I was walking home from another dead-end shift, my feet dragging against the concrete, my shoulders slumped from hours of meaningless labor. It was one of those nights where the cold bites at your skin, and the wind cuts right through your jacket no matter how tightly you wrap it around yourself. The streets were dimly lit, flickering streetlamps casting long shadows that made everything feel a little more sinister than it really was.I didn't have much on my mind—nothing ever seemed to matter back then. It was just another night. Another lonely walk. I was nobody, really. Just some guy who could barely scrape by, moving from one job to the next, never able to figure out what I was supposed to be doing with my life.But that night was different. That night, I heard something that snapped me out of my dull haze. A voice. A girl's voice."Help! Someone, help!" She was shouting, her voice tinged with fear and desperation.I turned my head, scanning the street. Across the road, under one of those flickering streetlights, I saw her. She was maybe a few years younger than me, but what caught my attention wasn't her—it was the group of boys surrounding her. Thugs. Older boys, bigger than the average kid, their faces twisted into sneers and grins as they closed in on someone else—a small kid, no older than twelve.I froze for a second, my feet locked in place as I watched the scene unfold. One of the boys shoved the kid down, and the others circled closer, laughing, ready to tear him apart. They didn't care about the girl's screams. They didn't care about anything.I should've walked away. I should've kept my head down, pretended I didn't see a thing. That's what I always did, after all. I wasn't brave. I wasn't a hero. I was just... me. Just Samuel, a guy nobody would even notice in a crowd. But something inside me snapped.Before I knew what I was doing, I crossed the street, my heart racing, my fists clenching. I wasn't thinking. I couldn't afford to think—because if I did, I'd probably turn and run.I threw myself into the middle of it. The boys barely had time to register what was happening before my fist connected with the closest one's face. My knuckles split open on contact, the sharp pain shooting through my hand, but I didn't care. He stumbled back, clutching his jaw, blood dripping from his mouth."Get the hell away from him!" I yelled, my voice shaking.The others looked at me, confusion turning into anger. One of them lunged at me, and for a split second, I thought I was done for. But somehow, I fought them off. Somehow, I managed to throw enough punches, land enough hits, that they decided it wasn't worth it. They scattered, leaving the girl and the kid behind.That's how I met her. Emma.She ran up to me after it was over, tears streaming down her face, her voice trembling as she thanked me over and over again. "I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't shown up," she said, her eyes wide with relief.I remember thinking how beautiful she looked, even with her hair disheveled and her face streaked with tears. The way the streetlight flickered overhead, casting soft shadows across her features—it was like a scene out of a dream. A strange, broken dream, but one I never wanted to wake up from.She introduced herself. Emma. I could barely speak—I was too busy trying to catch my breath, my heart still racing from the adrenaline. But somehow, we exchanged numbers. She insisted on it. Told me she owed me for helping her little brother, James. I shrugged it off, told her it wasn't necessary, but she wouldn't take no for an answer.I figured that was the end of it. Just a random encounter, one I'd look back on and feel a little proud of. But I didn't expect what happened next.We started texting after that, meeting up for coffee here and there. What began as small talk—just a way to pass time—grew into something else. Something deeper. We became friends. Real friends. She'd talk about her job, her dreams, her worries. I'd listen, trying to absorb every word, every detail, because somehow, hearing her made everything in my life feel less empty. She was bright, full of life, full of hope, while I was just... well, me. A guy who hadn't figured anything out.But Emma didn't care. She saw something in me. I still don't know what, but she did. And somewhere along the way, we stopped being just friends.I remember the first time I kissed her. We were sitting on a park bench, watching the sunset, talking about nothing important. But the way the light hit her face—it was like the world had stopped just for us. My heart pounded in my chest, and before I knew it, I leaned in. When our lips touched, everything else disappeared. All the noise in my head, the doubts, the fear... it all vanished. She made me feel like I mattered. Like I wasn't a nobody after all.We got married two years later. It wasn't some grand affair—just a small ceremony in the backyard of her parents' house. But it was perfect. I stood there, in front of a handful of people, staring at the woman who had somehow chosen me, and I knew... I was the luckiest man alive.I remember the way she looked that day, dressed in a simple white gown, her hair flowing down her back in soft curls. She was radiant. My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest as I said my vows, promising to love and protect her for the rest of my life. And I meant every word.Not long after, we had Tommy. Our first son. I remember holding him for the first time, feeling like my whole world had shifted. I never thought I'd be a dad, let alone a good one, but the moment I looked into that kid's eyes, I promised myself I'd protect him. I'd be the kind of father he could count on, the kind I never had.And then Katie came along, two years later. She was a handful from day one—always running, always curious, always getting into trouble. But that smile of hers could light up a room. I used to joke with Emma that she got all her stubbornness from me, but we both knew Katie was her mother's daughter through and through.Those were