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Julian leaned back in his leather chair, the weight of his mother's voice grating against him like nails on a chalkboard. He could almost feel the phantom pressure of her words, the insistent demand echoing in his ears long after the call ended. "Julian, I'm proud of what you've built for this family, but it's time you get a wife." He'd heard it a thousand times, each repetition a dull ache in his chest. The city skyline, usually a source of pride and ambition, now felt like a mocking backdrop to his frustration.
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The expensive Persian rug beneath his feet felt strangely insignificant beneath the weight of his mother's expectations. "Mother, I can't. My life is about the business, not love." The words felt hollow even to him. He knew she wouldn't understand. She'd never understood his need for solitude, his aversion to the suffocating expectations of family life. The faint scent of his expensive cologne, usually a comfort, did nothing to ease the tension coiling in his gut.
"But I want a grandchild!" her voice, sharp and insistent, played back in his mind. The image of the empty house, a vast echoing space mirroring the emptiness in his own life, haunted him. "This house will be empty without one. You promised me you would marry." The promise, a youthful pledge made under pressure, now felt like a shackle. He rubbed his tired eyes, the faint lines etched around them a testament to sleepless nights spent strategizing, negotiating, and building his empire.
He tossed his phone onto the desk, the metallic clang a sharp counterpoint to the dull throbbing in his temples. Frustration, a familiar companion, clawed at him. He ran a hand through his hair, the strands stiff and unruly, a reflection of the chaos within. "How am I supposed to find a wife?" he muttered, the question a desperate plea lost in the cavernous silence of his penthouse. The vast panoramic window offered a breathtaking view of the city, but tonight, it only emphasized his isolation.
He needed air, a desperate escape from the gilded cage of his own success. He needed to clear his head, to outrun the relentless pressure bearing down on him. Stepping out into the night, the crisp air did little to soothe the turmoil within. The city lights blurred through his windshield as he drove, each passing car a fleeting reminder of his isolation. The hum of the engine was a low thrum beneath the frantic rhythm of his racing thoughts. He was lost in thought, his mind replaying his mother's words, her expectations a lead weight in his gut.
The turn came too quickly, a blur of headlights and shadows. For a moment, he was paralyzed, his mind still wrestling with his mother's demands. Then, the screech of tires, a sickening crunch of metal, and a blinding flash of white before everything went black.
When Julian came to, disorientation washed over him like a tidal wave. The acrid smell of burning rubber and metal filled his nostrils, a sharp, choking scent that clawed at his lungs. He coughed, his throat raw and burning. His head throbbed, a dull, persistent pain that pulsed in time with the frantic pounding of his heart. He was trapped, pinned against the steering wheel, the twisted wreckage of his car a suffocating cage around him. Flames licked at the edges of the vehicle, their orange glow casting dancing shadows on the faces of the onlookers. Their blurry forms were a cacophony of shouts and screams, a chorus of fear and urgency that was somehow muted, distant, as if heard through thick glass.
Panic surged through him, cold and sharp. He felt the heat of the flames intensifying, the air growing thick and suffocating. "Help! Someone help!" he shouted, but his voice was weak, barely a whisper above the crackling roar of the fire.
Then, through the swirling smoke and chaos, he saw her—a girl, no older than twenty, rushing toward the burning wreck. Her expression was fierce, determined, a stark contrast to the fear etched on the faces of the bystanders. Her dark hair, escaping its messy bun, whipped around her face as she moved with an almost supernatural speed and purpose. "Stay still!" she yelled, her voice ringing clear and strong above the din. She didn't hesitate, didn't flinch as the flames licked at her arms, her clothes already smoldering.
With a bravery he couldn't comprehend, she yanked the door open, her movements precise and powerful. She pulled him out just as the flames roared higher, engulfing the car in a fiery inferno. Pain shot through his injured leg, a searing agony that made him gasp, but she didn't falter. She dragged him away from the inferno, the fire singeing her skin, leaving a scar that would mark her forever.
Moments later, the car exploded, a deafening roar that sent shockwaves through the crowd. Julian lay on the ground, gasping for breath, his mind racing. The girl, now on her knees beside him, struggled to keep her composure. Her face was streaked with soot, her breath coming in ragged gasps, but her eyes held a fierce determination.
"Help is coming," she said, her voice trembling but resolute.
As sirens wailed in the distance, Julian's vision blurred, but he caught a glimpse of her scarred arm, a reminder of the price she'd paid to save him. Darkness began to creep in again, but through it, he felt a flicker of something he hadn't expected: gratitude. A profound sense of obligation, a debt he knew he could never repay.
Minutes later, as paramedics arrived and rushed him away, he barely registered the chaos around him. But one thought remained etched in his mind: he had promised his mother a wife, and now, fate had thrown a stranger into his life in the most unexpected way. A stranger who had risked everything to save him.