Devouring Love in the Raging Fire

But they never came back. She could no longer distinguish between their ashes and the ruins. For a long time, she had a great psychological trauma toward open flames.

Even every night, she dreamed of the fire that took her parents. She wandered in the fire, lost, unable to find her dad, her mom, or an exit.

When she woke up, she was already in the hospital. After Sydney returning to the country, somehow Ivana practically lived in the hospital.

The nurse saw her wake up, "Miss Millian, you're awake."

Ivana asked, "Is it serious? Will I need to stay in the hospital a few more days?"

"It's not serious. Just some superficial burns, they might leave scars, but after observation, you can leave soon," A male voice spoke up and Ivana turned her head. It was a young firefighter.

"Your boyfriend is really good to you. He's been waiting for you to wake up." said the nurse.

Ivana wanted to explain, but before she could say anything, the firefighter said again, "You're awake. I'll leave now. Here's my phone number. Call me if you need anything." He hesitated for a moment.

"Winston Applegate," Ivana stared at the paper, murmuring.

The doctor came to check on her. There were no major issues and she could leave in a few days.

[You can't compete with me.] Sydney sent a message, followed by a series of photos. They were of Ernest comforting Sydney, with a few pictures of Sydney applying an ice pack to her slightly red skin.

"Okay, he's yours." Ivana calmly replied with few words. The other side continued typing for a long time but did not reply.

The plans to go abroad were nearly finished. Ivana opened her phone's social media platforms and gallery. She deleted all the love-related posts with Ernest, then removed every contact, even his email.

She heard that Ernest had booked an entire floor for half a month just because Sydney fell during the fire and scraped her knees and hands.

On the seventh day after being discharged, Ivana completed the discharge procedures and Ernest was hurriedly carrying breakfast upstairs. She glanced at his back coldly, then turned around and left without saying a word.

Ernest felt a sudden, strong beat in his heart, as though he had forgotten something.

He looked at the breakfast in his hand and touched his pockets, everything was there. Perhaps he was just exhausted from taking care of Sydney these days.

Ivana arrived home and double-checked her materials.

She went back to the dessert shop, where the freezer door had been replaced with a new one and a new pastry chef was working, showcasing new desserts at the counter.

She retrieved her recipe notebook and packed a few of her own kitchen tools. As she was about to leave, she ran into Ernest, who had returned to get the chocolate cake.

Ernest saw her and, momentarily guilty, appeared much gentler than before. He asked, "Are you taking it back to work on new products?"

Ivana muttered, "Mhm."

He said again, "Don't forget to let Sydney try it."

Ivana didn't respond. She's a person who never promises what she can't do.

Ernest also knew this. Seeing that she said nothing, his face darkened, "That day was an accident. There's no need to keep being angry."

"Mhm." Ivana looked at the approaching cab on her phone, not wanting to waste more breath on him.

"When you've made up your mind, you can come home anytime." With that, he grabbed the cake and left.

Home? Whose home? Is it yours and Sydney's home? How laughable.

The cab slowly stopped in front of the dessert shop, "Hello, is this your ordered cab?"

"Yes, the last four digits are 8210." Ivana withdrew her gaze and placed her luggage into the car's trunk.

The driver said, "Got it. Destination, San Diego Airport."

"Yes, please hurry." Ivana took one last look at the shop, a place she had once built with Ernest, full of hope.

When she was 19, she loved him from afar, too afraid to disturb, she only watched him quietly. At the age of 22, she stayed by his side wholeheartedly. The dream of her youth came true and her heart was full of joy. At 27, it all felt like a fleeting dream, vanishing without a trace.

She closed the car door, her gaze and heart as still as dead water, devoid of any ripples.