Maisie grabbed Nick's sleeve so hard her knuckles went white.

"Nick… she's acting it up so well. I'm actually scared," she said, urgency in her voice. "Let's go. Your mom's dishes will get cold. It's the holidays. We shouldn't keep your parents waiting."

Hearing that, Nick's last flicker of hesitation vanished. He shot me one cold look, then turned and wrapped his arm around Maisie as they walked away.

They hadn't gone more than twenty meters when a plume of flame leapt half a meter from the car's bonnet. The whole vehicle began to crackle and roar, engulfed in fierce, hungry fire.

A wall of heat hammered at my skin through the glass; the panic of facing death swelled up and swallowed me.

Instinct drove me to one last, violent burst of strength. "Help! Somebody help! Fire!" I screamed, then hurled my phone at the window with everything I had.

The screen shattered on impact. The jagged glass sliced my palm; blood spilled warm and bright, but I barely felt it. My scream finally stopped Nick in his tracks.

He spun around. When the true horror of the blazing car and the flames engulfing its frame hit him, he froze.

Maisie, however, let out a scream even louder than mine. "Katie! Are you setting off fireworks in there? They're so pretty but so dangerous! I know your car's supposedly fireproof, but you can't play with fire just to get Nick's attention!"

"Fireworks?" Nick's rational mind, muddled by Maisie's absurd explanation, wavered again. He thought, 'Of course, someone like Katie would do anything to get what she wants.'

"Katie, you lunatic!" he barked at the flaming car.

I pounded with all I had. At last, a crack split the window. Fresh air rushed in. I leaned toward the fissure and gulped it into my burning lungs.

Maisie moved with wicked speed to her car, yanked a roll of wide clear tape from her trunk, and ran back to my window.

"Katie, why would you smash the window? That's so dangerous!" she feigned concern, tearing off strips of tape. In several brisk motions, she sealed the crack so tightly you couldn't push a needle through it. She pressed the tape down with the flat of her palm, checking for any leaks.

"This is your car and Nick's. How could you be so selfish and smash it like that?" she scolded.

The oxygen I'd just drawn hit my throat and stopped; my vision dimmed in waves. Nick, furious and shamed, lunged forward.

"Have you had enough?" he snarled, snatching the tape from Maisie. His eyes were hard. He layered tape over tape, sealing the crack more tightly than she had.

Looking at his face—familiar but alien—I felt my limbs go slack. My breathing thinned to near nothing.

Scenes I couldn't control flickered through my mind.

In college, he'd been penniless and sick from irregular meals; I cooked him nutritious meals without fail, day after day, patching his body back together.

After graduation, I stood by his side through startups, pulling every favor and contact I had to get him investors, networking until my throat ached. I drank and smiled at social events so he could focus on his work; once, I drank myself into a bleeding stomach for his sake.

And now… now he was the one closing me off, layer by suffocating layer.

Just as my consciousness began to blur, a middle-aged man on a motorcycle slowed and stopped when he saw the car ablaze.

"Hey! What are you doing? That car's on fire. Call the police! Help her!" he shouted.

Hope flickered in my chest. I smashed the glass again and again.

Nick's expression shifted, but Maisie was quicker. She blurted out in a rush, "Mister, don't misunderstand! My friend is just cooking in there!

"She loves excitement—keeps talking about a car kitchen. She insisted on showing off for us. But the fire got out of hand.

"Don't worry, this car is fireproof. She's perfectly safe inside!"

"Cooking?" The man stared, baffled.

Nick immediately chimed in, "Yes, my girlfriend just likes to mess around. Sorry for the misunderstanding. We'll take her home now."

The motorcyclist looked from me to them, suspicion clouding his eyes. In the end, he shook his head, muttered, "Young people these days really know how to play," and revved his engine, driving away.

Inside, the oxygen thinned to nothing. A piercing system alarm blared: [Danger! Carbon monoxide levels critical. Oxygen below 8%. Evacuate immediately! Evacuate immediately!]

The flames surged higher, and the window glass groaned and warped under the heat.

Then I remembered—my brother, always cautious, had hidden an emergency dry-powder fire extinguisher beneath the passenger seat.

With the last of my strength, I dragged it out. But when I tried to pull the safety pin, it wouldn't budge.

Looking closer, horror gripped me—the pin had been glued down tight with industrial adhesive.

Worse still, the extinguisher was empty.

Maisie spotted it and burst out laughing. "Ah, Katie! I told Nick I'd never used a fire extinguisher before and wanted to try. He's the sweetest. He taught me how to use it himself. We must've emptied it by accident."

She tilted her head, feigning innocence. "But since you drive so steadily, I figured you'd never need it. So I just put it back without replenishing it!"

Behind her, Nick didn't look the least bit guilty. Instead, he fondly ruffled her hair. "You and your mischief."

Then his gaze snapped to me, his face dark with irritation. "Katie, enough! What's next in this performance of yours? You even brought the fire extinguisher out to keep up with your act? If you keep this up, you'll really kill yourself!"

I didn't answer. I only fixed my eyes on him.

And then, under their stunned gazes, I heaved the extinguisher high above my head.

"Katie! What are you doing? You're insane!" For the first time, fear cracked Nick's voice.

I ignored him and smashed the extinguisher down with all my might.

Bang!

The glass shattered into pieces.

Saved!

I didn't care that shards ripped into my skin; clawing and scrambling, I tried to drag myself through the opening.

But a large hand shot in from outside, seizing my hair and yanking me back with brutal force.

It was Nick.

In the instant the window broke, he had wrenched the door open from outside.

"Bitch! I knew you were faking it! Still strong enough to smash my car?" he roared, shoving my near-lifeless body back into the driver's seat.

He grabbed the roll of tape and bound me savagely to the chair.

I thrashed weakly, powerless against his strength.

Then, horror of horrors—he tore off a strip of tape and sealed it tight across my mouth and nose.

"Mmmph! Mmmph—"

Agonizing suffocation stormed my brain.

Watching me convulse, Nick bent close, his breath scorching my ear. "Katie, you're too spoiled. Today, I'll teach you a real lesson."

The car's interior burned to its limit. I could hear the metal groaning. It was close to detonation.

My consciousness blurred, and darkness closed in.

And just before I lost it completely, a furious roar tore through the air nearby, "Get your hands off Katie, you son-of-a-bitch!"