He Left Me to Burn, Now I Own His Dream

A sudden fire broke out in the underground archives.

My boyfriend of three years, Alfred, kicked away the fire extinguisher I was using to prop up a heavy steel bookshelf—all just to protect Vivian, an intern who had only sprained her ankle.

"It’s just a stupid metal can. Don't let it trip Vivian."

He carried Vivian in his arms, rushing out of the raging fire without once looking back.

He left me pinned under a shelf weighing hundreds of pounds, suffocating in the thick, black smoke.

I dragged myself out of the fire and spent three days and nights fighting for my life in the ICU.