refused to leave her there.
I decided to lift the shelf and rescue her. But it was easier said than done.
The shelf was unbearably hot and far too heavy, turning the simple act into an impossible challenge. Yet I didn't give up. Victory waits for those who refuse to surrender.
In the end, I accomplished the impossible.
Beneath the shelf, Mrs. Wittman lay motionless—but alive. Her breathing was irregular and shallow. I shook her gently, but she didn't respond.
It was nearly impossible for both of us to escape if she didn't regain consciousness. Time was slipping away—every second falling like sand through a desperate palm.
I decided to give her CPR; it was the only option left in that moment. I pressed down on her chest, my right hand placed over my left.
Then, suddenly, a miracle.
She gasped back to life, coughing continuously, though she still seemed dizzy and disoriented.
"Mrs. Wittman, are you okay?" I asked, my voice tight with concern.
She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision.
"Mr. Anderson! Is it you?" she said, shocked.
"Yes, it's me, but there's no time for this. We need to move," I urged.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Anderson. I'm so sorry," she whispered, weeping like a child.
"What are you sorry for?" I asked, confused.
She kept repeating the same words without pause. I assumed she was traumatized and speaking without awareness.
I helped her stand and wrapped the blanket around her. We started toward the entrance. She continued apologizing the entire way. God knows what she had gone through.
Inside the shed, a wooden ladder lay on the ground, half burned, as if someone had tried to climb out—or escape—before the fire reached it. But that wasn't the real problem.
The collapsed supporting beam—still burning—was blocking the entrance. The fire was wild enough to make escape nearly impossible.
Through the smoke, I could see Bella and Leo standing outside.
Seeing them gave me strength. I wasn't ready to give up.
A container of water sat beside us. An idea struck me. I splashed all the water onto Mrs. Wittman. She was soaked from head to toe but kept murmuring those same words.
I took the wet blanket from her shoulders and threw it over the burning beam. The fire on that portion died down for a moment.
Using every ounce of strength left in my body, I pushed her out first, making sure she landed safely outside. Then I forced my own way out of the smoke-filled shed.
The moment I stepped out, Bella and Leo hugged me tightly. For the first time, I could breathe air that didn't choke my throat.
By then, a crowd had gathered around the shed, whispering among themselves.
"Who do you think you are? A hero?" Bella whimpered, her tears trembling at the edge.
"This was the only option," I said, gently patting her head.
Just then, we heard Mrs. Wittman's voice. She leaned on her husband's shoulder, not coughing at all — which was the strange part.
She was shivering from being drenched, yet something about her seemed oddly unreal. She behaved as if she was afraid of someone, not the fire.
"Leo, there's another blanket on the sofa. Go get it," Bella ordered
"Wait, Leo—I'll go," I said, sprinting toward our home.
I rushed straight to the sofa and began searching frantically. Suddenly, I noticed faint rays of sparkling light coming from somewhere inside the house.
I wanted to check the source, but considering the urgency, I pushed the thought aside. I grabbed the blanket and ran back to the shed.
When I arrived, I sensed uneasiness in the crowd. As I moved closer, I saw that Mrs. Wittman had fainted, and Mr. Wittman was calling for an ambulance.
I made my way to Bella and Leo and stood beside them. They curled into me, shivering—whether from cold or terror, I couldn't tell.
Within five minutes, the ambulance arrived. Four men stepped out of it. They opened the back gate and laid Mrs. Wittman on the stretcher—pulled out from that same gate.
One of them approached us after settling Mrs. Wittman. He was drenched in sweat—whether from exhaustion or from the strain of keeping his composure, I couldn't tell again.
"Sir, I have a favor to ask," the man said in a low voice.
"Yes?" I asked.
"Well… the nurse who was supposed to assist her has met with an accident."
"So, what do you want us to do?" I asked, my voice firm.
"Sir, please don't be angry. We just need a volunteer," he said, his voice trembling.
"Stop scaring him," Bella said sharply. "I will volunteer."
"You will?" I asked, shocked.
"I will," she repeated firmly. "Any problem?"
"Umm… not at all. I'll take Leo home," I replied.
She smiled after hearing this, then kissed both our foreheads—Leo's and mine. After that, she walked toward the ambulance.
Two men stood at the edge of the ambulance to escort her highness inside. That sight bothered me more than I expected.
"Daddy, I'm sleepy," Leo murmured, climbing into my arms.
"We'll get home and into bed in a while, baby," I said, brushing his hair.
Soon, everyone settled inside the ambulance. Bella waved at us. Then they were gone—the ambulance, the men, the crowd. Only Leo and I remained standing there.
Because something wasn't sitting right with me. She had looked perfectly fine before I left to get that blanket.
But when I returned, she was lying unconscious. Her face was pale. And as far as I remembered, her behaviour had been strange—fishy, unreal.
She kept apologising to me for no reason. Or maybe for a reason I didn't know yet. I was trying to piece everything together in the right sequence when Leo interrupted me.
"Daddy, everyone's gone. Why are we still here?" he asked, half asleep.
"Nothing," I replied, and headed toward our house. A thought struck me—the strange rays of light. I went inside cautiously, carefully. As Leo was with me too.
But this time, the light wasn't there. I decided to put Leo to bed first. I went to our room, laid him down, and covered him with the blanket.
After that, I stepped out to search again for the source of that light. I checked everywhere but couldn't find it.
At this moment of time, I was so exhausted that I thought might be hallucinating when I saw that. Still, I wanted to give it one last try, but exhaustion weighed me down.
My head was dizzy; joints were locked as if not ready move. I wanted to sleep beside Leo after a perfect bath.
Yet I pushed myself for that final attempt. And what I discovered was far more shocking than what I had been looking for.