"Boom!"

Flames shot into the sky!

Above the fire, pieces of steel roof panels, wood, and shredded paper were scattered, filling the air with the acrid smell of oil and smoke. The entire playground was suddenly illuminated, as if struck by lightning.

Moments later, the shockwave from the explosion spread outward.

Garbage littered across the playground was swept up in the blast, followed by a wave of heat. Gwen, who had just stepped out of the car, instinctively raised her hand to block the heatwave but was still pushed back.

A sharp smell filled her nose, and dizziness overtook her.

What followed seemed to happen in slow motion.

She saw the flames rising in the distance, the stage engulfed in fire, and the police cars approaching with their piercing sirens.

In the midst of it all, Peter appeared in her hazy vision.

His hand reached out toward her.

"Snap!"

Peter grabbed Gwen's hand just before she lost consciousness, pulling her into his arms. Sparks from the explosion flew towards them, but Peter turned his body, shielding her from the debris.

Looking down at the unconscious Gwen, Peter gently lifted her, carrying her toward the entrance of the playground.

Once things had calmed down, the police from the NYPD finally arrived on the scene.

George Stacy leapt from his car and sprinted toward the burning playground, ignoring the danger.

"Pick up the phone! Gwen! Answer the phone!"

He muttered desperately as he glanced down at his phone, trying to call Gwen but unable to reach her.

As he arrived at the entrance, he saw Gwen's friend, Gloria.

"Gloria, have you seen Gwen?"

Relief washed over Gloria when she saw George. Before she could reply, another deafening explosion echoed from within the playground. The two of them instinctively stepped back, shielding themselves from the heat.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

"Gwen's still inside!" Gloria shouted, coughing as she struggled to catch her breath.

"Damn it!"

Hearing that his daughter was still in the inferno, George clenched his teeth and threw his phone to the ground. "Get out of here, Gloria! It's still dangerous!"

He draped his coat over Gloria's shoulders before kicking open the gate and preparing to charge in.

But then, a figure emerged through the flames.

Peter, dressed in black, walked out of the inferno, holding Gwen in his arms. Behind him, sparks flew, and water sprayed from fire hydrants.

The crackling of flames, the hissing of water, and the blaring sirens formed a chaotic symphony.

George and Gloria stood frozen, unable to believe what they were witnessing.

"Peter?!"

George stared in disbelief at Peter, who now stood before him, cradling Gwen.

"She's fine," Peter said softly, glancing down at Gwen's peaceful face. "She just fainted."

Still stunned, George took Gwen from Peter's arms, struggling to find words.

Without another word, Peter turned and walked away.

As emergency vehicles gathered and sirens blared, George held his daughter, momentarily abandoning his thoughts of Peter. His priority now was Gwen's safety.

---

Gwen awoke with a start, gasping for breath.

She felt as though she were entangled in seaweed, suffocating. In her panic, she struggled to break free, but then she heard a strange noise.

A sharp, rapid sound filled her ears.

A shark swam towards her through the seaweed, its jaws wide open. The stench of decay overwhelmed her senses.

In her terror, she jolted awake, only to find Peter leaning over her, gently pressing her shoulder.

"Don't move," Peter said calmly, adjusting the gauze on her head. "You'll loosen the bandage."

Her right ear was wrapped in gauze, and Peter was helping secure it.

Gwen blinked, recognizing Peter's familiar scent.

"I'm not dreaming?"

"No."

"This isn't a dream?"

"I don't think so."

Gwen sat up slightly, propping herself against the pillow. She glanced around the room—white sheets, the sharp odor of disinfectant. She was in the hospital.

Feeling conflicted, Gwen didn't know what to say. So she blurted out, "I'm sorry."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Why are you apologizing?"

"This whole mess is my fault," she said, guilt weighing heavily on her. "Frank came to the school because of me. If it weren't for me, all those students wouldn't have been hurt. You wouldn't have been involved either."

"If it's complicated, don't dwell on it," Peter replied, turning to look out the window. "You should focus on resting."

"How long was I out?"

"A day."

"And Frank?"

Peter sat down beside her bed. "He's dead. The impact was too much for him."

"I..." Gwen took a deep breath, wincing as pain flared in her chest—likely from the car's steering wheel during the crash.

"I doubt that impact alone could have killed him. It was you, wasn't it, Peter?" She looked at him, her eyes searching for answers.

Peter shook his head. "No, it wasn't me. Gloria can confirm—you drove straight in like a maniac."

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Do you really think I'm going to believe that?"

"Yes," Peter said firmly. "You were lucky."

Gwen sighed. "If I believed that, I'd be the dumbest woman in history. I know my limits, Peter. I'm just a lucky girl."

"You're more than just lucky, Gwen."

Peter stood, ready to leave. "I've got things to take care of. Rest up and don't overthink."

Gwen watched as Peter walked out of the room.

After a moment, a smile crept across her face. Feeling the warmth of the sun outside, she lay back down.

"It's a beautiful day," she whispered.

---