the best years of my life—those moments with my kids, with Emma. The little things. Saturday mornings in bed, with the kids jumping on us to wake us up. Family dinners, with Tommy telling stories about school and Katie refusing to eat her vegetables. Laughter. Love. Peace.I never wanted to lose that.I pull the front door shut behind me, the soft click barely registering in the quiet. For a second, I stand still, glancing back at the house where everything I know waits inside.My wife, Emma, leans against the porch railing, that familiar smile on her face. She waves, her blonde hair catching the sunlight in soft wisps. It's a scene I've seen a thousand times—something so regular, so safe. Just another day. I raise my hand to wave back.She blows me a kiss.I smile. "I'll be back around six!" I shout, already turning away, one foot down the first step. I hear her laugh—a sweet, distant sound that lingers in the morning air.I start walking down the street, my thoughts slipping into routine mode. The hum of cars in the distance, the faint rustle of wind brushing through the trees—everything feels like it always does. Work will be long and boring, but necessary. Same as every other day.But... something feels off. It's a subtle, creeping sensation in my gut. A heaviness I can't explain. Like a warning, but nothing I can put my finger on.I shake it off. "Just tired," I mutter to myself, forcing my feet forward. The office is just a few blocks away. I focus on the mundane things—the numbers I'll have to crunch, the emails I'll ignore—anything to drown out that uneasy feeling building inside me.But then... I stop.The air around me shifts, almost imperceptibly at first. There's a stillness. No birds. No wind. The faint hum of life in the distance—it's just... gone.I turn my head, glancing up. The sky, once blue, is shifting. Reds and oranges swirl above, like a sunset coming way too early. The colors blend together unnaturally, darkening by the second, until the entire sky is swallowed by a deep, foreboding crimson."What the hell..." I whisper, my stomach lurching.Something's wrong.I spin around, facing my house, where Emma still stands. Her hand is frozen mid-wave, but she's not smiling anymore. She's staring up at the sky, her mouth open in confusion.And then... the light.A beam, searing and blinding, shoots down from the sky, like a spear of pure energy. It crashes into my house, no sound, just a flash—an explosion of light that consumes everything."Emma!" My voice rips from my throat, panic surging through my veins. I run. My feet slam against the pavement, the world blurring around me as I sprint back toward my home.But it's too late.The air feels thick, pressing down on me as I run. My legs burn, but I push harder, ignoring the ache in my chest, the pounding in my ears. I can't think straight. My mind's a storm of thoughts—none of them make sense.I skid to a stop in front of the house. Or what's left of it.The smell of smoke hits me first, thick and choking. The front of the house is gone, obliterated. The porch—where she was just standing—is reduced to ash, a crater blown into the earth where the beam struck. The beam... I blink, my vision blurring, trying to focus. The light's fading now, but it left a glowing scar on everything it touched.I can't even see her anymore. Emma.She was right there.I stumble forward, my legs heavy like lead, each step a fight against gravity, against the brutal reality that crashes over me like a wave. Where... where is she?Where is she?I'm screaming her name, but the sound is lost in the chaos that surrounds me. The air itself feels wrong, thick with something otherworldly. It presses in from all sides, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. My chest tightens, panic clawing at the edges of my mind, but I push forward. I have to. Emma. I have to find her.I was never a hero. Never the kind of guy to jump into the fire. But for her... for my family... I'd do anything. I always told myself that, over and over, even though deep down, I was never sure I'd live up to it.I fall to my knees, my fingers digging into the charred dirt beneath me. Everything feels heavy. Everything feels broken. I can't stop the tears from falling. The tears and the vomit. My body reacts before my mind does. I vomit again, the bitter taste of bile filling my mouth, but I don't care. I don't care about anything except her. Except finding her.But as I look around, my heart sinks deeper into my chest. There's nothing left. The beam—it took everything. All that remains of the front of the house is a smoldering ruin, a pile of debris, and the faint echo of a life that used to exist."Emma," I whisper, my voice shaking, barely audible. "Emma, please... please..."There's no answer.The pain is unbearable. It feels like someone's driven a knife into my chest and twisted it, over and over. My breath comes in ragged gasps, my vision blurring with tears. I wipe at my face, trying to clear them away, but they keep coming. They won't stop.I have to move. I have to find her. I have to save her.But then I saw something at the corner of my eyes It something was finding but my head stated to spin it was Emma is there, or what's left of her. Her body, crumpled at the base of the steps, is unrecognizable. Blood... so much blood. Her face—gone.The house... the kids...My mind snaps back to them. Tommy. Katie. My kids. They're inside. They were inside when the light hit. Panic seizes me, and I stumble to my feet, my legs weak, barely able to support my weight. But I have to go in. I have to get to them.The front door is barely hanging on its hinges, the wood splintered and charred. I push through it, nearly falling as I make my way inside. The smell of smoke is thicker here, filling the air, stinging my eyes, burning my lungs. Everything is destroyed—the furniture, the walls, the ceiling—it's all been reduced to rubble. But I don't care about any of that. I care about them.As I looked up the stairs where there room was or what's left of it i heared a loud noise.