WARNING: This story contains themes of obsession, betrayal, emotional turmoil, self-destructive behavior/suicide, and fire-related imagery. It also explores intense emotions surrounding love, revenge, and loss. Reader discretion is advised.

His marble-white skin glittered as if bathed in moonlight, and as much as I hate to admit it, he was more beautiful than ever—like a devil rising from the deepest pit of hell, emerging from a volcano, ready to unleash chaos and heartbreak upon the universe.

My devil.

His coal-dark eyes blazed, searing an unerasable imprint into my heart. They sparked like the embers around us, red-hot flames flickering white in his pupils, the same fire that surrounded us—both literally and figuratively.

I watched the ring of fire closing in, golden flames inching toward me, greedy to lick my skin and scorch my bones.

By my rough estimation, I had two minutes left.

Embrace the pain, a voice whispered in my mind, cold as a winter wind, sending shivers through me despite the inferno. The pain and sorrow are part of you now. Accept your fate.

And so I did. I welcomed the furious spirits of revenge, loathing, and torment into my soul, my heart pounding against my ribs.

I dug my nails into his wrists so hard that drops of crimson glistened like rubies in the fire.

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“I hate you,” I whispered through gritted teeth. His ghostly face was illuminated by the flames, his expression impassive.

One more minute.

I felt nothing. Numbness. Emptiness. Void. I was dead before I had even died.

Thirty seconds left.

“Evie,” he murmured, his voice a haunting melody, warm as a spring breeze.

I pressed my forehead against his. His skin was feverish.

Memories flashed before my eyes like a film reel. Our first kiss in seventh grade beneath the stars. The steakhouse date where he swore he’d love me forever. Our high school prom. Our first fight. The way we always found our way back to each other. His hand in mine as I cried after falling down the stairs and breaking a bone.

And then—him, kissing my best friend, Itzayana. Their limbs tangled, gestures tender and intimate, like we had never been before.

I had watched from his window.

I saw every single moment of his betrayal. Every lie. Every vow tossed away like it had never mattered.

Like I had never mattered.

I was doing this because I loved him too much. I couldn’t bear to see him live his life with her. I couldn’t watch their story unfold while I lingered on the sidelines, a ghost in his past.

In death, we would be together forever. Just the two of us. No backstabbing best friends. No broken promises.

I wasn’t even angry at him anymore. It was her that I resented.

She turned every whispered secret, every mumbled vulnerability into ammunition and used them against me.

The fire was a breath away now. His eyes were closed.

Three… Two… One…

All because I loved him too much.

And the flames swallowed us whole.